Magic [poem] [Polish translation]

My idea of magic doesn't have much

to do with stage tricks and illusions.

The whole world abounds in magic.

When a whale plunges out of the sea

like a newborn mountain, you gasp

in unexpected delight. What magic!

But a toddler who sees

his first tadpole flashing

in a mud puddle,

feels the same thrill!

Wonder fills his heart,

because he has glimpsed,

for an instant, the

playfulness of life.

When I see the clouds whisked away

from a snow-capped peak, I feel like

shouting: "Bravo! Nature, the best of

all magicians, has delivered another

thrill". She has exposed the real illusion.

Our inability to be amazed by her wonders.

Every time the sun rises, nature is

repeating one command: "Behold!".

Her magic is infinitely lavish, and in

return all we have to do is appreciate it.

What delight nature must feel when

she makes stars out of swirling

gas and empty space.

She flings them like spangles

from a velvet cape. A billion reasons

for us to awaken in pure joy.

When we open our hearts

and appreciate all she has given us,

nature finds her reward. The sound

of applause rolls across the universe,

and she bows.