A Hall
The road led straight to the temple.
Notre Dame, though not Gothic at all.
The huge doors were closed.
I chose one on the side,
Not to the main building-to its left wing,
The one in green copper,
worn into gaps below.
I pushed. Then it was revealed:
An astonishing large hall, in warm light.
Great statues of sitting
women-goddesses,
In draped robes, marked
it with a rhythm.
Color embraced me like the
interior of a purple-brown flower
Of unheard-of size. I walked, liberated
From worries, pangs of
conscience, and fears.
I knew I was there as one
day I would be.
I woke up serene, thinking
that this dream
Answers my question, often asked:
How is it when one passes
the last threshold?
Notre Dame, though not Gothic at all.
The huge doors were closed.
I chose one on the side,
Not to the main building-to its left wing,
The one in green copper,
worn into gaps below.
I pushed. Then it was revealed:
An astonishing large hall, in warm light.
Great statues of sitting
women-goddesses,
In draped robes, marked
it with a rhythm.
Color embraced me like the
interior of a purple-brown flower
Of unheard-of size. I walked, liberated
From worries, pangs of
conscience, and fears.
I knew I was there as one
day I would be.
I woke up serene, thinking
that this dream
Answers my question, often asked:
How is it when one passes
the last threshold?
- Czesław Miłosz
The visitor experience of the memorial is done with symbolic gestures
based on ‘A hall,’ a poem by Czesław Miłosz, to whom the memorial is
dedicated. The poem states that a visitor shall pass through the hall, and
as the poem says, the visitor passes there and experiences the life of an
writer.
based on ‘A hall,’ a poem by Czesław Miłosz, to whom the memorial is
dedicated. The poem states that a visitor shall pass through the hall, and
as the poem says, the visitor passes there and experiences the life of an
writer.
