Παρασκευή, 21 Μαρτίου 2014

Συνείδηση

Το απόσπασμά αυτό από το ποιήμα του Walt Whitman το διάβασα και μου ήρθε στο μυαλό η λέξη "συνείδηση".

6...

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 mouths

O 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 takes
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, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier. 

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