<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360098" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Late Ripeness</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year,<br>I felt a door opening in me and I entered<br>the clarity of early morning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One after another my former lives were departing,<br>like ships, together with their sorrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the countries, cities, gardens, the bays of seas<br>assigned to my brush came closer,<br>ready now to be described better than they were before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was not separated from people,<br>grief and pity joined us.<br>We forget - I kept saying - that we are all children of the King.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For where we come from there is no division<br>into Yes and No, into is, was, and will be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We were miserable, we used no more than a hundredth part<br>of the gift we received for our long journey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moments from yesterday and from centuries ago -<br>a sword blow, the painting of eyelashes before a mirror<br>of polished metal, a lethal musket shot, a caravel<br>staving its hull against a reef - they dwell in us,<br>waiting for a fulfillment.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I knew, always, that I would be a worker in the vineyard,<br>as are all men and women living at the same time,<br>whether they are aware of it or not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Czeslaw+Milosz">Czeslaw Milosz</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360098" data-title="Late Ripeness de Czeslaw Milosz" data-description="Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, I felt a door opening in me and I entered the clarity of early morning. One after another my former lives were departing, like ships, together with their sorrow. And the countries, cities, ..."></div> </div> </div>

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