So Little

So Little

A Poem for the End of the Century
Ars poetica?
No More
So Little
The Emperor Constantine

Hope is with you when you believe
The earth is not a dream but living flesh,
That sight, touch, and hearing do not lie,
That all things you have ever seen here
Are like a garden looked at from a gate.

You cannot enter. But you’re sure it’s there.
Could we but look more clearly and wisely
We might discover somewhere in the garden
A strange new flower and an unnamed star.

Some people say we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing, just a seeming,
These are the ones who have no hope.
They think that the moment we turn away,
The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,
As if snatched up by the hands of thieves.

AuthorCzesław Miłosz
2018-08-21T17:23:24+00:00 September 1st, 2004|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 38|0 Comments