In the award speech, the Nobel Committee called Simboska "Mozart among poets", a woman who integrated the elegance of language into "Beethoven-style anger" and used humor to deal with serious topics. Will not insult the body. Death? Come in a deep sleep, this is what it should look like. When death comes, you will dream that you don't have to breathe; Silence without breathing is the music of the night, and the spark disappears.

Part of the rhythm. There was only one such death. I guess a rose will stab you mercilessly; You will feel even more horrible in the sound of petals falling to the ground. There is only one such world. Die like that. Live well. The only thing left is Bach's fugue,

In the musical Saw, play for that moment. Milosz joined the modernist poetry movement in his early years and joined the anti-fascist resistance organization during World War II. A poet who has experienced exile can see a running theme in his poems, that is, time and redemption.

Mothers and sisters, gentle wives and lovers thought of them. They're alive. They have names. In the glorious Adriatic beach, during the two world wars, I met a girl who was so beautiful that I wanted to leave her at that irreversible moment. Her slender figure is tightly wrapped in a silk swimsuit (before the plastic age), bright blue or dark blue. Eyes are purple and hair is almost brown. The daughter of a nobleman, perhaps of a family, walks confidently. A young blonde, although she is beautiful,

Act as her attendant. Sigrid or Inge gave orders safely in the room smelling of cigars. "Don't disappear, fool. It is best to take refuge in idols, church murals, and golden red dawn. Stay, like the echo on the water at sunset. Don't destroy yourself, don't believe it. It's not brilliant and glorious, but a stupid circus summons you to your tribal ceremony. " I'll tell her. A smell, a corpse? A unique ghost? Although the date and place of birth control her like a constellation: through her love of local customs,

And her virtue of obedience. Hey. Dante was wrong. That's not true. The ruling is universal. The eternal curse will torment all of them, yes, all of them. This is not impossible. Jesus had to face gorgeous teapots, coffee, philosophical discussions, deer scenes and city hall bells. No one will believe him, black eyes, aquiline nose and dirty clothes.

A criminal or slave, one of the vagrants legally arrested and disposed of by the state. Now, when I know more, I have to forget my crimes. It's no different from them: I want to act like everyone else. Close my eyes. Don't listen to the prophet. Why do I understand her? Comfortable home, yard. From the depths of hell. Bach's fugue.