On Pilgrimageby Czeslaw Milosz
English version by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Hass
Original Language Polish
May the smell of thyme and lavender accompany us on our journey
To a province that does not know how lucky it is
For it was, among all the hidden corners of the earth,
The only one chosen and visited.
We tended toward the Place but no signs led there.
Till it revealed itself in a pastoral valley
Between mountains that look older than memory,
By a narrow river humming at the grotto.
May the taste of wine and roast meat stay with us
As it did when we used to feast in the clearings,
Searching, not finding, gathering rumors,
Always comforted by the brightness of the day.
May the gentle mountains and the bells of the flocks
Remind us of everything we have lost,
For we have seen on our way and fallen in love
With the world that will pass in a twinkling.
|-- from New and Collected Poems 1931 - 2001, by Czeslaw Milosz|
|New and Collected Poems 1931 - 2001||The Collected Poems||Against Forgetting: Twentieth-Century Poetry of Witness||To Begin Where I Am: The Selected Prose of Czeslaw Milosz||A Treatise on Poetry|
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