The Waste Land

من طرف **إبن البلد** الأربعاء نوفمبر 03, 2010 6:07 am

The Waste Land

by T.S. EliotThe first poem
I. The Burial of the Dead

APRIL is the cruelest month, breedingLilacs out of the dead land, mixingMemory and desire, stirringDull roots with spring rain.Winter kept us warm, coveringEarth in forgetful snow, feedingA little life with dried tubers.Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee* [A lake near Munich]With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnadeAnd went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten*, [A park in Munich]And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.* ['I am not Russian at all, I amAnd when we were children, staying at the arch-duke's, a German from Lithuania']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 winter.What are the roots that clutch, what branches growOut of this stony rubbish? Son of man,You cannot say, or guess, for you know onlyA heap of broken images, where the sun beats,And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,And the dry stone no sound of water. OnlyThere is shadow under this red rock(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),And I will show you something different from eitherYour shadow at morning striding behind youOr your shadow at evening rising to meet you;I will show you fear in a handful of dust.Frisch weht der Wind* ['fresh blows the wind to the homeland']
Der heimat zu
Mein Irisch kind,* ['my Irish child, where do you linger?']
Wo weilest du?
"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;""They called me the hyacinth girl."--Yet when we came back, late, from the hyacinth garden,Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing,Looking into the heart of light, the silence.Oed' und leer das Meer. ['waste and empty is the sea']Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,Has a bad cold, neverthelessIs known to be the wisest woman in Europe,With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor.(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,The lady of situations.Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,Which is blank, is something that he carries on his back,Which I am forbidden to see. I do not findThe Hanged Man. Fear death by water.I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,Tell her I bring the horoscope myself;One must be so careful these days.Unreal CityUnder the brown fog of a winter dawn,A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,I had not thought death had undone so many.Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,And each man fixed his eyes before his feet,Flowed up the hill and down King William StreetTo where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hoursWith a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying, "Stetson!You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!That corpse you planted last year in your garden,Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!You! hypocrite lecteur!--mon semblable!--mon fr�re!"

من طرف **Admin** الأربعاء نوفمبر 03, 2010 6:12 am

may Allah bless u

من طرف **إبن البلد** الأربعاء نوفمبر 03, 2010 6:53 am

Admin كتب:may Allah bless u

U 2

من طرف **Admin** الأربعاء نوفمبر 03, 2010 7:43 am

that's of ur kindness

من طرف victor simoes الإثنين يناير 17, 2011 7:58 am

thanks

من طرف **سعد الدهيمي** الجمعة فبراير 25, 2011 1:10 am

شكرااااااااااااااا ابو محمد

من طرف **Master** الأحد مارس 27, 2011 3:34 am

welcome

The Waste Land

The Waste Land

رد: The Waste Land

رد: The Waste Land

رد: The Waste Land

رد: The Waste Land

رد: The Waste Land

رد: The Waste Land