A Contribution to Statistics by Wislawa Szymborska

Out of a hundred people

those who always know better

-- fifty-two

doubting every step

-- nearly all the rest,

glad to lend a hand

if it doesn't take too long

-- as high as forty-nine,

always good

because they can't be otherwise

-- four, well maybe five,

able to admire without envy

-- eighteen,

suffering illusions

induced by fleeting youth

-- sixty, give or take a few,

not to be taken lightly

-- forty and four,

living in constant fear

of someone or something

-- seventy-seven,

capable of happiness

-- twenty-something tops,

harmless singly, savage in crowds

-- half at least,

cruel

when forced by circumstances

-- better not to know

even ballpark figures,

wise after the fact

-- just a couple more

than wise before it,

taking only things from life

-- thirty

(I wish I were wrong),

hunched in pain,

no flashlight in the dark

-- eighty-three

sooner or later,

righteous

-- thirty-five, which is a lot,

righteous

and understanding

-- three,

worthy of compassion

-- ninety-nine,

mortal

-- a hundred out of a hundred.

Thus far this figure still remains unchanged.

 

~ Wislawa Szymborska ~

(Poems: New and Selected, trans. by S. Baranczak and C. Cavanagh)