Guest Author - Jordan McCollum

Some Like Poetry
by Wisława Szymborska

Some –
thus not all. Not even the majority of all but the minority.
Not counting schools, where one has to,
and the poets themselves,
there might be two people per thousand.

Like –
but one also likes chicken soup with noodles,
one likes compliments and the color blue,
one likes an old scarf,
one likes having the upper hand,
one likes stroking a dog.

Poetry –
but what is poetry.
Many shaky answers
have been given to this question.
But I don't know and don't know and hold on to it
like to a sustaining railing.

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Note: Interpreting poetry in translation is an especially challenging task. We don't know what sounds the original Polish language conveyed, or even the connotations of those sounds in the Polish literary cannon. So interpreting a translated poem may not reap the same levels of meaning as the original might. A translated poem is almost like a derivative work.

In each stanza of the poem, "Some Like Poetry," Wisława Szymborska develops the meaning behind each word of her title. As she slowly delves into the meaning of each part of the title, she provides metaphors for the relationship that some enjoy with poetry, eventually winnowing her subject down to the relationship that she herself enjoys with poetry.

In the first stanza, Szymborska explores "Some." She laments that, excluding poets and schools "where one has to," "there might be two people per thousand" that like poetry. She begins this stanza by mentioning that "not all" enjoy poetry. She quickly moves to say that not even a majority enjoy it—a minority. She gradually focuses the poem on a smaller and smaller number of people by excluding those who study the art in school as well as poets, finally ending with a figure less than 1%.

In the second stanza, Szymborska develops what it means to "Like" poetry. Though we often say that we "like" or even love something, there are varying degrees to the depth or type of emotion which this verb denotes. The things she lists that people "like" are "chicken soup with noodles, / . . . compliments and the color blue, / . . . an old scarf, / . . . having the upper hand, / . . . stroking a dog."

The one who likes each of these items, largely, receives some benefit from each of them. Chicken soup with noodles brings health and healing to the sick. Compliments uplift one's spirits and make the recipient feel good. The color blue, which is said to be the favorite color of some 70% of the population, has connotations of sadness, but since it is such a well-loved favorite, it could also be interpreted as familiarity, warmth and even happiness. An old scarf, similarly, is comfortable and warm, protecting one against cold, harsh weather. Having the upper hand (sometimes translated as "proving one's point"), makes one feel powerful. Stroking a dog is usually rewarded with reciprocated affection.

Each of these experiences is analogous to the experience created by poetry. Because every person feels a different depth and type of emotion, poetry evokes a different response in each of its devotees. Whether it is because poetry uplifts its reader and steels them against a cold, harsh world or empowers its reader or even provides its reader with comfort and affection, the few that like poetry receive some emotional benefit from reading it.

In the final stanza, Szymborska delves into the definition of "Poetry" itself. She readily admits that though many have attempted to pin down a definition of the genre, it is an art that tends to defy definitions—and even she doesn't know how to define it.

Despite its almost ephemeral nature, she "hold[s] on to [poetry] / like to a sustaining railing." Here is yet another metaphor for poetry. But unlike the old scarf or stroking a dog, to Szymborska poetry is far more than an accessory or pet. It sustains her. She doesn't write her poetry to please the few that appreciate the art; she writes because it fortifies her soul.

To realize that your art and passion appeals to such a minuscule segment of the population would be disheartening to say the least. Szymborska admits that though poetry is an important subject studied in school, very few of its students truly appreciate or even enjoy it. Eventually, however, Szymborska narrows her focus to her relationship with the art—and concludes that though only a few like poetry, she truly needs it.

So though only two out of every thousand may truly like poetry, Szymborska will write. She doesn't just enjoy it or feel good about writing or reading poetry; expressing herself through poetry is one of her basic needs. Her visceral need for poetry is seen throughout her works, including this poem. Though only some may like poetry, Wisława Szymborska has truly made it a part of herself and her identity.