On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Czeslaw MiloszI think that I am here, on this earth, to present a report on it, but to whom I don't know. As if I were sent so that whatever takes place has meaning because it changes into memory.
Czeslaw MiloszOnly a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy, Repeats while he binds his tomatoes: No other end of the world will there be, No other end of the world will there be.
Czeslaw Milosz