Encounter by Czeslaw Milosz
"O my love, where are they, where are they going / The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles."
Poetry Reading by Anna Swir
Things I want to teach myself: how to be transparent but not give away all the mystery, how to be honest but not be overwhelmed with vulnerability, how to be accepting without being defeatist, how to be here and be
The Greatest Love by Anna Swir
Dear October: I need you to be over. I am so tired. I think I'm coming down with something. A fool: they loved calling me that. Yours, T. The Greatest Love Anna Swir Translated by Czeslaw Milosz She is sixty. She lives the greatest love of her
Late Ripeness by Czeslaw Milosz
Thinking about my grandfather again. Late Ripeness Czeslaw Milosz Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, I felt a door opening in me and I entered the clarity of early morning. One after another my former lives were departing, like ships, together with
Account by Czeslaw Milosz
I am at the lowest point of my life. Sunday was supposed to be for rest, for taking a deep breath, for snuggling under the covers and sleeping in and ignoring the harsh world outside. I didn't do all of
Faith by Czeslaw Milosz
I remember this conversation I had with someone I know (I hesitate to call her friend, although I would imagine she calls me that), maybe around two years ago. We were talking about God. Or rather, I was talking about
In Black Despair by Czeslaw Milosz
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