What has no shadow has no strength to live. Czeslaw Milosz More Quotes by Czeslaw Milosz More Quotes From Czeslaw Milosz 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? Czeslaw Milosz fire sleep men Forget the suffering You caused others. Forget the suffering Others caused you. The waters run and run, Springs sparkle and are done, You walk the earth you are forgetting. Sometimes you hear a distant refrain. What does it mean, you ask, who is singing? A childlike sun grows warm. A grandson and a great-grandson are born. You are led by the hand once again. The names of the rivers remain with you. How endless those rivers seem! Your fields lie fallow, The city towers are not as they were. You stand at the threshold mute. Czeslaw Milosz spring running lying All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence. Czeslaw Milosz taken white wings I have defined poetry as a 'passionate pursuit of the Real. Czeslaw Milosz pursuit passionate real Leaves glowing in the sun, zealous hum of bumblebees, From afar, from somewhere beyond the river, echoes of lingering voices And the unhurried sounds of a hammer gave joy not only to me. Before the five senses were opened, and earlier than any beginning They waited, ready, for all those who would call themselves mortals, So that they might praise, as I do, life, that is, happiness. Czeslaw Milosz glowing voice rivers And now I am ready to keep running When the sun rises beyond the borderlands of death. I already see mountain ridges in the heavenly forest Where, beyond every essence, a new essence awaits. Czeslaw Milosz memorial essence running Yet falling in love is not the same as being able to love. Czeslaw Milosz falling-in-love love-is fall I knew that I would speak in the language of the vanquished No more durable than old customs, family rituals, Christmas tinsel, and once a year the hilarity of carols. Czeslaw Milosz hilarity language years Irony is the glory of slaves. Czeslaw Milosz irony slave glory Learning To believe you are magnificent. And gradually to discover that you are not magnificent. Enough labor for one human life. Czeslaw Milosz human-life enough believe I am not my own friend.Time cuts me in two. Czeslaw Milosz end-times cutting two And if there is no lining to the world? If a thrush on a branch is not a sign, But just a thrush on the branch? If night and day Make no sense following each other? Czeslaw Milosz branches night world When I die, I will see the lining of the world. The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset. Czeslaw Milosz sunset mountain bird On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net. Czeslaw Milosz circles bees world For a country without a past is nothing, a word That, hardly spoken, loses its meaning, A perishable wall destroyed by flame, An echo of animal emotions. Czeslaw Milosz wall country past I imagine the earth when I am no more: Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley. Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born, Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights. Czeslaw Milosz song book people 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. Czeslaw Milosz messengers fields running 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 swimming flesh beach What is this enigmatic impulse that does not allow one to settle down in the achieved, the finished? I think it is a quest for reality. Czeslaw Milosz quests reality thinking Human reason is beautiful and invincible. No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books, No sentence of banishment can prevail against it. It puts what should be above things as they are. It does not know Jew from Greek nor slave from master. Czeslaw Milosz greek beautiful book
