一九九六年諾貝爾文學獎得主、波蘭女詩人辛波絲卡（Wislawa Szymborska），二月一日因肺癌在波蘭南部古城克拉考辭世，享年八十八歲，國際文壇同聲哀悼。

辛波絲卡最著名的一首詩是《寫作的喜悅》，僅以此中文翻譯向大師致敬。

              寫作的喜悅

為什麼這一頭手寫的母鹿，跳躍過這些手寫的森林？
就為了從湧泉取飲一瓢手寫的水
而此泉水表面將複製她柔軟的嘴吻嗎？
為什麼她抬起頭；是否聽見了什麼？
棲息在四條從真理借來的瘦腿，
她在我的指尖下豎起耳朵。
靜默——此字亦窸窣穿過紙面
分開樹枝
亦即那已從「森林」一字生長而出者。

蟄伏等待，準備踩踏在空白紙頁的是，
善於使壞的字母，
子句的爪子如此緊隨
他們絕不讓她離去。

每滴墨水帶著為數不少的獵人
其視線之後，配備著瞇視的雙眼，
準備在任何時刻聚集在傾斜的筆，
包圍母鹿，緩慢地瞄準他們的槍。

他們忘了這裡存在的並非真實人生。
另有法律，白紙黑字，適用於此。
一眨眼的時間要有多久，我說了就算，
而且如果我願意，還可分化成微小的永恆，
其中充塞著飛行中途被阻擋的子彈。
如非我同意，無一事會發生
沒有我的旨意，無一片葉子會掉落，
沒有一片草葉會在停駐的小蹄下折腰。

是否有一世界
由我絕對統治，猶如命定？
有一時代由我繫之以一連串的標誌？
存在的事物在我的指示下永不止息？

寫作的喜悅
保存的力量
有限生命之手的復仇
 
                   The Joy of Writing

Why does this written doe bound through these written woods?
For a drink of written water from a spring
whose surface will xerox her soft muzzle?
Why does she lift her head; does she hear something?
Perched on four slim legs borrowed from the truth,
she pricks up her ears beneath my fingertips.
Silence - this word also rustles across the page
and parts the boughs
that have sprouted from the word "woods."

Lying in wait, set to pounce on the blank page,
are letters up to no good,
clutches of clauses so subordinate
they'll never let her get away.

Each drop of ink contains a fair supply
of hunters, equipped with squinting eyes behind their sights,
prepared to swarm the sloping pen at any moment,
surround the doe, and slowly aim their guns.

They forget that what's here isn't life.
Other laws, black on white, obtain.
The twinkling of an eye will take as long as I say,
and will, if I wish, divide into tiny eternities,
full of bullets stopped in mid-flight.
Not a thing will ever happen unless I say so.
Without my blessing, not a leaf will fall,
not a blade of grass will bend beneath that little hoof's full stop.

Is there then a world
where I rule absolutely on fate?
A time I bind with chains of signs?
An existence become endless at my bidding?

The joy of writing.
The power of preserving.
Revenge of a mortal hand.