A Song On The End Of The World By Czeslaw Milosz

A Song On The End Of The World By Czeslaw Milosz On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net. Happy porpoises jump in the sea, By the rainspout young sparrows are playing And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be. On the day the […]

Gift By Czesław Miłosz

Gift By Czesław Miłosz A day so happy. Fog lifted early, I worked in the garden. Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers. There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess. I knew no one worth my envying him. Whatever evil I had suffered, I forgot. To think that once I was the same […]

Song Of A Citizen By Czeslaw Milosz

Song Of A Citizen By Czeslaw Milosz A stone from the bottom, who has seen the seas dry up And a million white fish leaping in torture, I – poor man, see swarms of white denuded people Without freedom, I see the crab which feeds on their flesh. I have seen the fall of states […]

A Poor Christian Looks At The Ghetto By Czeslaw Milosz

A Poor Christian Looks At The Ghetto By Czeslaw Milosz Bees build around red liver, Ants build around black bone. It has begun: the tearing, the trampling on silks, It has begun: the breaking of glass, wood, copper, nickel, silver, foam Of gypsum, iron sheets, violin strings, trumpets, leaves, balls, crystals. Poof! Phosphorescent fire from […]

On Angels By Czesław Miłosz

On Angels By Czesław Miłosz All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence. Yet I believe you, messengers. There, where the world is turned inside out, a heavy fabric embroidered with stars and beasts, you stroll, inspecting the trustworthy seams. Short is your stay here: now and then at a matinal hour, […]

Ars Poetica By Czeslaw Milosz

Ars Poetica By Czeslaw Milosz I have always aspired to a more spacious form   that would be free from the claims of poetry or prose   and would let us understand each other without exposing   the author or reader to sublime agonies.    In the very essence of poetry there is something indecent:   a thing is brought forth which we didn’t know […]