Czeslaw Milosz

(30 June 1911 – 14 August 2004 / Kedainiai)

Czeslaw Milosz Poems

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

Child Of Europe

1
We, whose lungs fill with the sweetness of day.
Who in May admire trees flowering
Are better than those who perished.

We, who taste of exotic dishes,
And enjoy fully the delights of love,
Are better than those who were buried.

We, from the fiery furnaces, from behind barbed wires
On which the winds of endless autumns howled,
We, who remember battles where the wounded air roared in
paroxysms of pain.
We, saved by our own cunning and knowledge.

By sending others to the more exposed positions
Urging them loudly to fight ...

Read the full of Child Of Europe

Conversation With Jeanne

Let us not talk philosophy, drop it, Jeanne.
So many words, so much paper, who can stand it.
I told you the truth about my distancing myself.
I've stopped worrying about my misshapen life.
It was no better and no worse than the usual human tragedies.

For over thirty years we have been waging our dispute
As we do now, on the island under the skies of the tropics.
We flee a downpour, in an instant the bright sun again,

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