This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe.
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!
6 A child said What is the grass?
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out.See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that, Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that.43 I do not despise you priests, all time, the world over, My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths, Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern, Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five.46 I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured and never will be measured.The clock indicates the moment-but what does eternity indicate?We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water, On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire, killing all around and blowing up overhead.I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from.Becoming already a creator, vilka är online gambling kenya Putting myself here and now to the ambush'd womb of the shadows.
Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand.Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.Hankering, gross, mystical, nude; How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music-this suits.Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified?That I could forget the mockers and insults!The soldier camp'd or upon the march is mine, On the night ere the pending battle many seek me, and I do not fail them, On that solemn night (it may be their last) those that know me seek.None obey'd the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight, A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead lay together, The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers.What have you to confide to me?