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I liked beaches, swimming pools, and clinics for there they were the bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. I pitied them and myself, but this will not protect me. The word and the thought are over.

Czeslaw Milosz

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Czeslaw Milosz
Age: 93 †
Born: 1911
Born: June 30
Died: 2004
Died: August 14
Diplomat
Essayist
Pedagogue
Poet
Translator
University Teacher
Writer
Clarksburg
West Virginia
Miłosz
Czelaw Milosz
Thought
Swimming
Pool
Beach
Clinics
Bones
Pitied
Liked
Pools
Flesh
Beaches
Protect
Clinic
Word
Bone

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The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.
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You see how I try To reach with words What matters most And how I fail.
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What has no shadow has no strength to live.
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We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.
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If I am all mankind, are they themselves without me?
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Even if that is so, there will remain A word wakened by lips that perish, A tireless messenger who runs and runs Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies, And calls out, protests, screams.
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Consciousness even in my sleep changes primary colors. The features of my face melt like a wax doll in the fire. And who can consent to see in the mirror the mere face of man?
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All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence.
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They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds. I put this book here for you, who once lived So that you should visit us no more.
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The true enemy of man is generalization.
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A man should not love the moon. An ax should not lose weight in his hand. His garden should smell of rotting apples, And grow a fair amount of nettles.
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When I curse Fate, it's not me, but the earth in me.
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I think that I am here, on this earth, to present a report on it, but to whom I don't know. As if I were sent so that whatever takes place has meaning because it changes into memory.
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A day so happy. Fog lifted early. I worked in the garden. Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers. There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess. I know no one worth my envying him.
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I have no wisdom, no skills, and no faith but I received strength, it tears the world apart. I shall break, a heavy wave, against its shores and a young wave will cover my trace.
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Do not feel safe. The poet remembers. You can kill one, but another is born. The words are written down, the deed, the date.
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It was only toward the middle of the twentieth century that the inhabitants of many European countries came, in general unpleasantly, to the realization that their fate could be influenced directly by intricate and abstruse books of philosophy.
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I am composed of contradictions, which is why poetry is a better form for me than philosophy
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What is poetry which does not save nations or people?
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