Idea

The name of this year’s edition of the festival, IT, refers both to the title of a book of poetry  written by Czesław Miłosz published 25 years ago and its opening poem. In the phreases of IT, the old poet makes a poignant confession about the impossibility of capturing certain aspects of reality. IT is, simultaneously, the source of poetry and the inscrutable border of what can be expressed. IT means coming up against a stone wall and realizing that this wall will not give in to our pleas.

The striking presence of the inexpressible keeps the poet restless, yearning to articulate what lurks within. Paradoxically, that which cannot be named draws attention of poets who strive nevertheless to put it into words. IT can be hidden under the ecstatic exaltations of existence, visions of the unattainable idyllic. It can surface as an untamable, silent cry or weave itself between the meanings of words which give names to more palatable things. During this year’s Miłosz Festival we will listen to poetry that, in spite of everything, strives to capture the ever-elusive.