1. |
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You must go on.
I can’t go on.
You must go on.
I’ll go on.
I don’t know
You must go on, that’s all I know.
I don’t know:
perhaps it’s all a dream.
(That would surprise me.)
You must go on.
I can’t go on.
You must go on.
I’ll go on.
Or dream (dream again),
dream of a silence,
full of murmurs (I don’t know, that’s all words),
never wake (all words, there’s nothing else).
You must go on, that’s all I know.
They’re going to stop,
I know that well: I can feel it.
They’re going to abandon me.
It will be the silence, for a moment (a good few moments).
Or it will be mine?
The lasting one, that didn’t last
I can't go on. I'll go on
You must go on, that’s all I know.
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2. |
Neutral And Alert
01:41
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I have that feeling,
I have had it now for some days,
and I credit it.
But in what does it differ
from those that have abused me
ever since I was born?
No, that is the kind of bait
I do not rise to any more,
my need for prettiness is gone.
I could die today, if I wished,
merely by making a little effort.
But it is just as well to let myself die, quietly,
without rushing things.
I have that feeling,
I have had it now for some days
Something must have changed.
I will not weigh upon the balance any more,
one way or the other.
I shall be neutral and inert.
No difficulty there.
I have that feeling,
I have had it now for some days
I shall be neutral and inert.
No difficulty there.
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3. |
Sad Helpless Love
02:42
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And this way I have gone through great thickets
Bleeding
And deep into bogs
Water too
Even the sea in some moods
And been carried out of my course
Or driven back
So as not to drown
Sad, helpless love
Sad, helpless love
And that is perhaps how I shall die at last
If they don't catch me
I mean drowned or on fire
Sad, helpless love
Sad, helpless love
Yes
Perhaps that is how I shall do it at last
Walking furious headlong into fire
And dying burnt to bits
Then I raised my eyes and saw my mother
Still in the window waving
Waving me back
Or on - I don't know
Or just waving in
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4. |
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I shall soon be quite dead at last
in spite of all.
Perhaps next month.
Then it will be the month of April
or of May.
For the year is still young,
I shall soon be quite dead at last
a thousand little signs tell me so.
Perhaps I am wrong,
perhaps I shall survive Saint John the Baptist’s Day
and even the Fourteenth of July,
festival of freedom.
Indeed I would not put it past me
to pant on to the Transfiguration,
not to speak of the Assumption.
But I do not think so,
I do not think I am wrong in saying
that these rejoicings will
take place in my absence, this year.
I shall soon be quite dead at last
in spite of all.
Perhaps next month.
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5. |
A Ton Of Worms
02:20
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Oh, I know
I too shall cease
and be as when I was not yet,
only all over instead of in store.
That makes me happy,
often now my murmur falters and dies
and I weep for happiness
Oh,I know
I too shall cease
and be as when I was not yet,
Just under the surface I shall be,
all together at first,
then separate, and drift through all the earth
and perhaps in the end through a cliff
into the sea, something of me.
A ton of worms in an acre,
that is a wonderful thought,
a ton of worms, I believe it.
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6. |
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Ach the poor old lousy old earth,
my earth and my father's and my mother's
and my father's father's
and my mother's mother's
and my father's mother's
and my mother's father's
and my father's mother's father's
and my mother's father's mother's
and my father's mother's mother's
and my mother's father's' father's
and my father's father's mother's
and my mother's mother's father's
and my father's father's father's
and my mother's mother's mother's
and other people's fathers' and mothers'
An excrement.
The crocuses and larch turning green every year
a week before the others and the pastures red
with uneaten sheep's placentas
and the long summer days
and the newmown hay
and the wood-pigeon in the morning
and the cuckoo in the afternoon
and the corncrake in the evening
and the wasps in the jam
and the smell of the gorse
and the look of the gorse
and the apples falling
and the children walking in the dead leaves
and the larch turning brown
a week before the others
and the chestnuts falling
and the howling winds
and the sea breaking over the pier
and the first fires and the hooves on the road
and the consumptive postman whistling
The Roses Are Blooming in Picardy
and the standard oillamp
and of course the snow
and to be sure the sleet
and bless your heart the slush
and every fourth year the February débâcle
and the endless April showers
and the crocuses
and then the whole bloody business
starting all over again.
A turd.
And if I could begin it all over again,
knowing what I know now,
the result would be the same.
And if I could begin again a third time,
knowing what I would know then,
the result would be the same.
And if I could begin it all over again a hundred times,
knowing each time a little more than the time before,
the result would always be the same,
and the hundredth life as the first,
and the hundred lives as one.
A cat’s flux.
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7. |
White Horse
02:26
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Well then for a time all well,
no trouble, no birds at me,
nothing across my path
except at a great distance
a white horse
followed by a boy,
or it might have been a small man or woman.
This is the only completely white horse I remember,
what I believe the Germans call a Schimmel,
oh I was very quick as a boy
and picked up a lot of hard knowledge,
Schimmel, nice word, for an English speaker.
The sun was full upon it,
as shortly before on my mother,
and it seemed to have a red band
or stripe running down its side,
I thought perhaps a bellyband,
It crossed my path a long way off,
then vanished behind greenery, I suppose,
all I noticed was the sudden appearance of the horse,
then disappearance.
White I must say has always affected me strongly,
all white things,
even flowers, and then just white,
the thought of white, without more.
But let me get on with this day and get it over.
All well then for a time
Just the violence and then this white horse
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8. |
No Accounting For It
02:41
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When suddenly I flew into a most savage rage
Really blinding
Now why the sudden rage I really don't know
These sudden rages
Made my life a misery
Like other things
My sore throat for example
I've never known what it is
To be without a sore throat
Oh, there's no accounting for it
There's no accounting for anything
The rages were the worst
Like a great wind
Suddenly rising in sight now
I can't describe
It wasn't the violence getting worse
In any case
Nothing to do with that
Some days I would be feeling violent all day
Never have a rage
Other days quite quiet for me
Will have four or five
Oh, there's no accounting for it
There's no accounting for anything
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9. |
Stories
03:04
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I usen't to need anyone,
just to myself,
stories,
Stories, stories, years and years of stories,
till the need came on me, for someone,
to be with me,
anyone,
a stranger,
to talk to,
imagine he hears me,
years of that,
and then, now,
Stories, stories, years and years of stories,
till the need came on me, for someone,
Stories, stories, years and years of stories,
till the need came on me, for someone,
Stories
to be with me,
for someone who knew me,
in the old days,
anyone,
to be with me,
Stories, stories, years and years of stories,
till the need came on me, for someone,
Stories, stories, years and years of stories,
till the need came on me, for someone,
imagine he hears me,
what I am, now.
No good either.
Not there either.
Try again.
White world, not a sound.
Stories, stories, years and years of stories
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10. |
No Tenacity
01:37
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And all small because of the distance
Very pretty really
The whole thing
I remember it
The old grey
And then the thin green surround
And the thin white against the dark
If only she could have been still
And let me look at it all
No
For once I wanted to stand and look at something I couldn't
With her there waving and fluttering
And swaying in and out in the window
As if she were doing exercises
And for all I know, she may have been
Not bothering about me at all
No tenacity or purpose
That was another thing I didn't like in her
One week it would be exercises
And the next, prayers and bible reading
And the next gardening
And the next playing the piano
And singing - that was awful
And then just lying about
And resting
Always changing
Not that it mattered to me
I was always out
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11. |
Tepid
02:54
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Throes are the only trouble.
I must be on my guard against throes.
But I am less given to them now, since coming here.
Of course I still have my little fits of impatience,
from time to time, I must be on my guard against them,
for the next fortnight or three weeks.
Without exaggeration
to be sure, quietly crying and laughing,
without working myself
up into a state.
Yes I shall be natural at last,
I shall suffer more, then less,
without drawing any conclusions,
I shall pay less heed to myself,
I shall be neither hot nor cold any more,
I shall be tepid,
I shall die tepid,
without enthusiasm.
I shall not watch myself die,
that would spoil everything.
Have I watched myself live?
Have I ever complained?
Then why rejoice now?
I am content, necessarily,
but not to the point of clapping my hands.
I am satisfied,
there, I have enough,
I am repaid, I need nothing more.
I shall be tepid,
I shall die tepid
Let me say before I go any further
that I forgive nobody.
I wish them all an atrocious life
in the fires and ice of hell
and in the execrable generations to come
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12. |
Simply On My Way
04:01
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Up bright and early that day,
I was young then,
feeling awful,
and out,
mother hanging out of the window
in her nightdress
weeping and waving.
Nice fresh morning,
bright too early as so often.
Feeling really awful,
Very violent.
The sky would soon darken and rain fall
and go on falling, all day,
till evening.
Then blue and sun again a second,
then night
Feeling all this,
how violent
and the kind of day, I stopped and turned.
So back with bowed head
on the look out for a snail, slug or worm.
Great love in my heart too
for all things still and rooted,
bushes, boulders and the like,
too numerous to mention,
even the flowers in the field,
not for the world when in my right senses
would I ever touch one,
to pluck it.
Whereas a bird now or a butterfly
Fluttering about and getting in my way
All moving things getting in my path
A slug now getting under my feet
No, no mercy
Not that I go out of my way to get at them, no
At a distance often they seem still
And then a moment later
They were upon me
Birds!
With my piercing sight I have seen flying so high,
so far that they seem at rest
And the next minute they were all about me
Crows have done this
Ducks are perhaps the worst
To be suddenly stamping and stumbling
In the midst of ducks
Or hens - any class of poultry
Few things are worse
Nor would I go out of my way to avoid such things when avoidable
No
I simply will not go out of my way
Though I have never in me life been on my way anywhere
But simply on my way
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13. |
All Over
01:55
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The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
Perhaps I could go on with my story,
all over and done with
Perhaps I could throw myself out on the floor.
Dig my nails into the cracks
and drag myself forward with my fingers.
It will be the end and there I'll be,
wondering what can have...
all over and done with.
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