Experience has taught [Milosz] the practical uselessness of poetry, yet he is still prepared to countenance a public role for it as a medium of truth-telling. The accurate use of language: that in itself is a salutary aim if we are not to be doomed to repetitions of our history.

Milosz's earlier poetry had been apocalyptic in tone, earning him the nickname 'catastrophist'. When his countrymen retreated from their capital, his view of things subtly changed.

        When we were leaving the burning city,
        On the first field path, turning back our eyes,
        I said 'Let the grass cover our footprints.
        Let the harsh prophet be silent in the fire
        And let the dead tell the dead what happened.'

The image of the refugee looking back on Warsaw is characteristically ambivalent. The poet who had worn the mantle of Cassandra now seems to wish that the horror should...