How is it, Chloe, that your pretty skirt
Is torn so badly by the winds that hurt
Real people, you who, in eternity, sing
The hours, sun in your hair appearing
And disappearing? How is that your breasts
Are pierced by shrapnel, and the oak groves burn,
While you, charmed, caring not at all, turn
To run through forests of machinery and concrete
And haunt us with the echoes of your feet?
'A Book in the Ruins', 1941, translated by the author & Robert Hass
Miłosz’s wartime experience had a great impact on his poetry, wherein the idyllic and the apocalyptic go hand-in-hand. The wealth of visual metaphors in his verse has earned him warm praise from the most eminent critics, including his fellow countryman in exile Joseph Brodsky.