Unveiling the Depths of Czesław Miłosz's Poetry ✨

It does not know it glitters <br />It does not know it flies <br />It does not know it is this not that. <br /> <br />And, more and more often, agape, <br />With my Gauloise dying out, <br />Over a glass of red wine, <br />I muse on the meaning of being this not that. <br /> <br />Just as long ago, when I was twenty, <br />But then there was a hope I would be everything, <br />Perhaps even a butterfly or a thrush, by magic. <br />Now I see dusty district roads <br />And a town where the postmaster gets drunk every day <br />Melancholy with remaining identical to himself. <br /> <br />If only the stars contained me. <br />If only everything kept happening in such a way <br />That the so-called world opposed the so-called flesh. <br />Were I at least not contradictory. Alas.<br /><br />Czeslaw Milosz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-does-it-mean/