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In Black Despair by Czeslaw Milosz

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Whenever I doubt myself, I always remember this poem. Was I brave or was I a hypocrite?

In Black Despair
Czeslaw Milosz

In grayish doubt and black despair,
I drafted hymns to the earth and the air,
pretending to joy, although I lacked it.
The age had made lament redundant.

So here’s the question — who can answer it —
Was he a brave man or a hypocrite?

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