I gave birth to life. It went out of my entrails and asks for the sacrifice of my life as does an Aztec deity. I lean over a little puppet, we look at each other with four eyes.

"You are not going to defeat me," I say "I won't be an egg which you would crack in a hurry for the world, a footbridge that you would take on the way to your life. I will defend myself."

I lean over a little puppet, I notice a tiny movement of a tiny finger which a little while ago was still in me, in which, under a thin skin, my own blood flows. And suddenly I am flooded by a high, luminous wave of humility. Powerless, I drown.

(Translated from the Polish by Czeslaw Milosz and Leonard Nathan)

Note: Discovered this poem in an anthology of poems put out the Copper Canyon Press titled "The Poet's Child". Milosz was a very big fan of Ana Swir, and given the resonances these two poets share, one can see why.