Woe!

Czeslaw Milosz

It is true, our tribe is similar to the bees,
It gathers honey of wisdom, carries it, stores it in honeycombs.
I am able to roam for hours
Through the labyrinth of the main library, floor to floor.
But yesterday, looking for the words of masters and prophets,
I wandered into high regions
That are visited by practically no one.
I would open a book and could decipher nothing.
For letters faded and disappeared from the pages.
Woe! I exclaimed-so it comes to this?
Where are you, venerable ones, with your beards and wigs,
Your nights spent by a candle, griefs of your wives?
So a message saving the world is silenced forever?
At your home it was the day of making preserves.
And your dog, sleeping by the fire, would wake up,
Yawn, and look at you, as if knowing. 

Next 10 Poems

• John Milton : An Epitaph On The Admirable Dramatic Poet W. Shakespeare
• John Milton : An Epitaph On The Marchioness Of Winchester
• John Milton : Another On The Same
• John Milton : Arcades
• John Milton : At A Solemn Musick
• John Milton : At A Vacation Exercise In The Colledge, Part Latin, Part English. The Latin Speeches Ended, The English Thus Began
• John Milton : Comus
• John Milton : From 'arcades'
• John Milton : From 'samson Agonistes' I
• John Milton : How Soon Hath Time

Previous 10 Poems

• Czeslaw Milosz : Window
• Czeslaw Milosz : What Does It Mean
• Czeslaw Milosz : Unde Malum
• Czeslaw Milosz : Study Of Loneliness
• Czeslaw Milosz : Statue Of A Couple
• Czeslaw Milosz : Song On The End Of The World
• Czeslaw Milosz : On Prayer
• Czeslaw Milosz : On Angels
• Czeslaw Milosz : Not Mine
• Czeslaw Milosz : Meaning