T. S. Eliot - The Waste Land (Jeremy Irons & Eileen Atkins)

the wasteland by TS Eliot won the burial of the dead April is the cruelest month breeding lilacs out of the dead land mixing memory and desire stirring dull roots with spring rain winter kept us warm covering earth in forgetful snow feeding a little life with dried tubers summer surprised us coming over the Strand Burgers a with a shower of rain we stopped in the colonnade and went on in sunlight into the hoff garden and drank coffee and talked for an hour Ginga keine russin stahma slit Allan s Doge and when we were children staying at the Archduke's my cousins he took me out on a sled and I was frightened he said Mari Mari 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 what are the roots that clutch what branches grow out of this stony rubbish son of man you cannot say or guess for you know only a heap of broken images where the Sun beats and the dead tree gives no shelter the cricket no relief and the dry stone no sound of water only there is shadow under this red rock come in under the shadow of this red rock and I will show you something different from either your shadow at morning striding behind you or your shadow at evening rising to meet you I will show you fear in a handful of dust fresh wait event there hi mitsu mine Irish King volvulus doom you gave me hyacinths first a year ago they called me the hyacinth girl yet when we came back late from the hyacinth garden your arms full and your hair wet I could not speak and my eyes failed I was neither living nor dead and I knew nothing looking into the heart of light the silence would unclear the smear mud abscess oestrus famous clairvoyant had a bad cold nevertheless is known to be the wisest woman in Europe with a wicked pack of cards here said she is your card the Drowned Phoenician sailor those are pearls that were his eyes look here is belladonna the lady of the rocks the Lady of situations here is the man with three staves and here the wheel and here is the one-eyed merchant and this card which is blank is something he carries on his back which I'm forbidden to see I do not find the hanged man fear death by water I see crowds of people walking round in a ring thank you if you see dear mrs. equit own tell her I bring the horoscope myself one must be so careful these days unreal city under the brown fog of a winter dawn a crowd flowed over London Bridge so many I had not thought death had undone so many sighs short and infrequent were exhaled and each man fixed his eyes before his feet flowed up the hill and down King William Street to where's Aunt Mary will not kept the hours with a dead sound on the final stroke of nine there I saw one I knew and stopped him crying Stetson you who were with me in the ships of my leave that corpse who planted last year in your garden has it begun to sprout will it bloom this year or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed or keep the dog far hence that's friend to men or with his nails he'll dig it up again you hypocrite Lecter more some table more flair to a game of chess the chair she sat in like a burnished throne glowed on the marble where the glass held up by standards wrought with fruited vines from which a golden Cupidon peeped out another hid his eyes behind his wing doubled the flames of seven-branched candelabra reflecting lights upon the table as the glitter of her jewels rose to meet it from satin cases poured in rich profusion in vials of ivory and colored glass unstop lurked her strange synthetic perfumes unguent powdered or liquid troubled confused and drowned the sense in odors stirred by the air that freshened from the window these ascended in fattening the prolonged candle flames flung their smoke into the Lacroix Riya stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling huge sea wood fed with copper burned green and orange framed by the colored stone in which sad light a carved dolphin swam above the antique mantel was displayed as though a window gave upon the Sylvan scene the change of fill Annelle by the barbarous King so rudely forced yet there the nightingale filled all the desert with inviolable voice and still she cried and still the world pursues jug jug the dirty ears and other withered stumps of time were told upon the walls staring forms leaned out leaning hushing the room in closed footsteps shuffled on the stair under the firelight under the brush her hair spread out in fiery points glowed into words and then would be savagely still my nerves are bad tonight yes bad stay with me speak to me why do you never speak speak what are you thinking of what thinking what I never know what you are thinking think I think we're in rats alley where the dead men lost their bones what is that noise the wind under the door what is that noise now what is the wind doing nothing again nothing do you know nothing do you see nothing do you remember nothing I remember those are pearls that were his eyes are you alive or not is there nothing in your head but oh oh oh oh that Shakespearean rag it's so elegant so intelligent what shall I do now what shall I do I shall rush out as I am and walk the street with my hair down so what should we do tomorrow what shall we ever do the hot water at 10:00 and if it rains a closed car at 4:00 and we shall play a game of chess pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door when Nils husband got demobbed I said I didn't mince my words I said to her myself Aria please it's time now Albert's coming back make yourself a bit smart you'll want to know what you've done with that money he gave you to get yourself some teeth he did I was there you have them all out lil and get a nice set he said I swear I can't bear to look at you and no more can tire said and think of poor Albert he's been in the Army for years he wants a good time and if you don't give it him there's others will I said oh is there she said something of that I said then I'll know who to thank she said and give me a straight look hurry up please it's time if you don't like it you can get on with it I said others can pick and choose if you can't but if Albert makes off it won't be for lack of telling you ought to be ashamed I said to look so antique and are only 31 I can't help it she said pull in a long face is them pills I took to bring it off she said she's had five already and nearly died of young George the chemist said it would be all right but I've never been the same you are a proper fool I said well if Albert won't leave you alone there it is I said what you get married for if you don't want children hurry up please at a time well that Sunday Albert was home they had a hot gammon and they asked me into dinner to get the beauty of it hot hurry up please it's time hurry up please it's time good night bill cannot Luca night my good I tell her good night good night good night ladies good night sweet ladies good night good night three the fire sermon the rivers tent is broken the last fingers of leaf clutch and sink into the wet Bank the wind crosses the brown land unheard the nymphs are departed sweet Thames run softly till I end my song the river bears no empty bottles sandwich papers silk handkerchiefs cardboard boxes cigarette ends or other testimony of summer nights the nymphs are departed and their friends the lawyering heirs of City directors departed have left now addresses by the waters of Lehmann I sat down and wept sweet Thames run softly till I end by song sweet Thames run softly for I speak not loud or long but at my back in a cold blast I hear the rattle of the bones and chuckles spread from ear to ear a rat crept softly through the vegetation dragging its slimy belly on the bank while I was fishing in the doll canal on a winter evening round behind the gas house musing upon the king my brother's wreck and on the King my father's death before him white bodies naked on the low damp ground and bones cast in a little load dry Garret rattled by the rats foot only year to year but at my back from time to time I hear the sound of horns and motors which shall bring Sweeney to mrs. Porter in the spring o the moon shine bright on mrs. Porter and on her daughter they washed their feet and sewed whoooaa IDO say why don't fall short on don the coop old twit twit twit chug chug chug chug chug chug so rudely forced to rue unreal city under the brown fog of a winter noon mr. Eugenia DS the smyrna merchant unshaven with a pocketful of currants CIF London documents at site asked me in demotic French to luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel followed by a weekend at the Metropole at the violet hour when the eyes and back turn upward from the desk when the human engine waits like a taxi throbbing waiting i tidy seus though blind throbbing between two lives old man with wrinkled female breasts can see at the violet hour the evening our that strives Homewood and brings the Sailor home from see the typist home at tea time clears her breakfast lights a stove and lays out food in tins out of the window pedal II spread her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays on the divan are piled at night her bed stockings slippers camisoles and stays I Tiresias old man with wrinkled Doug's perceived the scene and foretold the rest I too awaited the expected guest he the young man carbon killer arrives a small house agents Clark with one bold stare one of the low on whom assurance it's at a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire the time is now propitious as he guesses the meal is ended she is bored and tired endeavours to engage her in caresses which still are unrepresented he assaults at once exploring hands encounter no defense his vanity requires no response and makes a welcome of indifference and I Tiresias have four suffered all enacted on the same divan or bed I who have sat by thebes below the wall and walked among the lowest of the dead the stove's one final patronizing kiss and groped his way finding the stairs unlit she turns and looks a moment in the glass hardly aware of her departed lover her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass well now that's done and I'm glad it's over when lovely woman Stoops to Folly and paces about her room again alone she smooths her hair with automatic hand and puts a record on the gramophone this music crept by me on the waters and along the Strand up Queen Victoria Street Oh city's City I can sometimes hear beside a public bar in lower Thames Street the pleasant whining of a mandolin and the clatter and a chatter from within where fishmen lounge at noon where the walls of Magnus Marta hold inexplicable splendor of Ionian white and gold the river sweats oil and tar the barges drift with the turning tide red sails wide to Lords swing on the heavy spar the barges wash drifting logs down Greenwich reach past the Isle of Dogs way la la la I ah voila la la la la Elizabeth and Lester beating oars the stern was formed a gilded shell red and gold the brisk swell rippled both Shores southwest wind carried downstream the peal of bells white towers why I la la la i ah while I on AI la la trams and dusty trees Highbury bore me Richmond and queue undid me by Richmond I raised my knees supine on the floor of a narrow canoe my feet are at Moorgate and my heart under my feet after the event he wept he promised a new start I made no comment what should I resent on Margate sans I can connect nothing with nothing the broken fingernails of dirty hands my people humble people who expect nothing la la to Carthage then I came burning burning burning burning Oh Lord thou cast me out Oh Lord thou pluckiest burning for death by water fleebus the phoenicians a fortnight dead forgot the cry of gulls and the deep sea swell and the profit and loss a current under sea picked his bones in whispers as he rose and fell he passed the stages of his age and youth entering the whirlpool Gentile or Jew oh you who turned the wheel and look to windward consider fleebus who was once handsome and tall as you 5 what the Thunder said after the torchlight read on sweaty faces after the frosty silence in the gardens after the agony and stony places for shouting and the crying prison and palace and reverberation of thunder of spring over distant mountains he who was living is now dead we who were living are now dying with a little patience here is no water but only rock rock and no water and the sandy Road the road winding above among the mountains which are mountains of rock without water if there were water we should stop and drink amongst the rock one cannot stop or think sweat is dry and feet her in the sand if there were only water amongst the rock dead mountain mouths of carriers teeth that cannot spit here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit there is not even silence in the mountains but dry sterile Thunder without rain that is not even solitude in the mountains but red sullen faces sneer and snarl from doors of mud cracked houses if there were water and no rock if there were rock and also water and water a spring a pool among the rock if there were the sound of water only not the Secada and dry grass singing but sound of water over a rock where the hermit thrush sings in the pine trees drip drop drip drop drop drop drop but there is no water who is the third who walks always beside you when I can't there are only you and I together but when I look ahead up the white road there is always another one walking beside you gliding wrapped in a brown mantle hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman but who is that on the other side of you what is that sound high in the air murmur of maternal lamentation who were those hooded hordes swarming over endless Plains stumbling in cracked earth ringed by the flat horizon only what is the city over the mountains cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air falling towers Jerusalem Athens Alexandria Vienna London unreal a woman drew her long black hair out tight and fiddled whisper music on those strings and bats with baby faces in the violet light whistled and beat their wings and crawled head downward on a blackened wall and upside down in air were towers tolling reminiscent bells that kept the hours and voices singing out of empty systems and exhausted valves in this decayed hole among the mountains in the faint moonlight the grass is singing over the tumbled graves about the chapel there is the empty chapel only the winds home it has no windows and the door swings dry bones can harm no one only a stood on the roof tree Coco Rico Coco Rico in a flash of lightning then a damp gust bringing rain Ganga was sunken and the limp leaves waited for rain while the black clouds gathered far distant over him event the jungle crouched humped in silence then spoke the thunder da gita' what have we given my friend blood shaking my heart the awful daring of a moment's surrender which an age of prudence can never retract by this and this only we have existed which is not to be found in our obituaries or in memories draped by the beneficent spider or under seals broken by the lean solicitor in our empty rooms dah diet vom I have heard the key turn in the door once and turn once only we think of the key each in his prison thinking of the key each confirms a prison only at nightfall ethereal rumors revived for a moment a broken Coriolanus dong dong yatta the boat responded gaily to the hand expert with sail and oar the sea was calm your heart would have responded gaily when invited beating obediently to controlling hands i sat upon the shore fishing with the arid plain behind me shall I at least set my lands in order London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down voices kaze no for cocaine afina Randolph Jung ko kaledin Oh swallow swallow the plastic retain a lot or a Bali these fragments I have shored against my ruins why then I'll hit you hieronymus mad again guitar diode van damme yatta shanty shut shanthi

Channel: jssmrenton

Views: 92,714

Rating: 4.9038143 out of 5

Keywords: ts eliot, the waste land, wasteland, waste land, poem, poetry, ww1, world war, jeremy irons, eileen atkins, reading, audiobook

Id: sYROFY_Kh8M

Length: 27min 44sec (1664 seconds)

Published: Sat Jan 21 2017

Reddit Comments

[u/Dr_Chernobyl]

I love the Fire Sermon