- And Yet the Books
By Czeslaw Milosz
And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings,
That appeared once, still wet
As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
- So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
- Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
And Yet the Books.doc 
