Czeslaw Milosz

(30 June 1911 – 14 August 2004 / Kedainiai)

Czeslaw Milosz Poems

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