We wanted to confess our sins but there were no takers.
White clouds refused to accept them, and the wind
Was too busy visiting sea after sea.
We did not succeed in interesting the animals.
Dogs, disappointed, expected an order,
A cat, as always immoral, was falling asleep.
A person seemingly very close
Did not care to hear of things long past.
Conversations with friends over vodka or coffee
Ought not be prolonged beyond the first sign of boredom.
It would be humiliating to pay by the hour
A man with a diploma, just for listening.
Churches. Perhaps churches. But to confess there what?
That we used to see ourselves as handsome and noble
Yet later in our place an ugly toad
Half-opens its thick eyelid
And one sees clearly: "That's me." 

Added: on March 30th, 2005 at 5:08 PM | Viewed: 873 times | Comments (3)

Poet: Czeslaw Milosz
Poem: At a Certain Age

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, At a Certain Age, has received 3 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Czeslaw Milosz with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!