At A Certain Age

We wanted to confess our sins but there were no takers.
White clouds refused to accept them, and the wind
Was too busy visiting sea after sea.
We did not succeed in interesting the animals.
Dogs, disappointed, expected an order,
A cat, as always immoral, was falling asleep.
A person seemingly very close
Did not care to hear of things long past.
Conversations with friends over vodka or coffee
Ought not be prolonged beyond the first sign of boredom.
It would be humiliating to pay by the hour
A man with a diploma, just for listening.
Churches. Perhaps churches. But to confess there what?
That we used to see ourselves as handsome and noble
Yet later in our place an ugly toad
Half-opens its thick eyelid
And one sees clearly: "That's me."

by Czeslaw Milosz

Comments (4)

This specific poem was written with either a tragic or ironic writing style. please leave a comment of what you think it is.
This defines life, especially as a young teen. No one will listen, and then... Viola! you have turned into a lazy toad.
And the ugly toad turns into the prince. Humor is the best weapon against growing old. It was wonderful that he had it and could look at himself with recognition .. and surprise!
The frog prince turns into the toad.