MILOSZ AND WORLD POETRY
33
consist in the combination of the Christian pessimism and eschatalogical
hope, a rejection of modernity and acceptance of modernity. On the poetic,
artistic level the same duality manifests itself by a constant shift, a constant
oscillation between the high diction, the almost Biblical diction of bliss, and
the low diction of disappointment, between the sublime and the mean, the
despicable. And also in the constant move between the essence of things and
frivolous or almost frivolous appearances, between diminutives like "little rab–
bit" and high diction, between
esse,
in the prose poem
"Esse,"
and the human
face. In the sixties, seventies, and eighties, his poetry has become populated by
individuals and objects. There is more and more tenderness in it, sometimes
shockingly mixed with the sardonic angry aloofuess of the demanding
prophet, as in the poem "Oeconomia Divina." This prophet sometimes hes–
itates, denies his hope, speaks wi th different voices, impersonates evil and good
spirits. But there's more and more tenderness, more and more memory:
"Elegy for N. N." opens a long series of splendid poems that capture a single
human fate, a gesture, a moment, a day. A woman who lived a hundred years
ago rises from the ashes and enjoys a brief cameo appearance on the screen
of Milosz's verses. But even this tenderness, so humane, has an eschatological
undertone; it seems to be a preparation for a gigantic catalogue of women and
men, women first. For things to come, for last things, which perhaps won't be
the last. The same tenderness explodes in
Unattainable Earth,
and gets entan–
gled in the doings of the era.
The main thing for Milosz is of course poetry, but it has been accom–
panied by other endeavors. One of them is essay writing, which for Milosz
has never been a leisurely activity, a kind of Sunday writing. In the essays,
his marvellous alert intelligence has kept vigil and has protected the main
body of Milosz's writing, his poetry, from the poisons of the time, from
mistakes, from despair. Another part of Milosz's life work has been his dia–
logue with other poets, living and dead, Polish, European, and American.
He has been a voracious reader, translator, and critic of other poets' work,
has assimilated and sometimes rejected their aesthetics. Before the war
French poetry attracted his attention-Oscar Milosz, but also others, some
with a more cosmic perspective, perhaps including even Paul Claudel.
With the changing challenges, Milosz turned to English language poets.
T.
S. Eliot and W. H. Auden were helpful in dealing with the problems of
history and politics. Much later, he was drawn to American poets who
resisted confessional poetry and kept seeing the objective world. He read
and commented on Polish poets, with Adam Mickiewicz as his absolute
master, and the whole, as he calls it, "household" of Polish poetry.
If I had more time, I would discuss the fascinating combination in his
work of his liberal, poli tical sympathies and his deep interest in the mys–
tery of the transcendent. This combination creates the most unusual and
