Czeslaw Milosz

(30 June 1911 – 14 August 2004 / Kedainiai)

Czeslaw Milosz Poems

1. A Felicitous Life 4/21/2010
2. A Hall 1/8/2004
3. A Magic Mountain 4/21/2010
4. A Poem For The End Of The Century 1/3/2003
5. A Poor Christian Looks At The Ghetto 4/21/2010
6. A Song On The End Of The World 4/21/2010
7. A Task 1/13/2003
8. A Treatise On Poetry: Iv Natura 4/21/2010
9. Account 1/13/2003
10. An Hour 3/23/2012
11. And The City Stood In Its Brightness 2/20/2015
12. And Yet The Books 1/8/2004
13. Annalena 3/23/2012
14. Ars Poetica? 1/20/2003
15. Artificer 1/20/2003
16. At A Certain Age 1/3/2003
17. By The Peonies 3/23/2012
18. Campo Di Fiori 1/3/2003
19. Child Of Europe 2/2/2004
20. Christopher Robin 3/23/2012
21. City Without A Name 4/21/2010
22. Conversation With Jeanne 1/3/2003
23. Dedication 1/3/2003
24. Earth Again 3/23/2012
25. Encounter 1/20/2003
26. Faith 3/23/2012
27. Father Explains 1/3/2003
28. Forget 1/13/2003
29. Hope 3/23/2012
30. How It Was 4/21/2010
31. I Sleep A Lot 1/3/2003
32. In Black Despair 1/13/2003
33. In Warsaw 3/23/2012
34. Incantation 1/3/2003
35. It Was Winter 4/21/2010
36. Lake 1/13/2003
37. Late Ripeness 1/13/2003
38. Love 1/3/2003
39. Magpiety 1/3/2003
40. Meaning 1/8/2004
Best Poem of Czeslaw Milosz

Love

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills—
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.

Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn’t matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn’t always understand.

Read the full of Love

Conversation With Jeanne

Let us not talk philosophy, drop it, Jeanne.
So many words, so much paper, who can stand it.
I told you the truth about my distancing myself.
I've stopped worrying about my misshapen life.
It was no better and no worse than the usual human tragedies.

For over thirty years we have been waging our dispute
As we do now, on the island under the skies of the tropics.
We flee a downpour, in an instant the bright sun again,

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