Triumphal poetry
„The World (A Naive
Poem)"
„The World" is the second poem written by Milosz in 1943. It is
one of the most joyful poems in Polish literature. Milosz himself described this
text in the English handbook in such a way:
„ Its stanzas (...) describe the beauty of the simplest things
and express the effort of resisting the temptation of total distress"
(translated by Izabella Wiencek) let us add: during wartime.
The poem is included in the volume „Rescue" and in comparison
with the rest, it shocks by the different topic, and its very cheerful climate. It is
the projection of the dream (never fulfilled) about the world in the form „it
should be".
In verses of this poem some aspects may be observed:
"His verses (...) describe the beauty of simple things and
express an effort one makes to resist overwhelming dispair."
- a man looking to permanent values for rescue; father is a symbol of life's wisdom.
FATHER EXPLAINS
(Rescue)
"There where that ray touches the
plain And the shadows escape as if they really ran, Warsaw stands,
open from all sides, A city not very old but quite
famous.
"Farther, where strings of rain hang from a little
cloud, Under the hills with an acacia grove Is Prague. Above it, a
marvelous castle Shored against a slope in accordance with old
rules.
"What divides this land with white foam Is the Alps. The
black means fir forests. Beyond them, bathing in the yellow
sun Italy lies, like a deep-blue dish.
"Among the many fine
cities that are there You will recognize Rome, Christendom's
capital, By those round roofs on the church Called the Basilica of
Saint Peter.
"And there, to the north, beyond a bay, Where a
level bluish mist moves in waves, Paris tries to keep pace with its
tower And reins in its herd of bridges.
"Also other cities
accompany Paris, They are adorned with glass, arrayed in iron, But
for today that would be too much, I'll tell the rest another
time
The family home appears as an oasis of quiet.
THE DINING ROOM
(Rescue)
A room with low windows, with brown
shades, Where a Danzig clock keeps silent in the corner; A low leather sofa; and right above
it The sculpted heads of two smiling devils; And a copper pan shows its
gleaming paunch.
On the wall a painting that depicts winter. A crowd
of people skate on ice Between the trees, smoke comes from a chimney, And
crows fly in an overcast sky.
Nearby a second clock. A bird sits
inside. It pops out squawking and calls three times. And it has barely
finished its third and last call When mother ladles out soup from a hot
tureen.
THE STAIRS (Rescue)
Yellow,
creaking, and smelling of wax The curved steps are narrow. Near the
wall You can place your shoe crosswise But near the banister they hardly
hold your foot.
The boar's head is alive, enormous in shadow. At
first, just the tusks, then as it grows The snout roams the ceiling, sniffing
the stairway vault while the light dissolves into vibrating
dust.
Mother carries down a flickering light. She walks slowly, tall,
her robe tied at the waist, Her shadow climbs up to the shadow of the
boar. And so she struggles, alone, with the cruel beast.
THE ROAD (Rescue)
There
where you see a green valley And a road half-covered with grass, Through
an oak wood beginning to bloom Children are returning home from school.
In a pencil case that opens
sideways Crayons rattle among crumbs of a roll And a copper penny saved
by every child To greet the first spring cuckoo.
Sister's beret and
brother's cap Bob in the bushy underbrush, A screeching jay hops in the
branches And long clouds float over the trees.
A red roof is already
visible at the bend. In front of the house father, leaning on a
hoe, Bows down, touches the unfolded leaves, And from his flower bed
inspects the whole region.
BY THE PEONIES
(Rescue)
The peonies bloom, white and
pink. And inside each, as in a fragrant bowl, A swarm of tiny
beetles have their conversation, For the flower is given to them as
their home.
Mother stands by the peony bed, Reaches for one
bloom, opens its petals, And looks for a long time into peony
lands, Where one short instant equals a whole year.
Then lets
the flower go. And what she thinks She repeats aloud to the children
and herself. The wind sways the green leaves gently And speckles of
light flick across their faces.
The charms of the ordinariness
soothe the threat of
anxiety.
- three evangelical virtues are very strongly stressed here:
faith, hope, love. They are the basis for order in the world, they guarantee harmony. The poet advises that we should look at the world with faith, find joy and calm in ordinary, everyday life:
FAITH (Rescue)
Faith is
in you whenever you look At a dewdrop or a floating leaf And know that
they are because they have to be. Even if you close your eyes and dream up
things The world will remain as it has always been And the leaf will be
carried by the waters of the river.
You have faith also when you hurt
your foot Against a sharp rock and you know That rocks are here to hurt
our feet. See the long shadow that is cast by the tree? We and the
flowers throw shadows on the earth. What has no shadow has no strength to
live.
The poem „Hope" - it is an appeal to maintain this
value
HOPE (Rescue)
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.
Wheras love will help to understand both the world and
people
LOVE (Rescue)
Love
means to learn to look at yourself The way one looks at distant
things For you are only one thing among many. And whoever sees that
way heals his heart, Without knowing it, from various ills- A bird
and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and
things So that they stand in the glow of ripeness. It doesn't matter
whether he knows what he serves: Who serves best doesn't always
understand.
This page, in its earlier 1997 version (use right mouse to open in new window), was created by Aleksandra Kolodziejczyk, Iwona Kowalska, and Dariusz Plygawko, students of the Fifth General Education Liceum in Bielsko-Biala. Marcin Tomana and Piotr Kowalski of the School's Informatics faculty and Urszula Zajaczek of the Polish Language faculty, acted as advisors. Linguistic editing of current version by Peter K. Gessner.
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