I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on
hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about
something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love’s concerned,
nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the
over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering
countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of
order.
I prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’
front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers
without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven’t
mentioned here
to many things I’ve also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time
of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and
when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the
possibility
that existence has its own reason for
being.
Wisława Szymborska
