Czeslaw Milosz (30 June 1911 – 14 August 2004 / Kedainiai)
Now that a revolution really is needed, those who were fervent are quite cool.
While a country murdered and raped calls for help from the Europe which it had trusted, they yawn.
While statesmen choose villainy and no voice is raised to call it by name.
The rebellion of the young who called for a new earth was a sham, and that generation has written the verdict on itself.
Listening with indifference to the cries of those who perish because they are after all just barbarians killing each other.
And the lives of the well-fed are worth more than the lives of the starving.
It is revealed now that their Europe since the beginning has been a deception, for its faith and its foundation is nothingness.
And nothingness, as the prophets keep saying, brings forth only nothingness, and they will be led once again like cattle to slaughter.
Let them tremble and at the last moment comprehend that the word Sarajevo will from now on mean the destruction of their sons and the debasement of their daughters.
They prepare it by repeating: "We at least are safe," unaware that what will strike them ripens in themselves.
Comments about this poem (Sarajevo by Czeslaw Milosz )
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