This is an easy column to write. A previous column I wrote about the great Polish poet, Czeslaw Milosz, drew a lovely response from readers who told me by notes, emails, even phone calls, overseas and at home, that they enjoyed this poet very much.
I was surprised. Some said they would be looking to get his works. And some asked me to give a few more examples of his poetry.
So this column simply consists of my favourite of all Czeslaw Milosz’s poems. It was written when he was a young man, trapped in Warsaw 1944 when not only his world but all civilization seemed to be collapsing.