Czeslaw Milosz

(30 June 1911 – 14 August 2004 / Kedainiai)

Czeslaw Milosz Poems

1. Veni Seer 3/23/2012
2. Theodicy 4/21/2010
3. Raja Rao 3/23/2012
4. To Mrs. Professor In Defense Of My Cat's Honor And Not Only 4/21/2010
5. The Dining Room 3/23/2012
6. It Was Winter 4/21/2010
7. Sarajevo 3/23/2012
8. One More Contradiction 3/23/2012
9. The Rising Of The Sun 3/23/2012
10. Preface 3/23/2012
11. The Road 3/23/2012
12. By The Peonies 3/23/2012
13. An Hour 3/23/2012
14. Where The Sun Rises And Where It Sets 3/23/2012
15. My Faithful Mother Tongue 3/23/2012
16. You Whose Name 3/23/2012
17. Road-Side Dog 3/23/2012
18. And The City Stood In Its Brightness 2/20/2015
19. Earth Again 3/23/2012
20. Christopher Robin 3/23/2012
21. Faith 3/23/2012
22. Annalena 3/23/2012
23. Winter 4/21/2010
24. In Warsaw 3/23/2012
25. You Who Wronged 4/21/2010
26. Hope 3/23/2012
27. A Treatise On Poetry: Iv Natura 4/21/2010
28. How It Was 4/21/2010
29. Not Mine 1/1/2004
30. City Without A Name 4/21/2010
31. Woe! 1/8/2004
32. Window 1/3/2003
33. Statue Of A Couple 1/3/2003
34. A Poor Christian Looks At The Ghetto 4/21/2010
35. Unde Malum 1/8/2004
36. A Felicitous Life 4/21/2010
37. A Magic Mountain 4/21/2010
38. What Does It Mean 1/3/2003
39. A Song On The End Of The World 4/21/2010
40. On Angels 1/13/2003
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.

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