Czeslaw Milosz Poems
|43.||Study Of Loneliness||1/3/2003|
|53.||In Black Despair||1/13/2003|
|55.||Campo Di Fiori||1/3/2003|
|56.||And Yet The Books||1/8/2004|
|57.||I Sleep A Lot||1/3/2003|
|58.||At A Certain Age||1/3/2003|
|59.||A Poem For The End Of The Century||1/3/2003|
|60.||Conversation With Jeanne||1/3/2003|
|64.||Child Of Europe||2/2/2004|
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 ...
In fear and trembling, I think I would fulfill my life
Only if I brought myself to make a public confession
Revealing a sham, my own and of my epoch:
We were permitted to shriek in the tongue of dwarfs and
But pure and generous words were forbidden
Under so stiff a penalty that whoever dared to pronounce one
Considered himself as a lost man.