News at Eleven: [Zbigniew Herbert] poems are political,

but only indirectly so. There are no place names, no naming of tragic events or villains. There is only a nearly constant call to compassion:

in order to revive the dead
and maintain the covenant

Mr Cogito’s imagination
moves like a pendulum

it runs with great precision
from suffering to suffering

from The Brooklyn Rail: Poetry: Mister I Think

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