no other end of the world

A Song on the End of the World


On the day the world ends
A bee circles a clover,
A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.

On the day the world ends
Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas,
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a starry night.

And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels' trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and the moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits a rose,
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.

Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet
Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
No other end of the world will there be,
No other end of the world will there be.


Czeslaw Milosz
translated by Anthony Milosz



This particular Milosz piece brings to mind the rather humorous story of my fourth great-grandfather, Rev. Robert Goodloe Harper Hanna. "Harper" was one of the earliest clergy in Carroll County, Indiana. He belonged to a denomination known as the Primitive Methodists and preached the Millerite doctrine. If he believed this radical doctrine, personally, he certainly failed to impress the outside world with his sincerity.

Here's the account, according to the History of Carroll County, Indiana by Thomas Helms, Chicago: Kingman Brothers, 1882...

One morning in April, 1848, John Payton rode by Hanna's farm and saw him setting out an orchard. The inconsistency of his preceding at once struck Payton, who elected that a number of years must elapse, in any event, before he could expect any return of his labor, and if the final destruction of the world were so nearly at hand, was not his an unnecessary outlay of labor? 

With this in mind, Payton addressed him: 

"How is this, Brother Hanna? This is April, and if your account is correct, the end of the world will come in June next. It scarcely looks consistent to be doing such work so nearly the borders of eternity." 

"Oh well", replied Hanna, "we can't tell exactly; there may have been an error in the calculation."

my trusty '96 Land Rover at an abandoned farm
Dublin, Ohio
click to embiggen