I don’t remember exactly when Budberg died, it was either two years …
Czeslaw Milosz
On the day the world ends …
The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes. …
I have always aspired to a more spacious form …
In Rome on the Campo dei Fiori …
Who will honor the city without a name …
You whom I could not save …
We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn. …
Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, …
This happened long ago, before the onset …
No, it won’t do, my sweet theologians. …
Come, Holy Spirit, …
You who wronged a simple man …