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

Incantation

Human reason is beautiful and invincible.
No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books,
No sentence of banishment can prevail against it.
It establishes the universal ideas in language,
And guides our hand so we write Truth and Justice
With capital letters, lie and oppression with small.
It puts what should be above things as they are,
Is an enemy of despair and a friend of hope.
It does not know Jew from Greek or slave from master,
Giving us the estate of the world to manage.
It saves austere and transparent phrases
From the filthy discord of tortured ...

Read the full of Incantation

What Does It Mean

It does not know it glitters
It does not know it flies
It does not know it is this not that.

And, more and more often, agape,
With my Gauloise dying out,
Over a glass of red wine,
I muse on the meaning of being this not that.

[Hata Bildir]