The Waste Land
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding | |
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing | |
Memory and desire, stirring | |
Dull roots with spring rain. | |
Winter kept us warm, covering | 5 |
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding | |
A little life with dried tubers. | |
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee | |
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, | |
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, | 10 |
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. | |
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. | |
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, | |
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, | |
And I was frightened. He said, Marie, | 15 |
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 the winter. | |
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ReplyDeleteSorry, I messed up my first comment...
ReplyDeleteI like that but you'll probably think me even more a philistine than you already do if I tell you that I never really appreciated Eliot all that much...
So I won't tell you that!
it's probably b/c he has these massively long poems and they're in forty different languages (what is it in this section? German, Latin, Greek, and Italian?).
ReplyDeletedon't worry, there's more where that came from...
1 - yes
ReplyDelete2 - im sure