quarta-feira, 6 de dezembro de 2023

''The unknown, strong current of life supreme / drowns me and sweeps me away and holds me down''

 


New Heaven And Earth

                     I

    And so I cross into another world
    shyly and in homage linger for an invitation
    from this unknown that I would trespass on.

    I am very glad, and all alone in the world,
    all alone, and very glad, in a new world
    where I am disembarked at last.

    I could cry with joy, because I am in the new world, just ventured in.
    I could cry with joy, and quite freely, there is nobody to know.

    And whosoever the unknown people of this un- known world may be
    they will never understand my weeping for joy to be adventuring among them
    because it will still be a gesture of the old world I am making
    which they will not understand, because it is quite, quite foreign to them.

                     II

    I WAS so weary of the world
    I was so sick of it
    everything was tainted with myself,
    skies, trees, flowers, birds, water,
    people, houses, streets, vehicles, machines,
    nations, armies, war, peace-talking,
    work, recreation, governing, anarchy,
    it was all tainted with myself, I knew it all to start with
    because it was all myself.

    When I gathered flowers, I knew it was myself plucking my own flowering.
    When I went in a train, I knew it was myself travelling by my own invention.
    When I heard the cannon of the war, I listened with my own ears to my own destruction.
    When I saw the torn dead, I knew it was my own torn dead body.
    It was all me, I had done it all in my own flesh.

                     III

    I SHALL never forget the maniacal horror of it all in the end
    when everything was me, I knew it all already, I anticipated it all in my soul
    because I was the author and the result
    I was the God and the creation at once;
    creator, I looked at my creation;
    created, I looked at myself, the creator:
    it was a maniacal horror in the end.

    I was a lover, I kissed the woman I loved,
    and God of horror, I was kissing also myself.
    I was a father and a begetter of children,
    and oh, oh horror, I was begetting and conceiving in my own body.

                     IV

    AT last came death, sufficiency of death,
    and that at last relieved me, I died.
    I buried my beloved; it was good, I buried myself and was gone.
    War came, and every hand raised to murder;
    very good, very good, every hand raised to murder!
    Very good, very good, I am a murderer!
    It is good, I can murder and murder, and see them fall
    the mutilated, horror-struck youths, a multitude
    one on another, and then in clusters together
    smashed, all oozing with blood, and burned in heaps
    going up in a foetid smoke to get rid of them
    the murdered bodies of youths and men in heaps
    and heaps and heaps and horrible reeking heaps
    till it is almost enough, till I am reduced perhaps;
    thousands and thousands of gaping, hideous foul dead
    that are youths and men and me
    being burned with oil, and consumed in corrupt thick smoke, that rolls
    and taints and blackens the sky, till at last it is dark, dark as night, or death, or hell
    and I am dead, and trodden to nought in the smoke-sodden tomb;
    dead and trodden to nought in the sour black earth
    of the tomb; dead and trodden to nought, trodden to nought.

                     V

    GOD, but it is good to have died and been trodden out
    trodden to nought in sour, dead earth
    quite to nought
    absolutely to nothing
    nothing
    nothing
    nothing.

    For when it is quite, quite nothing, then it is everything.
    When I am trodden quite out, quite, quite out
    every vestige gone, then I am here
    risen, and setting my foot on another world
    risen, accomplishing a resurrection
    risen, not born again, but risen, body the same as before,
    new beyond knowledge of newness, alive beyond life
    proud beyond inkling or furthest conception of pride
    living where life was never yet dreamed of, nor hinted at
    here, in the other world, still terrestrial
    myself, the same as before, yet unaccountably new.

                     VI

    I, IN the sour black tomb, trodden to absolute death
    I put out my hand in the night, one night, and my hand
    touched that which was verily not me
    verily it was not me.
    Where I had been was a sudden blaze
    a sudden flaring blaze!
    So I put my hand out further, a little further
    and I felt that which was not I,
    it verily was not I
    it was the unknown.

    Ha, I was a blaze leaping up!
    I was a tiger bursting into sunlight.
    I was greedy, I was mad for the unknown.
    I, new-risen, resurrected, starved from the tomb
    starved from a life of devouring always myself
    now here was I, new-awakened, with my hand stretching out
    and touching the unknown, the real unknown, the unknown unknown.

    My God, but I can only say
    I touch, I feel the unknown!
    I am the first comer!
    Cortes, Pisarro, Columbus, Cabot, they are noth-
     ing, nothing!
    I am the first comer!
    I am the discoverer!
    I have found the other world!

    The unknown, the unknown!
    I am thrown upon the shore.
    I am covering myself with the sand.
    I am filling my mouth with the earth.
    I am burrowing my body into the soil.
    The unknown, the new world!

                     VII

    IT was the flank of my wife
    I touched with my hand, I clutched with my hand
    rising, new-awakened from the tomb!
    It was the flank of my wife
    whom I married years ago
    at whose side I have lain for over a thousand nights
    and all that previous while, she was I, she was I;
    I touched her, it was I who touched and I who was touched.

    Yet rising from the tomb, from the black oblivion
    stretching out my hand, my hand flung like a drowned man's hand on a rock,
    I touched her flank and knew I was carried by the current in death
    over to the new world, and was climbing out on the shore,
    risen, not to the old world, the old, changeless I, the old life,
    wakened not to the old knowledge
    but to a new earth, a new I, a new knowledge, a new world of time.

    Ah no, I cannot tell you what it is, the new world
    I cannot tell you the mad, astounded rapture of its discovery.
    I shall be mad with delight before I have done,
    and whosoever comes after will find me in the new world
    a madman in rapture.

                     VIII

    GREEN streams that flow from the innermost continent of the new world,
    what are they?
    Green and illumined and travelling for ever
    dissolved with the mystery of the innermost heart of the continent
    mystery beyond knowledge or endurance, so sumptuous
    out of the well-heads of the new world. - 
    The other, she too has strange green eyes!
    White sands and fruits unknown and perfumes that never
    can blow across the dark seas to our usual world!
    And land that beats with a pulse!
    And valleys that draw close in love!
    And strange ways where I fall into oblivion of uttermost living! - 
    Also she who is the other has strange-mounded breasts and strange sheer slopes, and white levels.

    Sightless and strong oblivion in utter life takes possession of me!
    The unknown, strong current of life supreme
    drowns me and sweeps me away and holds me down
    to the sources of mystery, in the depths,
    extinguishes there my risen resurrected life
    and kindles it further at the core of utter mystery. 

Sem comentários:

Enviar um comentário