18 Aug
Posted in: Poems
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And Sometimes It’s Like This

Last week I posted a poem by Jane Hirshfield that seemed to express something of what it it’s like — sometimes — when I meditate. For today, I’m posting another poem, this one by Czeslaw Milosz, which seems to capture another feeling I sometimes get when I meditate (but only sometimes).

by Czeslaw Milosz

A day so happy.

Fog lifted early. I worked in the garden.

Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers.

There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess.

I knew no one worth my envying him.

Whatever evil I had suffered, I forgot.

To think that once I was the same man did not embarrass me.

In my body I felt no pain.

When straightening up, I saw the blue sea and sails.

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