Samuel BeckettPOEMS1930-1989

1930-1989

2010

CONTENTS

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WhoroscopeFor Future ReferenceReturn to the VestryCasket of Pralinen for a Daughter of a Dissipated MandarinTextHell Crane to StarlingSonnet (At last I find...)Calvary by NightFrom the Only Poet to a Shining WhoreYoke of LibertyHome OlgaGnomeCascandoOoftishDieppe

ECHO'S BONES

The VultureEnueg IEnueg IIAlbaDortmunderSanies ISanies IISerena ISerena IISerena IIIMalacoda

19301939

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I II

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122 Da Tagte Es124 Echo's Bones

126 elles viennent... 128 elle l'acte calme...130 tre l sans mchoires sans dents...132 Ascension134 La Mouche136 musique de l'indiffrence...138 bois seul...140 ainsi a-t-on beau...142 Rue de Vaugirard144 Arnes de Lutce148 jusque dans la caverne ciel et sol...

19451949

150 Saint-L152 Antipepsis154 bon bon il est un pays...156 Mort de A.D.15 8 vive morte ma seule saison... 160 je suis ce cours de sable qui glisse...162 que ferais-je sans ce monde...164 je voudrais que mon amour meure...

1953

166 Tailpiece

19621964

168 Song

170 The Downs

19741979

176 Pome 1974

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19621964

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19741979

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178 Something there182 dread nay188 Roundelay190 Thither

MIRLITONNADES

192 en face...192 rentrer...192 somme toute...194 fin fond du nant...194 silence tel que ce qui fut...194 coute-les...196 lueurs lisires...196 imagine si ceci...198 d'abord...198 flux cause...200 samedi rpit...200 chaque jour envie...200 nuit qui fais tant...200 rien nul...202 peine bien men...202 ce qu'ont les yeux...202 ce qu'a de pis...204 ne manquez pas Tanger...204 plus loin un autre commmore...204 ne manquez pas Stuttgart...206 vieil aller...206 fous qui disiez...206 pas pas...206 rve...208 morte parmi...208 d'o...208 mots survivants...208 fleuves et ocans...208 de pied ferme...210 sitt sorti de 1 ' ermitage...

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210 instant de s ' entendre dire... 210 la nuit venue o me allait...210 pas davantage... 210 son ombre une nuit...212 noire sur...212 comme au...212 c'est Fheure...212 bout de songes un bouquin...214 le nain nonagnaire...214 ne verra t'il jamais...214 qu' lever la tte...214 par une faille dans l'inexistence...

214 lui...

216 one dead of night...

19871989

218 Brief Dream220 Go where never before222 Comment dire

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19301939

WHOROSCOPE

What's that?An egg?By the brothers Boot it stinks fresh.Give it to Gillot

Galileo how are youand his consecutive thirds!The vile old Copernican lead-swinging

son of a sutler!We're moving he said we're off- Porca Madonna!the way a boatswain would be, or a sack-of-potatoey

charging Pretender

10 That's not moving, that's moving.

What's that?A little green fry or a mushroomy one?Two lashed ovaries with prostisciutto?How long did she womb it, the feathery one?Three days and four nights?Give it to GillotFaulhaber, Beeckman and Peter the Red,

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come now in the cloudy avalanche or Gassendi 's sun-redcrystally cloud

and I'll pebble you all your hen-and-a-half ones

20 or I'll pebble a lens under the quilt in the midst of day.To think he was my own brother, Peter the Bruiser,and not a syllogism out of himno more than if Pa were still in it.Hey! Pass over those coppers,sweet milled sweat of my burning liver!Them were the days I sat in the hot-cupboard throwing

Jesuits out of the skylight.

Who's that? Hals?Let him wait.

My squinty doaty!30 I hid and you sook.

And Francine my precious fruit of a house-and-parlourfoetus!

What an exfoliation!Her little grey flayed epidermis and scarlet tonsils!

My one childscourged by a fever to stagnant murky blood

blood!

Oh Harvey belovedhow shall the red and white, the many in the few,(dear bloodswirling Harvey)

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40 eddy through that cracked beater?And the fourth Henry came to the crypt of the arrow.

What's that?How long?Sit on it.

A wind of evil flung my despair of easeagainst the sharp spires of the onelady:not once or twice but...(Kip of Christ hatch it!)

50 in one sun's drowning(Jesuitasters please copy).So on with the silk hose over the knitted, and the morbid

leather what am I saying! the gentle canvas and away to Ancona on the bright Adriatic,and farewell for a space to the yellow key of the

Rosicrucians.

They don't know what the master of them that do did,that the nose is touched by the kiss of all foul and sweet air,

and the drums, and the throne of the faecal inlet,and the eyes by its zig-zags.

60 So we drink Him and eat Himand the watery Beaune and the stale cubes of Hovisbecause He can jigas near or as far from His Jigging Selfand as sad or lively as the chalice or the tray asks.

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How's that, Antonio?In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up that egg.Shall I swallow cave-phantoms?

Anna Maria!She reads Moses and says her love is crucified.

70 Leider! Leider! She bloomed and withered,a pale abusive parakeet in a mainstreet window.No I believe every word of it I assure youFallor, ergo sum!The coy old frleur!He toi le 'd and legge'dand he buttoned on his redemptorist waistcoat.No matter, let it pass.I'm a bold boy I knowso I'm not my son

80 (even if I were a concierge)nor Joachim my father'sbut the chip of a perfect block that's neither old nor new,

the lonely petal of a great high bright rose.

Are you ripe at last,my slim pale double-breasted turd?How rich she smells,this abortion of a fledgling!I will eat it with a fish fork.White and yolk and feathers.

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90 Then I will rise and move movingtoward Rahab of the snows,the murdering matinal pope-confessed amazon,Christina the ripper.

Oh Weulles spare the blood of a FrankWho has climbed the bitter steps,(Ren du Perron...!)and grant me my secondstarless inscrutable hour.

1930

NOTES BY THE AUTHOR

Ren Descartes, Seigneur du Perron, liked his omelette made ofeggs hatched from eight to ten days; shorter or longer under thehen and the result, he says, is disgusting.He kept his own birthday to himself so that no astrologer couldcast his nativity.The shuttle of a ripening egg combs the warp of his days.

3 In 1640 the brothers Boot refuted Aristotle in Dublin.

4 Descartes passed on the easier problems in analytical geometryto his valet Gillot.

-10 Refer to his contempt for Galileo Jr., (whom he confusedwith the more musical Galileo Sr.), and to his expedient sophistryconcerning the movement of the earth.

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17 He solved problems submitted by these mathematicians.

2126 The attempt at swindling on the part of his elder brotherPierre de la Bretaillire - The money he received as a soldier.

27 Franz Hals.

2930 As a child he played with a little cross-eyed girl.

3135 His daughter died of scarlet fever at the age of six.

37-40 Honoured Harvey for his discovery of the circulation ofthe blood, but would not admit that he had explained the motionof the heart.

41 The heart of Henri IV was received at the Jesuit college of LaFlche while Descartes was still a student there.

4353 His visions and pilgrimage to Loretto.

5665 His Eucharistie sophistry, in reply to the JansenistAntoine Arnauld, who challenged him to reconcile his doctrineof matter with his doctrine of transubstantiation.

68 Schurmann, the Dutch blue-stocking, a pious pupil of Vot,the adversary of Descartes.

7376 Saint Augustine has a revelation in the shrubbery andreads Saint Paul.

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7783 He proves God by exhaustion.

9193 Christina, queen of Sweden. At Stockholm, in November,she required Descartes, who had remained in bed till midday allhis life, to be with her at five o'clock in the morning.

94 Weulles, a Peripatetic Dutch physician at the Swedish court,and an enemy of Descartes.

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FOR FUTURE REFERENCE

My cherished chemist friendlured me alooflydown from the corniceinto the basementand there:drew bottles of acid and alkali out of his breastto a colourscale accompaniment(mad dumbells spare me!)fiddling deft and expertwith the doubled jointed nutcrackers of the

hen's ovaries

But I stilled my cringingand smote himyes oh my strength!smashedmashed(peace my incisors!)flayed and crushed himwith a ready are you steadycuff-discharge.But did I?

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And then the bright watersbeneath the broad boardthe trembling blade of the streamlined diversand down to our waitingto my enforced buoyancycame floating the words ofthe Mutilatorand the work of his fmgerjoints:observe gentlemen one ofthe consequences of the displacement of(click)!the muncher.The hair shall be greyabove the left templethe hair shall be grey thereabracadabra!sweet wedge of birds faithless!God blast you yes it is we seeGod bless you professorwe can't clap or we'd sinkthree cheers for the perhaps pitiful professornext per shaving? next per sh ?Well of all the !that little bullet-headed bristle-croppedred-faced rat of a pure mathematicianthat I thought was experimenting with barbed

wire inthe Punjabup he comes surging to the landing stepsand tells me I'm putting no guts in my kick.Like this he says like this.

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Well I just swam out nimblyblushing and hopelesswith the little swift strokes that I like andWhoops!over the stream and the tall green bankin a strong shallow archand his face all twisted calm and patientand the board ledge doing its best to illustrateBruno's identification of contrariesinto the water or on to the stones?No matter at all he can't come backfrom far bay or stony groundyes here he is(he must have come under)for the second editioncominghouse innings set half or anything...

if he can't come twiceor forgets his lessonor breaks his leghe might forget methey all might....!

so the snowy floor of the parrot's cellburning at dawnthe palaiate of my strange mouth.

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RETURN TO THE VESTRY

Loveroff with your bracesSlouch in unbuttoned easefill a sack take a porter climb a mountainas he didthe deaf conceited lecherous laypriestthe vindictive old sausage-sprinklerdirt in a dirt floorin a chapel barnby a stifled stream.Zoroasterpolitely factorizedand a hay-rakeguarantee his siestaexcept during the harvest season when the

latter is removed.I may be mistakenbut tears covering all risks I took a time exposureand wept into my hat.So

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swell the cairn and spill the doingsBurn sulphur!Juniper flame to a swirl of ashes!Drown the SingerI'm done with stitch anguish.Now a compress of wormwood and verbenaon my fiery buttocks.Smother the place in Cerebos it stinks of

breeding.Here's the mange of beauty in a corporation

bucket!Shovel it into the winds!Loose the sparrows.Pluck that pigeon she dribbles fertility.Mumps and a orchid to Frulein Miranda.Gentle Anterosdark and dispassionatecome a grave snake with peace to my quarryand choke my regretnoble Anterosand coil at the door of my quarry tomband span its rim with a luminous awningshallow and dimas a grey tilt of silkfiltering sadlythe weary triumph of morning.

Or mock a duller impurity.

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CASKET OF PRALINEN FORA DAUGHTER OF A DISSIPATED MANDARIN

Is he long enough in the leg?Gibuthis faice...Oh me little timid Rosinetteisn't it Bartholo, synthetic grey cat, regal

candle?Keep Thyrsis for your morning ones.Hold your head well over the letter darlingor they'll fall on the blotting.Will you ever forget that soupe arroseon the first of the first,spoonfeeding the weeping gladiatorrenewing our baptismal vowsand dawn cracking all along the lineslobbery assumption of the innocentstwo Irish in one God.

Radiant lemon-whiskered Christand you obliging porte-phallie-portfolioand blood-faced Tomdisbelievingin the Closerie cocktail that is my

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and of course John the bright boy of theclass

swallowing an apostolic spitTHE BULLIEST FEED IN 4STORYif the boy scouts hadn't booked a trough

for the eleventh's eleventh eleven yearsafter.

Now me boytake a hitch in your lyrical loinstring.What is this that is morethan the anguish of Beauty,this gale of pain that was not preparedin the caves of her eyes?

Is it enougha stitch in the hem of the garment of God?

To-night her gaze would be lessthan a lark's barred sunlight.

Oh I am ashamedof all clumsy artistryI am ashamed of presumingto arrange wordsof everything but the ingenuous fibresthat suffer honestly.

Fool! Do you hope to untangleThe knot of God's pain?

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Melancholy Christ that was a soft one!Oh yes I think that was perhaps just a very

littleinclined to be rather too self-conscious.

Schluss!Now ladies and gentsa chocolate-coated hiccough to our old

friend.Put on your hats and sit easy.Oh beauty!oh thou predatory evacuation,from the bowels of my regret -readily affectedby the assimilation of a purging gobbetfrom my memory's involuntary vomit -violently projected,oh beauty!oh innocent and spluttering beautiful!

What price the Balbec express?Albion Albion mourn for him mournthy cockerup Willy the idiot boythe portly scullion's codpiece.Now who'll discover in Mantegna'sbutchery stout foreshortened Saviourrecognitions of transcendenthorse-power?Sheep he wrote the very much doubtinggenial illegible landscape gardener.

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Gloucester's no bimboand he's in Limboso all's well with the gorgonzola cheese of human

kindness.

Though the swine were slaughteredbeneath the wavesnot far from the firm sandthey're gone they're gonemy Brussels Braut!

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Miserere oh colonoh passionate iliumand Frances the cook in the study mourningan abstract bellyinstead of the writhing asparagus-plumersmashed on deliveryby the most indifferential calculusthat never came outor ever disdresseda redknuckled slut of a Paduan Virtue.

Show that plate here to your bedfruitspent babyand take a good swigat our buxom calabash.There's more than bandit Glaxounderneath me maternity toga.So she sags and here's the other.

That's the real export or I'm a Jungfrau.Now wipe your moustache and hand us the vaseline.

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Open Thou my lipsand(if one dare make a suggestion)Thine eye of skyflesh.Am I a token of Godcraft?The masterpiece of a scourged apprentice?Where is my hippopot's cedar tail?and belly muscles?Shall I cease to lamentbeing not as the flashsneezing

non-suppliant airtight alligator?Not so but perhapsat the sight and the sound ofa screechy flatfooted Tuscany peacock's

Strauss fandango and recitativenot forgettinghe stinks eternal.

Alas my scorned packthread!No blade has smoothed the furrowed cheeksthat my tears corrode.My varicose veins take my kneeling thoughts

from the piteous pelican.Quick tip losers narcissistic inverts.

Twice I parted two crawlersdribbling their not connubial stranglesin Arcadia of all places.

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Believe me Miss Opsswan flame or shower of goldit's one to ten at the time(no offence to your noble deathjerks)

I know I was at it seven...the bitch she's blinded me!Manto me dearand iced sherbet and me blood's a solid.

We are proud in our painour life was not blind.

Worms breed in their red tearsas they slouch by unnamedscorned by the black ferrydespairing of deathwho shall not scour in swift joythe bright hill's girdlenor tremble with the dark pride of tortureand the bitter dignity of an ingenious damnation.Lo-Ruhama Lo-Ruhamapity is quick with death.Presumptuous passionate fool come nowto the sad maimed shadesand stand coldon the cold moon.

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HELL CRANE TO STARLING

Oholiba charm of my eyesthere is a cave above Tsoarand a Spanish donkey there.

You needn't bring wine to that non-relation.

And he won't knowwho changed his namewhen Jehovah sprained the seam of his haunchin Peniel in Penielafter he's sent on the thirty camelssuckling for dear deathand so many filliesthat I don't want log tablets.

Mister Jacobson mister Hippolitus-in-hell Jacobsonwe all knowhow you tried to rejoin your da.Bilha always blabs.

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Because Benoni skirted aftercrop

of my aching loinsyou'll never see himreddening the wall in two dimensionsand if you didyou might spare the postage to Chaldea.

But there's a bloody fine asslepping with stout and impure de pommesin the hill above Tsoar.

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SONNET

At last I find in my confused soul,Dark with the dark flame of the cypresses,The certitude that I cannot be whole,Consummate, finally achieved, unless

I be consumed and fused in the white heatOf her sad finite essence, so that noneShall sever us who are at last completeEternally, irrevocably one,

One with the birdless, cloudless, colourless skies,One with the bright purity of the fireOf which we are and for which we must dieA rapturous strange death and be entire,

Like syzygetic stars, supernly bright,Conjoined in One and in the Infinit!

1932

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CALVARY BY NIGHT

the waterthe waste of water

in the womb of wateran pansy leaps

rocket of bloom flare flower of night wilt for meon the breasts of the water it has closed it has madean act of floral presence on the waterthe tranquil act of its cycle on the wastefrom the spouting forthto the re-enwombingan untroubled bow of petal and fragrancekingfisher abateddrowned for meLamb of my insustenance

till the clamour of a blue flowerbeat on the walls of the womb ofthe waste ofthe water

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FROM THE ONLY POETTO A SHINING WHORE

For Henry Crowder to sing.

Rahab of the holy battlements,bright dripping shaftin the bright bright patientpearl-brow dawn-dusk lover of the sun.

Puttanina mia!You hid them happy in the high flax,pale before the fordsof Jordan, and the dry red waters,and you lowered a pledgeof scarlet hemp.

Oh radiant, oh angry, oh Beatrice,she foul with the victoryof the bloodless fingersand proud, and you, Beatrice, mother, sister,daughter, beloved,fierce pale flameof doubt, and God's sorrow,and my sorrow.

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YOKE OF LIBERTY

The lips of her desire are greyand parted like a silk loopthreateninga slight wanton wound.She preys wearilyon sensitive wild thingsproud to be tornby the grave crouch of her beauty.But she will die and her snaretendered so patientlyto my tamed watchful sorrowwill break and hangin a pitiful crescent.

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HOME OLGA

J might be made sit up for a jade of hope (and exile,don't you know)

And Jesus and Jesuits juggemauted in the haemorrhoidal isle,Modo et forma anal maiden, giggling to death in

stomacho. for the erythrite of love and silence and the sweet

noo style,Swoops and loops of love and silence in the eye of

the sun and view of the mew,Juvante Jah and a Jain or two and the tip of a

friendly yiddophile. for an opal of faith and cunning winking adieu, adieu, adieu.Yesterday shall be tomorrow, riddle me that my

rapparee.Che sar sar ehe fu, there's more than Homer knows how to spew,Exempli gratia: ecce himself and the pickthank agnus

e.o.o.e.

1932

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* {).** (). Deo juvante .

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omission excepte.

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GNOME

Spend the years of learning squanderingCourage for the years of wanderingThrough a world politely turningFrom the loutishness of learning.

1934

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CASCANDO

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why not merely the despaired ofoccasion ofwordshed

is it not better abort than be barren

the hours after you are gone are so leadenthey will always start dragging too soonthe grapples clawing blindly the bed of wantbringing up the bones the old lovessockets filled once with eyes like yoursall always is it better too soon than neverthe black want splashing their facessaying again nine days never floated the loved

nor nine monthsnor nine lives

saying againif you do not teach me I shall not learn

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saying again there is a lasteven of last timeslast times of begginglast times of lovingof knowing not knowing pretendinga last even of last times of sayingif you do not love me I shall not be lovedif I do not love you I shall not love

the churn of stale words in the heart againlove love love thud of the old plungerpestling the unalterablewhey of words

terrified againof not lovingof loving and not youof being loved and not by youof knowing not knowing pretendingpretending

I and all the others that will love youif they love you

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unless they love you

1936

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1936

OOFTISH

offer it up plank it downGolgotha was only the poteggcancer angina it is all one to uscough up your T.B. don't be stingyno trifle is too trifling not even a thrombusanything venereal is especially welcomethat old toga in the mothballsdon't be sentimental you won't be wanting it again

send it along we'll put it in the pot with the restwith your love requited and unrequitedthe things taken too late the things taken too soonthe spirit aching bullock's scrotumyou won't cure it you won't endure itit is you it equals you any fool has to pity you

so parcel up the whole issue and send it alongthe whole misery diagnosed undiagnosed

misdiagnosed

get your friends to do the same we'll make use of itwe'll make sense of it we'll put it in the pot with the

restit all boils down to blood of lamb

1938

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DIEPPE

encore le dernier refluxle galet mortle demi-tour puis les pasvers les vieilles lumires

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ECHO'S BONES

THE VULTURE

dragging his hunger through the skyof my skull shell of sky and earth

stooping to the prone who mustsoon take up their life and walk

mocked by a tissue that may not servetill hunger earth and sky be offal.

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ENUEGI

Exeo in a spasmtired of my darling's red sputumfrom the Portobello Private Nursing Homeits secret thingsand toil to the crest of the surge of the steep

perilous bridgeand lapse down blankly under the scream of the

hoardinground the bright stiff banner of the hoarding

into a black westthrottled with clouds.

Above the mansions the algum-treesthe mountainsmy skull sullenlyclot of angerskewered aloft strangled in the cang of the windbites like a dog against its chastisement.

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I trundle along rapidly now on my ruined feetflush with the livid canal;at Parnell Bridge a dying bargecarrying a cargo of nails and timberrocks itself softly in the foaming cloister of the

lock;on the far bank a gang of down and outs would

seem to be mending a beam.

Then for miles only windand the weals creeping alongside on the waterand the world opening up to the southacross a travesty of champaign to the mountainsand the stillborn evening turning a filthy green

manuring the night fungusand the mind annulledwrecked in wind.

I splashed past a little wearish old man,Democritus,scuttling along between a crutch and a stick,his stump caught up horribly, like a claw, under his

breech, smoking.Then because a field on the left went up in a sudden

blazeof shouting and urgent whistling and scarlet and

blue ganziesI stopped and climbed the bank to see the game.A child fidgeting at the gate called up:

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"Would we be let in Mister?""Certainly" I said "you would."But, afraid, he set off down the road."Well" I called after him "why wouldn't you go on

in?""Oh" he said, knowingly,"I was in that field before and I got put out."Soon,derelict,as from a bush of gorse on fire in the mountain

after dark,or, in Sumatra the jungle hymen,the still flagrant rafflesia.

Next:a lamentable family of grey verminous hens,perishing out in the sunk field,trembling, half asleep, against the closed door of a

shed,with no means of roosting.

The great mushy toadstool,green-black,oozing up after me,soaking up the tattered sky like an ink of pestilence,in my skull the wind going fetid,the water . . .

Next:on the hill down from the Fox and Geese into

Chapelizod

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a small malevolent goat, exiled on the road,remotely pucking the gate of his field;the Isolde Stores a great perturbation of sweaty

heroes,in their Sunday best,come hastening down for a pint of nepenthe or

moly or half and halffrom watching the hurlers above in Kilmainham.

Blotches of doomed yellow in the pit of the Liffey;the fingers of the ladders hooked over the parapet,

soliciting;a slush of vigilant gulls in the grey spew of the

sewer.

Ah the bannerthe banner of meat bleedingon the silk of the seas and the arctic flowersthat do not exist.

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ENUEG II

world world world worldand the face gravecloud against the evening

de morituris nihil nisi

and the face crumbling shylytoo late to darken the skyblushing away into the eveningshuddering away like a gaffe

veronica mundiveronica mundagive us a wipe for the love of Jesus

sweating like Judastired of dyingtired of policemenfeet in marmaladeperspiring profusely

84

II

de morituris nihil nisi*

(.).

85

heart in marmaladesmoke more fruitthe old heart the old heartbreaking outside congressdoch I assure theelying on O'Connell Bridgegoggling at the tulips of the eveningthe green tulipsshining round the corner like an anthraxshining on Guinness's barges

the overtone the facetoo late to righten the skydoch doch I assure thee

,

doch '

doch doch .

* (.).

ALBA

before morning you shall be hereand Dante and the Logos and all strata and mysteriesand the branded moonbeyond the white plane of musicthat you shall establish here before morning

grave suave singing silkstoop to the black firmament of arecarain on the bamboos flower of smoke alley of

willows

who though you stoop with fingers of compassionto endorse the dustshall not add to your bountywhose beauty shall be a sheet before mea statement of itself drawn across the tempest of

emblemsso that there is no sun and no unveilingand no hostonly I and then the sheetand bulk dead

89

DORTMUNDER

In the magic the Homer duskpast the red spire of sanctuaryI null she royal hulkhasten to the violet lamp to the thin K'in music of

the bawd.She stands before me in the bright stallsustaining the jade splintersthe scarred signaculum of purity quietthe eyes the eyes black till the plagal eastshall resolve the long night phrase.Then, as a scroll, folded,and the glory of her dissolution enlargedin me, Habbakuk, mard of all sinners.Schopenhauer is dead, the bawdputs her lute away.

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SANIES I

all the livelong way this day of sweet showers fromPortrane on the seashore

Donabate sad swans of Turvey Swordspounding along in three ratios like a sonatalike a Ritter with pommelled scrotum atra cura on the stepBotticelli from the fork down pestling the transmissiontires bleeding voiding zeep the highwayall heaven in the sphincterthe sphincter

mde nowpotwalloping now through the promenadersthis trusty all-steel this super-real

bound for home like a good boywhere I was born with a pop with the green of the

larches

92

I

atra cura

mde*

* (.).** Mde (.).

93

ah to be back in the caul now with no trustsno fingers no spoilt lovebelting along in the meantime clutching the bikethe billows of the nubile the cere wrackpot-valiant caulless waisted in rags hatless

for mamma papa chicken and hamwarm Grave too say the wordhappy days snap the stem shed a tearthis day Spy Wednesday seven pentades pastoh the larches the pain drawn like a corkthe glans he took the day off up hill and down dalewith a ponderous fawn from the Liverpool London

and Globeback the shadows lengthen the sycamores are sobbingto roly-poly oh to me a spanking boybuckets of fizz childbed is thirsty workfor the midwife he is goryfor the proud parent he washes down a gob of

gladnessfor footsore Achates also he pants his pleasuresparkling beestings for metired now hair ebbing gums ebbing ebbing home

good as gold now in the prime after a briefprodigality

yea and suavesuave urbane beyond good and evilbiding my time without rancour you may take your

oath

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distraught half-crooked courting the sneers of thesefauns these smart nymphs

clipped like a pederast as to one trouser-endsucking in my bloated lantern behind a Wild

Woodbinecinched to death in a filthy slickerflinging the proud Swift forward breasting the swell

of StrmersI see main verb at lasther whom alone in the accusativeI have dismounted to lovegliding towards me dauntless nautch-girl on the

face of the watersdauntless daughter of desires in the old black and

flamingoget along with you now take the six the seven the

eight or the little single-deckertake a bus for all I care walk cadge a lift

home to the cob of your web in Holies Streetand let the tiger go on smilingin our hearts that funds ways home

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SANIES II

there was a happy landthe American Barin Rue Mouffetardthere were red eggs thereI have a dirty I say henorrhoidscoming from the baththe steam the delight the sherbetthe chagrin of the old skinnymalinksslouching happy bodyloose in my stinking old suitsailing slouching up to Puvis the gauntlet of tulipslash lash me with yaller tulips I will let downmy stinking old trousersmy love she sewed up the pockets alive the live-oh

she did she said that was betterspotless then within the brown rags gliding

frescoward free up the fjord of dyed eggs andthongbells

I disappear don't you know into the localthe mackerel are at billiards there they are crying the scoresthe Barfrau makes a big impression with her mighty bottom

98

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99

Dante and blissful Beatrice are thereprior to Vita Nuovathe balls splash no luck comradeGracieuse is there Belle-Belle down the drainbooted Percinet with his cobalt jowlthey are necking gobble-gobblesuck is not suck that alterslo Alighieri has got off au revoir to all thatI break down quite in a titter of despiteharkupon the saloon a terrible husha shiver convulses Madame de la Motteit courses it peals down her collopsthe great bottom foams into stillnessquick quick the cavaletto supplejacks for

mumbo-jumbovivas puellas mortui incurrrrrsant bovesoh subito subito ere she recover the cang bamboo

for bastinadoa bitter moon fessade la modeoh Becky spare me I have done thee no wrong

spare me damn theespare me good Beckycall off thine adders Becky I will compensate thee in full

Lord have mercy uponChrist have mercy upon us

Lord have mercy upon us

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vivas puellas mortui incurrrrrsant boves*! subito subito**

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SERENA I

without the grand old British MuseumThaes and the Aretinoon the bosom of the Regent's Park the phloxcrackles under the thunderscarlet beauty in our world dead fish adrift

all things full of godspressed down and bleedinga weaver-bird is tangerine the harpy is past caringthe condor likewise in his mangy boathey stare out across monkey-hill the elephants

Irelandthe light creeps down their old home canyonsucks me aloof to that old reliablethe burning btm of George the drillah across the way a adderbroaches her ratwhite as snowin her dazzling oven strom of peristalsislimae labor

102

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limae labor*! (.).

103

ah father father that art in heaven

I find me taking the Crystal Palacefor the Blessed Isles from Primrose Hillalas I must be that kind of personhence in Ken Wood who shall find memy breath held in the midst of thicketsnone but the most quarried lovers

I surprise me moved by the many a funnel hinged

for the obeisance to Tower Bridgethe viper's curtsy to and from the Citytill in the dusk a lighterblind with pridetosses aside the scarf of the basculesthen in the grey hold of the ambulancethrobbing on the brink ebb of sighsthen I hug me below among the canailleuntil a guttersnipe blast his cernd eyesdemanding 'ave I done with the MirrorI stump off in a fearful rage under Married Men's

Quarters Bloody Towerand afar off at all speed screw me up Wren's giant

bullyand curse the day caged panting on the platform

under the flaring urnI was not born Defoe

but in Ken Woodwho shall find me

104

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my brother the flythe common houseflysidling out of darkness into lightfastens on his place in the sunwhets his six legsrevels in his planes his poisersit is the autumn of his lifehe could not serve typhoid and mammon

SERENA II

this clonic earth

see-saw she is blurred in sleepshe is fat half dead the rest is free-wheeling

part the black shag the peltis ashen woadsnarl and howl in the wood wake all the birdshound the harlots out of the fernsthis damfool twilight threshing in the brakebleating to be bloodiedthis crapulent hushtear its heart out

in her dreams she trembles againway back in the dark old days panting

in the claws of the Pins in the stress of her hourthe bag writhes she thinks she is dyingthe light fails it is time to lie downClew Bay vat of xanthic flowers

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109

Croagh Patrick waned Hindu to spite a pilgrim

she is ready she has lain down above all the islandsof glory

straining now this Sabbath evening of garlandswith a yo-heave-ho of able-bodied swansout from the doomed land their reefs of tressesin a hag she drops her youngthe whales in Blacksod Bay are dancingthe asphodels come running the flags aftershe thinks she is dying she is ashamed

she took me up on to a watershedwhence like the rubrics of a childhoodbehold Meath shining through a chink in the hills

posses of larches there is no going back ona rout of tracks and streams fleeing to the seakindergartens of steeples and then the harbourlike a woman making to cover her breastsand left me

with whatever trust of panic we went outwith so much shall we returnthere shall be no loss of panic between a man and

his dogbitch though he be

sodden packet of Churchmanmuzzling the cairnit is worse than dream

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the light randy slut can't be easythis clonic earthall these phantoms shuddering out of focusit is useless to close the eyesall the chords of the earth broken like a woman

pianist'sthe toads abroad again on their roundssidling up to their snaresthe fairy-tales of Meath endedso say your prayers now and go to bedyour prayers before the lamps start to sing behind

the larcheshere at these knees of stonethen to bye-bye on the bones

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SERENA III

fix this pothook of beauty on this paletteyou never know it might be final

or leave her she is paradise and thenplush hymens on your eyeballs

or on Butt Bridge blush for shamethe mixed declension of those mammae

cock up thy moon thine and thine onlyup up up to the star of eveningswoon upon the arch-gasometeron Misery Hill brand-new carnationswoon upon the little purplehouse of prayersomething heart of Marythe Bull and Pool Beg that will never meetnot in this world

whereas dart away through the cavorting scapesbucket o'er Victoria Bridge that's the idea

114

III

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slow down slink down the Ringsend RoadIrishtown Sandymount puzzle find the Hell Firethe Merrion Flats scored with a thrillion sigmasJesus Christ Son of God Saviour His Fingergirls taken strippin that's the ideaon the Bootersgrad breakwind and waterthe tide making the dun gulls in a panicthe sands quicken in your hot hearthide yourself not in the Rock keep on the movekeep on the move

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MALACODA

thrice he camethe undertaker's manimpassible behind his scutal bowler

to measureis he not paid to measurethis incorruptible in the vestibulethis malebranca knee-deep in the liliesMalacoda knee-deep in the liliesMalacoda for all the expert awethat felts his perineum mutes his signal

sighing up through the heavy airmust it be it must be it must befind the weeds engage them in the gardenhear she may see she need not

to coffinwith assistant ungulatafind the weeds engage their attentionhear she must see she need not

118

119

to coverto be sure cover cover all overyour targe allow me hold your sulphurdivine dogday glass set fairstay Scarmilion stay staylay this Huysum on the boxmind the imago it is hehear she must see she mustall aboard all soulshalf-mast aye aye

nay

! !

DA TAGTE ES

redeem the surrogate goodbyesthe sheet astream in your handwho have no more for the landand the glass unmisted above your eyes

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ECHO'S BONES

asylum under my tread all this daytheir muffled revels as the flesh fallsbreaking without fear or favour windthe gantelope of sense and nonsense runtaken by the maggots for what they are

1935

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1935

125

elles viennentautres et pareillesavec chacune c'est autre et c'est pareilavec chacune l'absence d'amour est autreavec chacune l'absence d'amour est pareille

126

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elle l'acte calmeles pores savants le sexe bon enfantl'attente pas trop lente les regrets pas trop longs

l'absenceau service de la prsenceles quelques haillons d'azur dans la tte les points enfin

morts du coeurtoute la tardive grce d'une pluie cessantau tomber d'une nuitd'aot

elle videlui purd'amour

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129

tre l sans mchoires sans dentso s'en va le plaisir de perdreavec celui peine infrieurde gagneret Roscelin et on attendadverbe oh petit cadeauvide vide sinon des loques de chansonmon pre m'a donn un mariou en faisant la fleurqu'elle mouilletant qu'elle voudra jusqu' l'lgiedes sabots ferrs encore loin des Hallesou l'eau de la canaille pestant dans les tuyauxou plus rienqu'elle mouille puisque c'est ainsiparfasse tout le superfluet vienne la bouche idiote la main formicanteau bloc cave l'oeil qui coutede lointains coups de ciseaux argentins

130

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ASCENSION

travers la mince cloisonce jour o un enfantprodigue sa faonrentra dans sa famillej'entends la voixelle est mue elle commentela coupe du monde de football

toujours trop jeune

en mme temps par la fentre ouvertepar les airs tout courtsourdementla houle des fidles

son sang gicla avec abondancesur les draps sur les pois de senteur sur son mecde ses doigts dgotants il ferma les paupiressur les grands yeux verts tonns

elle rde lgresur ma tombe d'air

132

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LA MOUCHE

entre la scne et moila vitrevide sauf elle

ventre terresangle dans ses boyaux noirsantennes affoles ailes liespattes crochues bouche suant videsabrant l'azur s'crasant contre l'invisiblesous mon pouce impuissant elle fait chavirerla mer et le ciel serein

134

135

musique de l'indiffrencecoeur temps air feu sabledu silence boulement d'amourscouvre leurs voix et queje ne m'entende plusme taire

136

137

bois seulbouffe brle fornique crve seul comme devantles absents sont morts les prsents puent

sors tes yeux dtourne-les sur les roseauxse taquinent-ils ou les aspas la peine il y a le ventet l'tat de veille

138

139

ainsi a-t-on beaupar le beau temps et par le mauvaisenferm chez soi enferm chez euxcomme si c'tait d'hier se rappeler le mammouthle dinothrium les premiers baisersles priodes glaciaires n'apportant rien de neufla grande chaleur du treizime de leur resur Lisbonne fumante Kant froidement penchrver en gnrations de chnes et oublier son preses yeux s'il portait la moustaches'il tait bon de quoi il est morton n'en est pas moins mang sans apptitpar le mauvais temps et par le pireenferm chez soi enferm chez eux

140

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141

RUE DE VAUGIRARD

mi-hauteurje dbraye et bant de candeurexpose la plaque aux lumires et aux ombrespuis repars fortifid'un ngatif irrcusable

142

143

ARNES DE LUTCE

De l o nous sommes assis plus haut que les gradinsje nous vois entrer du ct de la Rue des Arnes,hsiter, regarder en l'air, puis pesammentvenir vers nous travers le sable sombre,de plus en plus laids, aussi laids que les autres,mais muets. Un petit chien vertentre en courant du ct de la Rue Monge,elle s'arrte, elle le suit des yeux,il traverse l'arne, il disparaitderrire le socle du savant Gabriel de Mortillet.Elle se retourne, je suis parti, je gravis seulles marches rustiques, je touche de ma main gauchela rampe rustique, elle est en bton. Elle hsite,fait un pas vers la sortie de la Rue Monge, puis me suit.J'ai un frisson, c'est moi qui me rejoins,c'est avec d'autres yeux que maintenant je regardele sable, les flaques d'eau sous la bruine,une petite fille tranant derrire elle un cerceau,un couple, qui sait des amoureux, la main dans la main,les gradins vides, les hautes maisons, le ciel

144

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qui nous claire trop tard.Je me retourne, je suis tonnde trouver l son triste visage.

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jusque dans la caverne ciel et solet une une les vieilles voixd'outre-tombeet lentement la mme lumirequi sur les plaines d'Enna en longs violsmacrait nagure les capillaireset les mmes loisque nagureet lentement au loin qui teintProserpine et Atroposadorable de vide douteuxencore la bouche d'ombre

148

149

19451949

SAINT-L

Vire will wind in other shadowsunborn through the bright ways trembleand the old mind ghost-forsakensink into its havoc.

1946

150

19451949

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151

ANTIPEPSIS

And the number was unevenIn the green of holy StephenWhere before the ass the cartWas harnessed for a foreign part.In this should not be seen the signOf hasard, no, but of design,For of the two, by common consent,The cart was the more intelligent.Whose exceptionally piaMater hatched this grand ideaIs not known. He or she,Smiling, unmolested, free,By this one act the mind becomeA providential vacuum,Continues still to stroll amok,To eat, drink, piss, shit, fart and fuck,Assuming that the fucking seasonDid not expire with that of reason.Now through the city spreads apaceThe cry: A thought has taken place!A human thought! Ochone! Ochone!Purissima Virgo! We're undone!Bitched, buggered and bewildered!Bring forth your dead! Bring forth your dead!

152

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153

bon bon il est un payso l'oubli o pse l'oublidoucement sur les mondes innommsl la tte on la tait la tte est muetteet on sait non on ne sait rienle chant des bouches mortes meurtsur la grve il a fait le voyageil n'y a rien pleurer

ma solitude je la connais allez je la connais malj'ai le temps c'est ce que je me dis j'ai le tempsmais quel temps os affam le temps du chiendu ciel plissant sans cesse mon grain de cieldu rayon qui grimpe ocell tremblantdes microns des annes tnbres

vous voulez que j'aille d'A je ne peux pasje ne peux pas sortir je suis dans un pays sans tracesoui oui c'est une belle chose que vous avez l une bien belle chosequ'est-ce que c'est ne me posez plus de questionsspirale poussire d'instants qu'est-ce que c'est le mmele calme l'amour la haine le calme le calme

154

155

MORT DE A. D.

et l tre l encore lpress contre ma vieille planche vrole du noirdes jours et nuits broys aveuglment tre l ne pas fuir et fuir et tre lcourb vers l'aveu du temps mourantd'avoir t ce qu'il fut fait ce qu'il fitde moi de mon ami mort hier l'oeil luisantles dents longues haletant dans sa barbe dvorantla vie des saints une vie par jour de vierevivant dans la nuit ses noirs pchsmort hier pendant que je vivaiset tre l buvant plus haut que l'oragela coulpe du temps irrmissibleagripp au vieux bois tmoin des dpartstmoin des retours

156

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157

vive morte ma seule saisonlis blancs chrysanthmesnids vifs abandonnsboue des feuilles d'avrilbeaux jours gris de givre

158

159

je suis ce cours de sable qui glisseentre le galet et la dunela pluie d't pleut sur ma viesur moi ma vie qui me fuit me poursuitet finira le jour de son commencement

cher instant je te voisdans ce rideau de brume qui reculeo je n'aurai plus fouler ces longs seuils mouvants

et vivrai le temps d'une portequi s'ouvre et se referme

160

161

que ferais-je sans ce monde sans visage sans questionso tre ne dure qu'un instant o chaque instantverse dans le vide dans l'oubli d'avoir tsans cette onde o la fincorps et ombre ensemble s'engloutissentque ferais-je sans ce silence gouffre des murmureshaletant furieux vers le secours vers l'amoursans ce ciel qui s'lvesur la poussire de ses lests

que ferais-je je ferais comme hier comme aujourd'huiregardant par mon hublot si je ne suis pas seul errer et virer loin de toute viedans un espace pantinsans voix parmi les voixenfermes avec moi

162

163

je voudrais que mon amour meurequ'il pleuve sur le cimetireet tes ruelles o je vaispleurant celle qui crut m'aimer

164

165

1953

TAILPIECE

who may tell the taleoftheoldmari?weigh absence in a scale?mete want with a span?the sum assessof the world's woes?nothingnessin words enclose?

166

1953

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167

19621964

SONG

Age is when to a manHuddled o'er the ingleShivering for the hagTo put the pan in the bedAnd bring the toddyShe comes in the ashesWho loved could not be wonOr won not lovedOr some other troubleComes in the ashesLike in that old lightThe face in the ashesThat old starlightOn the earth again.

1962

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19621964

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169

THE DOWNS

the downssummer days on the downshand in handone lovingone lovedback at nightthe hut

no thoughtthoughtless onunder the sunhand in handone lovingthe other lovedthoughtless backnight

on till the cliffthe edgehand in handgazing downthe foam

170

171

no furtherthe edgethe foam

no speechspeechless onunder the sunhand in handtill the edgespeechless backthe hutnight

the bridgewinter nightwindsnow

gazing downthe floodfoaming onblack flood foaming on

no thoughtgazing downmeaningless floodfoaming onwinter nightwindsnow

no meaning

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173

lightfrom the bankslamplightto light the foamthe snowfaintly litthe foamthe snow

19741979

POEME 1974

hors crne seul dedansquelque part quelquefoiscomme quelque chose

crne abri dernierpris dans le dehorstel Bocca dans la glace

l'il l'alarme infimes'ouvre be se rescellen'y ayant plus rien

ainsi quelquefoiscomme quelque chosede la vie pas forcment

1974

176

19741979

1974

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177

SOMETHING THERE

something therewhereout thereout whereoutsidewhatthe head what elsesomething there somewhere outsidethe head

at the faint sound so briefit is gone and the whole globenot yet barethe eyeopens widewidetill in the endnothing moreshutters; it again

so the odd timeout there

178

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somewhere out therelike as ifas ifsomethingnot lifenecessarily

1974

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1974

DREAD NAY

head fastin out as deadtill rendinglong stillfaint stirunseal the eyetill still againseal again

head sphereashen smoothone eyeno hint when tothen glarecyclop noone sideeerily

on faceof out spreadvast inthe highmost

182

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183

snow whitesheeting allasylum headsole blot

faster than wherein hellice eyesstream tillfrozen tojaws railgnaw gnashteeth with storkclack chatter

come throughno sense and gonewhile eyeshocked widewith whitestill to barestir dreadnay to nought

sudden inashen smoothaghastglittering renttill suddensmooth againstir so pastnever been

184

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185

at rayin latibulelong darkstir of dreadtill breachlong sealeddark againstill again

so ere

long stilllong noughtrent soso stirlong pasthead fastin out as dead

1974

1974

ROUNDELAY

on all that strandat end of daysteps sole soundlong sole sounduntil unbidden staythen no soundon all that strandlong no sounduntil unbidden gosteps sole soundlong sole soundon all that strandat end of day

1976

188

1976

189

THITHER

thithera far cryfor oneso littlefair daffodilsmarch then

then therethen there

then thencedaffodilsagainmarch thenagaina far cryagainfor oneso little

1976

190

1976

91

MIRLITONNADES

en facele pirejusqu' cequ'il fasse rire

rentrer la nuitau logisallumer

teindre voirla nuit voircoll la vitrele visage

somme toutetout compte faitun quart de milliassede quarts d'heuresans compterles temps morts

192

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fin fond du nantau bout de quelle guettel'oeil crut entrevoirremuer faiblementla tte le calma disantce ne fut que dans ta tte

silence tel que ce qui futavant jamais ne sera pluspar le murmure dchird'une parole sans passd'avoir trop dit n'en pouvant plusjurant de ne se taire plus

*

coute-less'ajouterles motsaux motssans motles pasaux pasun un

194

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lueurs lisiresde la navetteplus qu'un pas s'teignentdemi-tour remiroitent

halte pluttloin des deuxchez soi sans soini eux

imagine si ceciun jour ceciun beau jourimaginesi un jourun beau jour cecicessaitimagine

196

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197

d'abord plat sur du durla droiteou la gauchen'importe

ensuite plat sur la droiteou la gauchela gaucheou la droiteenfin plat sur la gaucheou la droiten'importesur le toutla tte

flux causeque toute chosetout en tanttoute chosedonc celle-lmme celle-ltout en tantn'est pasparlons-en

198

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199

samedi rpitplus riredepuis minuitjusqu' minuitplus pleurer

chaque jour envied'tre un jour en vienon certes sans regretun jour d'tre n

nuit qui fais tantimplorer l'aubenuit de grcetombe

rien nuln'aura tpour rientant triennul

200

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201

peine bien menle dernier pas le piedrepose en attendantcomme le veut l'usageque l'autre en fasse autantcomme le veut l'usageet porte ainsi le faixencore de l'avantcomme le veut l'usageenfin jusqu' prsent

ce qu'ont les yeuxmal vu de bienles doigts lasssde bien filerserre-les bienles doigts les yeuxle bien revienten mieux

ce qu'a de pisle cur connula tte pude pis se direfais-lesressusciterle pis revienten pire

202

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203

ne manquez pas Tangerle cimetire Saint-Andrmorts sous un fouillisde fleurs surensevelisbanc la mmoired'Arthur Keyserde cur avec luirestes dessus assis

plus loin un autre commmoreCaroline Hay Taylorfidle sa philosophiequ'espoir il y a tant qu'il y a vied'Irlande elle s'enfuit aux cieuxen aot mil neuf cent trente-deux

ne manquez pas Stuttgartla longue Rue Neckardu nant l attraitn'est plus ce qu'il taittant le soupon est fortd'y tre dj et d'ores

204

.

205

*vieil allervieux arrts

allerabsentabsentarrter

fous qui disiezplus jamaisviteredites

pas pasnulle partnul seulne sait commentpetits pasnulle partobstinment

*

rvesans finni trve rien

206

207

morte parmises mouches mortesun souffle coulisberce l'araigne

*

d'ola voix qui ditvis

d'une autre vie

mots survivantsde la vieencore un momenttenez-lui compagnie

fleuves et ocansl'ont laiss pour vivantau ru de Courtablonprs la Mare-Chaudron

de pied fermetout en n'attendant plusil se passe devantallant sans but

208

-

-

-

*

209

*sitt sorti de l'ermitagece fut le calme aprs l'orage

l'instant de s'entendre direne plus en avoir pour longtempsla vie lui enfin sourirese mit de toutes ses dents

la nuit venue o l'me allaitenfin lui tre rclamevoil-t-il pas qu'incontinentil la rendit une heure avant

pas davantagede souvenirs qu' l'ged'avril un jourd'un jour

son ombre une nuitlui reparuts'allongea plitse dissolut

210

*

211

noire surqui es aux enfers tort tranchantet traversqu'est-ce que tu attends

comme au

berceautoute parole muecomme au

berceaufolie nouveau mine

*

c'est l'heuredu voirle curparti

bout de songes un bouquinau gte dire adieu astreintde chasse lasse ft exprsd'oublier le chandelier

212

213

le nain nonagnairedans un dernier murmurede grce au moins une biregrandeur nature

ne verra t'il jamaisfinir la nuito l'me luisera rclame

qu' lever la ttec'est la beaut

qu' la leverqu' lalever

par une faille dans l'inexistences'infiltrent des miasmes d'oxygnedans le silence du pseudo-silencedans l pnombre pur bonheur peine

lui son gelui faire a luisacr canallacrymal

*

one dead of nightin the dead stillhe looked upfrom his book

from that darkto pore on other dark

till afartaper faintthe eyes

in the dead still

till afarhis book as bya hand not hisa hand on hisfaintly closed

for good or ill

for good and ill

Stuttgart26.6.1977

216

26.6.1977

217

19871989

BRIEF DREAM

go end thereone fine daywhere never till thentill as much as to sayno matter whereno matter when

218

19871989

219

Go where never beforeNo sooner there than there alwaysNo matter where never beforeNo sooner there than there always

220

221

COMMENT DIRE

folie folie que de que de comment dire folie que de ce depuis folie depuis ce donn folie donn ce que de vu

folie vu ce ce

comment dire ceci ce ceci ceci-ci tout ce ceci-ci folie donn tout ce vu

folie vu tout ce ceci-ci que deque de comment dire voir entrevoir croire entrevoir

222

-

223

vouloir croire entrevoir folie que de vouloir croire entrevoir quoi quoi comment dire et o que de vouloir croire entrevoir quoi o o comment dire l l-bas loin loin l l-bas peine loin l l-bas peine quoi quoi comment dire vu tout ceci tout ce ceci-ci folie que de voir quoi entrevoir croire entrevoir vouloir croire entrevoir loin l l-bas peine quoi folie que d'y vouloir croire entrevoir quoi -

quoi comment dire

comment dire

29.10.1988

-

29.10.1988

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they comedifferent and the samewith each it is different and the samewith each the absence of love is differentwith each the absence of love is the same

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258

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my way is in the sand flowingbetween the shingle and the dunethe summer rain rains on my lifeon me my life harrying fleeingto its beginning to its endmy peace is there in the receding mistwhen I may cease from treading these long shifting thresholdsand live the space of a doorthat opens and shuts

...

1948 . - (1948 .). :

what would I do without this world faceless incuriouswhere to be lasts but an instant where every instantspills in the void the ignorance of having beenwithout this wave where in the endbody and shadow together are engulfedwhat would I do without this silence where the murmurs diethe pantings the frenzies towards succour towards lovewithout this sky that soars

262

above its ballast dustwhat would I do what I did yesterday and the day beforepeering out of my deadlight looking for anotherwandering like me eddying far from all the livingin a convulsive spaceamong the voices voicelessthat throng my hiddenness

...

1948 . - (1948 ). ,

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I would like my love to dieand the rain to be raining on the graveyardand on me walking the streetsmourning her who thought she loved me

1953

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263

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265

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(commmore Taylor, Stuttgart Neckar), - {guette , ). . -, de Courtabion, , (rue Courtalon), , .

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266

19871989

1989 . - (2002).

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1989 . (2002).

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What Is the Wordfolly folly for to for to what is the word folly from this all this folly from all this given folly given all this seeing folly seeing all this this -what is the word

267

this this this this here all this this here folly given all this seeing folly seeing all this this here for to what is the word see glimpse seem to glimpse need to seem to glimpse folly for to need to seem to glimpse what what is the word and where folly for to need to seem to glimpse what where -where what is the word there over there away over there afar afar away over there afaint afaint afar away over there what what what is the word seeing all this all this this all this this here folly for to see what glimpse seem to glimpse need to seem to glimpse afaint afar away over there what

268

folly for to need to seem to glimpse afaintafar away over there what

what what is the word what is the word

821.111 84(4)

42

(, )

www. irelandliterature. cominfo @irelandliterature. com

ISBN 978-5-7516-0861-3

Samuel Beckett. Poems 19301989First published in 2002 by Calder Publications Ltd., LondonCopyright 2002 Samuel Beckett Estate , , , 2010

1930-1989

SAMUEL BECKETTPOEMS

1930-1989

. .

. .

..

..

.

42 19301989 / ; . . . . . ; . . ., . . .

.: , 2010. - 269, [3] .

ISBN 978-5-7516-0861-3

-

1930 1989

XX . -

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821.111 84(4)

10.11.09 . 70 108 -. . . 11,9. .-. . 8,91.

3000 . . 895. 1232.

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