Czeslaw Milosz Poems
|42.||Study Of Loneliness||1/3/2003|
|53.||In Black Despair||1/13/2003|
|55.||And Yet The Books||1/8/2004|
|56.||Conversation With Jeanne||1/3/2003|
|57.||A Poem For The End Of The Century||1/3/2003|
|58.||I Sleep A Lot||1/3/2003|
|59.||Campo Di Fiori||1/3/2003|
|61.||At A Certain Age||1/3/2003|
|62.||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 ...
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.