So wrote T.S. Eliot in his most famous poem, The Waste Land. Of course, reading The Waste Land is pretty cruel in and of itself. There are so many allusions, obscure references, and languages, which make trying to decipher it a challenge to say the least.
At any rate, I reproduce it below. I also found an audio recording of the poem which helps for comprehension. Listening to it makes certain images come alive in a way that reading the text alone cannot. T.S. Eliot narrates the first part.
I posted this poem for a less sophisticated reason though. Just last week, it was sunny and nice and I was able to take a very nice walk with the dogs around Boulevard. Today, it is snowing, windy, damp and cold. The forecast is for 6 degrees Celsius tomorrow; promises of spring yet winter winds cleave.
In some ways, this can be an allegory for transformation.
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
At any rate, I reproduce it below. I also found an audio recording of the poem which helps for comprehension. Listening to it makes certain images come alive in a way that reading the text alone cannot. T.S. Eliot narrates the first part.
I posted this poem for a less sophisticated reason though. Just last week, it was sunny and nice and I was able to take a very nice walk with the dogs around Boulevard. Today, it is snowing, windy, damp and cold. The forecast is for 6 degrees Celsius tomorrow; promises of spring yet winter winds cleave.
In some ways, this can be an allegory for transformation.
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
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