A Confession (1985)
My Lord, I loved strawberry jam
And the dark sweetness of a woman’s body.
Also well-chilled vodka, herring in olive oil,
Scents, of cinnamon, of cloves.
So what kind of prophet am I? Why should the spirit
Have visited such a man? Many others
Were justly called, and trustworthy.
Who would have trusted me? For they saw
How I empty glasses, throw myself on food,
And glance greedily at the waitress’s neck.
Flawed and aware of it. Desiring greatness,
Able to recognise greatness wherever it is,
And yet not quite, only in part, clairvoyant,
I knew what was left for smaller men like me:
A feast of brief hopes, a rally of the proud,
A tournament of hunchbacks, literature.
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Jan 25th, 2007 at 7:05 pm
That’s an awesome poem in sound and content. I’ll have to look for more by him.
Do you have some sort of plugin John? Do you hold all comment for moderation and get it to recognize your logged in appending or do you hand-change the font for your response?
jb says: I don’t use a plugin. I do hold all comments for moderation, though. Then, whenever I log in I get rid of the rubbish and reply to comments that strike me as needing a reply. I don’t change the font, but I do make the beginning of my answer ‘bold’ to differentiate it from the comment.
Apr 30th, 2007 at 4:03 pm
I just discovered this, John, as I am just discovering the remarkable man that was Milosz - alas, too late.
jb says: Can’t be too late, Robert. It’s all there for us.
Nov 24th, 2007 at 3:42 am
Thank you for that poem in English. I was looking for it since a while. Is it your translation? Milosz was a great poet. I have studied his early works in school (compulsory), but now enjoy his later works much more - so deep and ironic to himself. I remember, I saw him ones when he gave a speech at my university. Then, I was ashamed when he died and the ‘discussion’ in the media started on whether engrave him with another important Polish poets in Skalka-church in Krakow or not. The argument of the opponents was… he was not 100% Polish, he was a communist, his work is ambiguous… Finally his grave is there and one can visit it. But what he has left us as poet, speaks for himself.
jb says: Hi Lukasz, good to hear from you, and thanks for the story around Milosz’ death. I don’t know who translated the poem.