Song of Myself
کانال: crazydogaudio
📄 متن شعر و رونوشت دکلمه
زیرنویس خودکار (EN)
i celebrate myself
and what i assume you shall assume for
every atom belonging to me
as good belongs to you i loaf and invite
my soul
i lean in loaf at my ease observing a
spear of summer grass
houses and rooms are full of perfumes
the shelves are crowded with perfumes
i breathe the fragrance myself and know
it and like it
the distillation would intoxicate me
also
but i shall not let it the atmosphere
is not a perfume it has no taste of the
distillation it is odorless
it is for my mouth forever i am in love
with it
i will go to the bank by the wood and
become undisguised and naked
i am mad for it to be in contact with me
the smoke of my own breath echoes
ripples and buzzed whispers
love root silk thread crotch and vine my
respiration and inspiration
the beating of my heart the passing of
blood and air through my lungs
the sniff of green leaves and dry leaves
and of the shore
and dark-colored sea rocks and of hay in
the barn
the sound of the belched words of my
voice
words loosed to the eddies of the wind a
few light kisses
a few embraces are reaching a round of
arms
the play of shine and shade on the trees
as the supple boughs wag
the delight alone or in the rush of the
streets or along the fields and
hillsides
the feeling of health the full moon
trill
the song of me rising from bed and
meeting the sun
have you reckoned a thousand acres much
have you reckoned the earth much have
you practiced so long to learn to read
have you felt so proud to get at the
meaning of poems
stop this day and night with me and you
shall possess the origin of
all poems you shall possess the good of
the earth and son
there are millions of sons left you
shall no longer take things at second or
third hand
nor look through the eyes of the dead
nor feed on the specters and books
you shall not look through my eyes
either nor take things from me
you shall listen to all sides and filter
them
from yourself i have heard what the
talkers were talking
the talk of the beginning and the end
but i do not talk of the beginning or
the end
there was never any more inception than
there is
now nor any more youth or age
than there is now and will never be any
more perfection
than there is now nor any more heaven or
hell
than there is now urge and urge and urge
always the procreate urge of the world
out of the dimness opposite equals
advance always substance and increase
always a knit of identity always
distinction
always a breed of life to elaborate
is no avail learned in unlearned feel
that it is so
sure is the most certain sure plum in
the uprights well entreated braced in
the beams
stout as a horse affectionate haughty
electrical eye
and this mystery here we stand
clear and sweet is my soul and clear and
sweet is all that is not my soul
like one lacks both and the unseen is
proved by the scene
till that becomes unseen and receives
proof in its turn
showing the best and dividing it from
the worst age
vex's age knowing the perfect fitness
and equanimity of things while they
discuss i am silent
and go bathe and admire myself
welcome as every organ and attribute of
me and of any man hearty and clean
not an inch nor a particle of an inch is
vile and none shall be less familiar
than the rest i'm satisfied
i see dance laugh sing as god
comes a loving bedfellow and sleeps at
my side all night
and clothes on the peep of the day and
leaves for me baskets covered with white
towels
bulging the house with their plenty
shall i postpone my acceptation and
realization and scream at my eyes
that they turn from gazing after and
down the road and forth with cipher and
show me to ascent
exactly the contents of one and exactly
the contents of two
and which is ahead trippers and askers
surround me
people i meet the effect upon me of my
early life
of the ward and city i live in of the
nation the latest news
discoveries inventions societies authors
old and new
my dinner dress associates looks
business compliments dues
the real or fancied indifference of some
man or woman i love
the sickness of one of my folks or of
myself
or ill doing or loss or lack of money or
depressions or exaltations
they come to me days and nights and go
for me again
but they are not the me myself
apart from the pulling and hauling
stands what i am
stands amused complacent compassionating
idle unitary looks down is erect bends
an arm on an impulpable
certain rest looks with side curved head
curious what will come next
both in and out of the game and watching
and wandering at it
backward i see in my own days where i
sweated through fog with
linguists and contenders i have no
mockings
or arguments i witness
and wait
i believe in you my soul the other i am
must
not abase itself to you and you must not
be a baste
to the other loaf 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 law i like the hum of your
velvet voice
i mind how we lay in june such a
transparent summer morning
you settled your head athwart my hips
and gently turned over upon me
and parted the shirt from my bosom bone
and plunged your tongue to my bare
stripped heart
and reached till you felt my beard
and reached till you held my feet
swiftly arose and spread around me the
peace and joy and knowledge that pass
all the art and argument of the earth
and i know that the hand of god
is the elder hand of my own and i know
that the spirit of god
is the eldest brother of my own and that
all the men
ever born are also my brothers and the
women my sisters and lovers
and that a kelson of the creation is
love and limitless
are leaves stiff or drooping in the
fields
and brown ants in the little wells
beneath them and mossy scabs of the worm
fence
and heaped stones and elder and mullen
and pokeweed
a child said what is the grass
fetching it to me with full hands how
could i answer the child
i do not know what it is any more than
he i guess it must be
the flag of my disposition out of
hopeful green stuff woven
or i guess it is the handkerchief of the
lord
a scented gift and remembrance are
designedly dropped
bearing the owner's name somewhere in
the corners that we may see
and remark and say whose
or i guess the grass is itself a child
the produced babe of the vegetation
or i guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic
and it means
sprouting a like in broad zones and
narrow zones growing among black folks
as among white
canuck tuckahoe congressman cuff i give
them the same i received them the same
and now it seems to me the beautiful
uncut hair
of graves tenderly i will 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
it may be you are from old people
and from women and from offspring taken
soon
out of their mother's laps and here
you are the mother's lamps
this grass is very dark to be from the
white heads of
old mothers darker than the colorless
beards of old men
dark to come from under the faint red
roofs of mounds
oh i perceive after all so many uttering
tongues
and i perceive they do not come from the
roofs of mouths for nothing
i wish i could translate the hints about
the dead young men and women
and the hints about old men and mothers
and the offspring
taken soon out of their laps
what do you think has become of the
young and old men
and what do you think has become of the
women and children
they are alive and well somewhere the
smallest
sprout shows there is really no death
and if ever there was it led forward
life
and does not wait at the end to arrest
it and ceased the moment life appeared
all goes onward and outward and nothing
collapses
and to die is different from what anyone
supposed
and luckier
has anyone supposed lucky to be born
i hasten to inform him or her it is just
as lucky to die
and i know it i pass death with the
dying
and birth with the new washed babe and
i'm not contained between my hat and
boots
and peru's manifold objects no two alike
and everyone
good the earth good and the stars good
and their adjuncts all good
i am not an earth nor an adjunct of an
earth
i am the mate and companion of people
all just as immortal and fathomless as
myself
they do not know how immortal but i know
every kind for itself and its own for me
mine male and female for me all that
have been boys and that love women
for me the man that is proud and feels
how it stings to be slighted
for me the sweetheart and the old maid
for me mothers
and the mothers of mothers for me lips
that have smiled eyes that have shed
tears
for me children and the begetters of
children
who need be afraid of the merge on drape
you are not guilty to me nor stale nor
discarded
i see through the broadcloth and gingham
whether or no
and i'm around tenacious acquisitive
tireless i can never be shaken away
i know i have the best of time and space
and that i was never measured and never
will be measured
i a perpetual journey
my signs are a rain proof coat good
shoes and a staff
cut from the woods no friend of mine
takes his ease in my chair
i have no chair nor church nor
philosophy
i lead no man to a dinner table or
library or exchange
but each man and each woman of you
i lead upon a knoll my left hand hooks
you round the waist
my right hand points to landscapes of
continents
and a plain public road not i
not anyone else can travel that road for
you
you must travel it for yourself it is
not far
it is within reach perhaps you have been
on it since you were born
and did not know perhaps it is
everywhere on water
and on land shoulder your duds
and i will mine and let us hasten forth
wonderful cities and free nations we
shall fetch as we go
if you tire give me both burdens and
rest the chuff of your hand
on my hip and in due time you shall
repay the same service to me
for after we start we never lie by
again this day before dawn
i ascended a hill and looked at the
crowded heaven and i said to my spirit
when we become the unfolders of those
orbs and the pleasure and knowledge of
everything in them
shall we be filled and satisfied then
and my spirit said
no we level that lift to pass
and continue beyond
you are asking me questions and i hear
you
i answer that i cannot answer you must
find out for yourself
sit a while wayfair here are biscuits to
eat and here is milk to drink
but as soon as you sleep and renew
yourself and sweet clothes
i will certainly kiss you with my
goodbye kiss and open the gate for your
eggress hence
long enough have you dreamed
contemptible dreams
now i wash the gum from your eyes you
must have it yourself to the dazzle of
the light and of
every moment of your life long have you
timidly waited
holding a plank by the shore now i will
you to be a bold swimmer
to jump off in the midst of the sea and
rise again and nod to me and shout
and laughingly dash with your hair
i am the teacher of athletes he that by
me
spreads a wider breast than my own
proves the width of my own
he most honors my style who learns under
it to destroy the teacher
the boy i love the same becomes a man
not through derived power
but in his own right wicked rather than
virtuous out of conformity or fear fond
of his sweetheart
relishing well his stake unrequited love
or a slight cutting him worse than a
wound cuts
first rate to ride to fight to hit the
bull's eye
to sail a skiff to sing a song or play
on the banjo
preferring scars and faces pitted with
smallpox
over all the latherers and those that
keep out of the sun
i teach straying from me
yet who can stray from me i follow you
whoever you are from the present hour
my words itch at your ears till you
understand them
i do not say these things for a dollar
or to fill up the time while i wait for
a boat
it is you talking just as much as myself
i act as the tongue of you it was tied
in your mouth
in mine it begins to be loosened
i swear i will never mention love or
death inside a house
and i swear i never will translate
myself at all
only to him or her who privately stays
with me
in the open air if you would understand
me go to the heights or watershore
the nearest gnat is an explanation and a
drop or the motion of waves a key
the maul the oar and the handsaw second
my words
no shuttered room or school can commune
with me but roughs and little children
better than they
the young mechanic is closest to me he
knows me pretty well
the woodsman that takes his axe and jug
with him shall take me with him all day
the farm boy plowing in the field feels
good at the sound of my voice
in vessels that sail my words must sail
i go with fishermen and semen and love
them
my face rubs to the hunter's face when
he lies down alone in his blanket
the driver thinking of me does not mind
the jolt of his wagon
the young mother and old mother shall
comprehend me
the girl and the wife rest the needle a
moment and forget where they are
they and all would resume what i have
told him
i have said that the soul is not more
than the body
and i have said that the body is not
more than the soul
and nothing not god is greater than
one's own
self is and whoever walks a furlong
without sympathy
walks to his own funeral dressed in his
shroud
and i or you pocketless of a dime may
purchase the pick of the earth
and to glance with an eye or show a
being in its pod confounds the learning
of all times
and there is no trade or employment but
the young man following it
may become a hero and there is no object
so
soft but it makes a hub for the wheeled
universe
and any man or woman shall stand cool
and supercilious before a million
universes
and i call to mankind be not curious
about god for i who i'm curious about
each am not
curious about god no array of terms can
say how much i am at peace about god
and about death i hear and behold god
in every object yet i understand god not
in the least
nor do i understand who there can be
more wonderful than myself
why should i wish to see god better than
this day
i see something of god in each hour of
the 24
and each moment then in the faces of men
and women i see god in my own face in
the glass
i find letters from god dropped in the
street and everyone is signed by god's
name
and i leave them where they are for i
know that others will punctually come
forever and ever
and as to you death you bitter hug of
mortality
it is idle to try to alarm me to his
work without flinching the accoutre
comes
i see the elder hand pressing receiving
supporting
i recline by the sills of the exquisite
flexible doors
and mark the outlet and mark the relief
and escape
and as to you corpse i think you're good
manure
but that does not offend me i smell the
white roses
sweet scented and growing i reach to the
leafy lips
i reach to the polished breasts of
melons
and as to you life i reckon you are the
leaving of many deaths
no doubt i have died myself ten thousand
times before
i hear you whispering there o stars of
heaven
o sons o grass of graves
or perpetual transfers and promotions
if you do not say anything how can i say
anything
of the turbid pool that lies in the
autumn forest
of the moon that descends the steeps of
the sow in twilight
toss sparkles of day and dusk
toss on the black stems that decay in
the muck
toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry
limbs
i ascend from the moon i ascend from the
night
and perceive of the ghastly glitter of
the sun beings reflected
and debauched to the steady and central
from the offspring great
or small there is that in
me i do not know what it is
but i know it is in me wretched and
sweaty
calm and cool than my body becomes i
sleep
i sleep long i do not know it
it is without name it is a word unsaid
it is not in any dictionary or utterance
or symbol
something it swings on more than the
earth i swing on
to it the creation is the friend whose
embracing awakes me
perhaps i might tell more
outlines i plead for my brothers and
sisters
do you see oh my brothers and sisters it
is not chaos or death
it is form and union and plan it is
eternal life
it is happiness
the past and present wilt i have filled
them and emptied them and proceeded to
fill my next fold of the future
listener up there hear you
what have you to confide in me look in
my face while i snuff the sidle of the
evening
talk honestly for no one else hears you
and i stay
only a minute longer do i contradict
myself
very well then i contradict myself i'm
large i contain multitudes
i concentrate toward them that are nigh
i wait on the door slab who has done his
day's work and will soon as to be
through with the supper
who wishes to walk with me
will you speak before i'm gone
will you prove already too late
the spotted hawk swoops by and accuses
me
he complains of my gab and my loitering
i too am not a bit tamed i too
am untranslatable i sound my barbaric
yap
over the rules of the world the last
scud of day holds back for me
it flings my likeness after the rest and
true as any on the shadowed wilds
it coaxes me to the vapor and the dust
i depart as air i shake my white locks
at the runaway sun
i affuse my flesh in eddies and drifted
in lacy jags
i bequeath myself to the dirt to grow
from the grass
i love if you want me again
look for me under your boot soles
you will hardly know who i am or what i
mean
but i shall be good health to you
nevertheless and filter
and fiber your blood failing to fetch me
at first
keep encouraged missing me one place
search another i stop somewhere
waiting for you
you
برای پرش به هر مصرع در ویدیو، روی زمان مربوطه کلیک کنید.
i celebrate myself
and what i assume you shall assume for
every atom belonging to me
as good belongs to you i loaf and invite
my soul
i lean in loaf at my ease observing a
spear of summer grass
houses and rooms are full of perfumes
the shelves are crowded with perfumes
i breathe the fragrance myself and know
it and like it
the distillation would intoxicate me
also
but i shall not let it the atmosphere
is not a perfume it has no taste of the
distillation it is odorless
it is for my mouth forever i am in love
with it
i will go to the bank by the wood and
become undisguised and naked
i am mad for it to be in contact with me
the smoke of my own breath echoes
ripples and buzzed whispers
love root silk thread crotch and vine my
respiration and inspiration
the beating of my heart the passing of
blood and air through my lungs
the sniff of green leaves and dry leaves
and of the shore
and dark-colored sea rocks and of hay in
the barn
the sound of the belched words of my
voice
words loosed to the eddies of the wind a
few light kisses
a few embraces are reaching a round of
arms
the play of shine and shade on the trees
as the supple boughs wag
the delight alone or in the rush of the
streets or along the fields and
hillsides
the feeling of health the full moon
trill
the song of me rising from bed and
meeting the sun
have you reckoned a thousand acres much
have you reckoned the earth much have
you practiced so long to learn to read
have you felt so proud to get at the
meaning of poems
stop this day and night with me and you
shall possess the origin of
all poems you shall possess the good of
the earth and son
there are millions of sons left you
shall no longer take things at second or
third hand
nor look through the eyes of the dead
nor feed on the specters and books
you shall not look through my eyes
either nor take things from me
you shall listen to all sides and filter
them
from yourself i have heard what the
talkers were talking
the talk of the beginning and the end
but i do not talk of the beginning or
the end
there was never any more inception than
there is
now nor any more youth or age
than there is now and will never be any
more perfection
than there is now nor any more heaven or
hell
than there is now urge and urge and urge
always the procreate urge of the world
out of the dimness opposite equals
advance always substance and increase
always a knit of identity always
distinction
always a breed of life to elaborate
is no avail learned in unlearned feel
that it is so
sure is the most certain sure plum in
the uprights well entreated braced in
the beams
stout as a horse affectionate haughty
electrical eye
and this mystery here we stand
clear and sweet is my soul and clear and
sweet is all that is not my soul
like one lacks both and the unseen is
proved by the scene
till that becomes unseen and receives
proof in its turn
showing the best and dividing it from
the worst age
vex's age knowing the perfect fitness
and equanimity of things while they
discuss i am silent
and go bathe and admire myself
welcome as every organ and attribute of
me and of any man hearty and clean
not an inch nor a particle of an inch is
vile and none shall be less familiar
than the rest i'm satisfied
i see dance laugh sing as god
comes a loving bedfellow and sleeps at
my side all night
and clothes on the peep of the day and
leaves for me baskets covered with white
towels
bulging the house with their plenty
shall i postpone my acceptation and
realization and scream at my eyes
that they turn from gazing after and
down the road and forth with cipher and
show me to ascent
exactly the contents of one and exactly
the contents of two
and which is ahead trippers and askers
surround me
people i meet the effect upon me of my
early life
of the ward and city i live in of the
nation the latest news
discoveries inventions societies authors
old and new
my dinner dress associates looks
business compliments dues
the real or fancied indifference of some
man or woman i love
the sickness of one of my folks or of
myself
or ill doing or loss or lack of money or
depressions or exaltations
they come to me days and nights and go
for me again
but they are not the me myself
apart from the pulling and hauling
stands what i am
stands amused complacent compassionating
idle unitary looks down is erect bends
an arm on an impulpable
certain rest looks with side curved head
curious what will come next
both in and out of the game and watching
and wandering at it
backward i see in my own days where i
sweated through fog with
linguists and contenders i have no
mockings
or arguments i witness
and wait
i believe in you my soul the other i am
must
not abase itself to you and you must not
be a baste
to the other loaf 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 law i like the hum of your
velvet voice
i mind how we lay in june such a
transparent summer morning
you settled your head athwart my hips
and gently turned over upon me
and parted the shirt from my bosom bone
and plunged your tongue to my bare
stripped heart
and reached till you felt my beard
and reached till you held my feet
swiftly arose and spread around me the
peace and joy and knowledge that pass
all the art and argument of the earth
and i know that the hand of god
is the elder hand of my own and i know
that the spirit of god
is the eldest brother of my own and that
all the men
ever born are also my brothers and the
women my sisters and lovers
and that a kelson of the creation is
love and limitless
are leaves stiff or drooping in the
fields
and brown ants in the little wells
beneath them and mossy scabs of the worm
fence
and heaped stones and elder and mullen
and pokeweed
a child said what is the grass
fetching it to me with full hands how
could i answer the child
i do not know what it is any more than
he i guess it must be
the flag of my disposition out of
hopeful green stuff woven
or i guess it is the handkerchief of the
lord
a scented gift and remembrance are
designedly dropped
bearing the owner's name somewhere in
the corners that we may see
and remark and say whose
or i guess the grass is itself a child
the produced babe of the vegetation
or i guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic
and it means
sprouting a like in broad zones and
narrow zones growing among black folks
as among white
canuck tuckahoe congressman cuff i give
them the same i received them the same
and now it seems to me the beautiful
uncut hair
of graves tenderly i will 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
it may be you are from old people
and from women and from offspring taken
soon
out of their mother's laps and here
you are the mother's lamps
this grass is very dark to be from the
white heads of
old mothers darker than the colorless
beards of old men
dark to come from under the faint red
roofs of mounds
oh i perceive after all so many uttering
tongues
and i perceive they do not come from the
roofs of mouths for nothing
i wish i could translate the hints about
the dead young men and women
and the hints about old men and mothers
and the offspring
taken soon out of their laps
what do you think has become of the
young and old men
and what do you think has become of the
women and children
they are alive and well somewhere the
smallest
sprout shows there is really no death
and if ever there was it led forward
life
and does not wait at the end to arrest
it and ceased the moment life appeared
all goes onward and outward and nothing
collapses
and to die is different from what anyone
supposed
and luckier
has anyone supposed lucky to be born
i hasten to inform him or her it is just
as lucky to die
and i know it i pass death with the
dying
and birth with the new washed babe and
i'm not contained between my hat and
boots
and peru's manifold objects no two alike
and everyone
good the earth good and the stars good
and their adjuncts all good
i am not an earth nor an adjunct of an
earth
i am the mate and companion of people
all just as immortal and fathomless as
myself
they do not know how immortal but i know
every kind for itself and its own for me
mine male and female for me all that
have been boys and that love women
for me the man that is proud and feels
how it stings to be slighted
for me the sweetheart and the old maid
for me mothers
and the mothers of mothers for me lips
that have smiled eyes that have shed
tears
for me children and the begetters of
children
who need be afraid of the merge on drape
you are not guilty to me nor stale nor
discarded
i see through the broadcloth and gingham
whether or no
and i'm around tenacious acquisitive
tireless i can never be shaken away
i know i have the best of time and space
and that i was never measured and never
will be measured
i a perpetual journey
my signs are a rain proof coat good
shoes and a staff
cut from the woods no friend of mine
takes his ease in my chair
i have no chair nor church nor
philosophy
i lead no man to a dinner table or
library or exchange
but each man and each woman of you
i lead upon a knoll my left hand hooks
you round the waist
my right hand points to landscapes of
continents
and a plain public road not i
not anyone else can travel that road for
you
you must travel it for yourself it is
not far
it is within reach perhaps you have been
on it since you were born
and did not know perhaps it is
everywhere on water
and on land shoulder your duds
and i will mine and let us hasten forth
wonderful cities and free nations we
shall fetch as we go
if you tire give me both burdens and
rest the chuff of your hand
on my hip and in due time you shall
repay the same service to me
for after we start we never lie by
again this day before dawn
i ascended a hill and looked at the
crowded heaven and i said to my spirit
when we become the unfolders of those
orbs and the pleasure and knowledge of
everything in them
shall we be filled and satisfied then
and my spirit said
no we level that lift to pass
and continue beyond
you are asking me questions and i hear
you
i answer that i cannot answer you must
find out for yourself
sit a while wayfair here are biscuits to
eat and here is milk to drink
but as soon as you sleep and renew
yourself and sweet clothes
i will certainly kiss you with my
goodbye kiss and open the gate for your
eggress hence
long enough have you dreamed
contemptible dreams
now i wash the gum from your eyes you
must have it yourself to the dazzle of
the light and of
every moment of your life long have you
timidly waited
holding a plank by the shore now i will
you to be a bold swimmer
to jump off in the midst of the sea and
rise again and nod to me and shout
and laughingly dash with your hair
i am the teacher of athletes he that by
me
spreads a wider breast than my own
proves the width of my own
he most honors my style who learns under
it to destroy the teacher
the boy i love the same becomes a man
not through derived power
but in his own right wicked rather than
virtuous out of conformity or fear fond
of his sweetheart
relishing well his stake unrequited love
or a slight cutting him worse than a
wound cuts
first rate to ride to fight to hit the
bull's eye
to sail a skiff to sing a song or play
on the banjo
preferring scars and faces pitted with
smallpox
over all the latherers and those that
keep out of the sun
i teach straying from me
yet who can stray from me i follow you
whoever you are from the present hour
my words itch at your ears till you
understand them
i do not say these things for a dollar
or to fill up the time while i wait for
a boat
it is you talking just as much as myself
i act as the tongue of you it was tied
in your mouth
in mine it begins to be loosened
i swear i will never mention love or
death inside a house
and i swear i never will translate
myself at all
only to him or her who privately stays
with me
in the open air if you would understand
me go to the heights or watershore
the nearest gnat is an explanation and a
drop or the motion of waves a key
the maul the oar and the handsaw second
my words
no shuttered room or school can commune
with me but roughs and little children
better than they
the young mechanic is closest to me he
knows me pretty well
the woodsman that takes his axe and jug
with him shall take me with him all day
the farm boy plowing in the field feels
good at the sound of my voice
in vessels that sail my words must sail
i go with fishermen and semen and love
them
my face rubs to the hunter's face when
he lies down alone in his blanket
the driver thinking of me does not mind
the jolt of his wagon
the young mother and old mother shall
comprehend me
the girl and the wife rest the needle a
moment and forget where they are
they and all would resume what i have
told him
i have said that the soul is not more
than the body
and i have said that the body is not
more than the soul
and nothing not god is greater than
one's own
self is and whoever walks a furlong
without sympathy
walks to his own funeral dressed in his
shroud
and i or you pocketless of a dime may
purchase the pick of the earth
and to glance with an eye or show a
being in its pod confounds the learning
of all times
and there is no trade or employment but
the young man following it
may become a hero and there is no object
so
soft but it makes a hub for the wheeled
universe
and any man or woman shall stand cool
and supercilious before a million
universes
and i call to mankind be not curious
about god for i who i'm curious about
each am not
curious about god no array of terms can
say how much i am at peace about god
and about death i hear and behold god
in every object yet i understand god not
in the least
nor do i understand who there can be
more wonderful than myself
why should i wish to see god better than
this day
i see something of god in each hour of
the 24
and each moment then in the faces of men
and women i see god in my own face in
the glass
i find letters from god dropped in the
street and everyone is signed by god's
name
and i leave them where they are for i
know that others will punctually come
forever and ever
and as to you death you bitter hug of
mortality
it is idle to try to alarm me to his
work without flinching the accoutre
comes
i see the elder hand pressing receiving
supporting
i recline by the sills of the exquisite
flexible doors
and mark the outlet and mark the relief
and escape
and as to you corpse i think you're good
manure
but that does not offend me i smell the
white roses
sweet scented and growing i reach to the
leafy lips
i reach to the polished breasts of
melons
and as to you life i reckon you are the
leaving of many deaths
no doubt i have died myself ten thousand
times before
i hear you whispering there o stars of
heaven
o sons o grass of graves
or perpetual transfers and promotions
if you do not say anything how can i say
anything
of the turbid pool that lies in the
autumn forest
of the moon that descends the steeps of
the sow in twilight
toss sparkles of day and dusk
toss on the black stems that decay in
the muck
toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry
limbs
i ascend from the moon i ascend from the
night
and perceive of the ghastly glitter of
the sun beings reflected
and debauched to the steady and central
from the offspring great
or small there is that in
me i do not know what it is
but i know it is in me wretched and
sweaty
calm and cool than my body becomes i
sleep
i sleep long i do not know it
it is without name it is a word unsaid
it is not in any dictionary or utterance
or symbol
something it swings on more than the
earth i swing on
to it the creation is the friend whose
embracing awakes me
perhaps i might tell more
outlines i plead for my brothers and
sisters
do you see oh my brothers and sisters it
is not chaos or death
it is form and union and plan it is
eternal life
it is happiness
the past and present wilt i have filled
them and emptied them and proceeded to
fill my next fold of the future
listener up there hear you
what have you to confide in me look in
my face while i snuff the sidle of the
evening
talk honestly for no one else hears you
and i stay
only a minute longer do i contradict
myself
very well then i contradict myself i'm
large i contain multitudes
i concentrate toward them that are nigh
i wait on the door slab who has done his
day's work and will soon as to be
through with the supper
who wishes to walk with me
will you speak before i'm gone
will you prove already too late
the spotted hawk swoops by and accuses
me
he complains of my gab and my loitering
i too am not a bit tamed i too
am untranslatable i sound my barbaric
yap
over the rules of the world the last
scud of day holds back for me
it flings my likeness after the rest and
true as any on the shadowed wilds
it coaxes me to the vapor and the dust
i depart as air i shake my white locks
at the runaway sun
i affuse my flesh in eddies and drifted
in lacy jags
i bequeath myself to the dirt to grow
from the grass
i love if you want me again
look for me under your boot soles
you will hardly know who i am or what i
mean
but i shall be good health to you
nevertheless and filter
and fiber your blood failing to fetch me
at first
keep encouraged missing me one place
search another i stop somewhere
waiting for you
you
📖 توضیحات ویدیو و زمینه ادبی
Song of Myself - Walt Whitman. His first, 1855 edition. Opening: sections 1 through 7. Closing: sections 46 to 52. Read by award-winning voice artist Roger Gregg. Sound-scapes and music by Roger Gregg. Dry Read version here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMeZfB9EwYk&t=454s I have been reading the 1955 'Song of Myself' out loud every year since 1976 after seeing a film with Rip Torn playing Whitman called 'Song of Myself' and was enraptured. I recorded this as a personal homage while in Covid-19 Lock Down.
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