AND THE WHOLE EARTH IS LIKE A POEM...





The empty pond of Pole Mokotowskie.

Słońce

All colours come from the sun. And it does not have
Any particular colour, for it contains them all.
And the whole earth is like a poem
While the sun above represents the artist.

Whoever wants to paint the variegated world
Let him never look straight up at the sun
Or he will lose the memory of things he has seen
Only burning tears will stay in his eyes.

Let him kneel down, lower his face to the grass,
And look at light reflected by the ground.
There he will find everything we have lost:
The stars and the roses, the dusks and the dawns.

Czesław Miłosz (Warsaw, 1943)




The pine grove of the Russian Cemetery.






A silver birch grove on the north-west edge of Las Kabacki.



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