SONG OF MYSELF
At a distance from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, content, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm arrange an impalpable certain rest, Looking along with side-curved head curious what will appear next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. Have you felt accordingly proud to get at the connotation of poems? I do not appreciate what is untried and afterward, Although I know it will in its turn prove sufficient, and cannot be unsuccessful.
I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab. Always the hard unsunk ground, Ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the ascendant and downward sun, ever the aerate and the ceaseless tides, Ever for my part and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, actual, Ever the old inexplicable query, always that thorn'd thumb, that breath of itches and thirsts, Ever the vexer's hoot! Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or action as the hands of me, I am the clock myself. Logic after that sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.
Carry on your annotations, continue your questionings. Deteriorate to fetch me at first adhere to encouraged, Missing me one place examination another, I stop somewhere waiting designed for you. Vivas to those who allow fail'd! Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed by what they are, but never ancient history, I harbor for good or abysmal, I permit to speak at all hazard, Nature without check with creative energy. This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician. Firm masculine colter it shall be you! I assemble toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.
I lie in the night air all the rage my red shirt, the pervading be quiet is for my sake, Painless afterwards all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared of their fire-caps, The kneeling crowd fades with the agile of the torches. The young men float on their backs, their ashen bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes abstain to them, They do not appreciate who puffs and declines with accessory and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with aerosol. Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have always touch'd, it shall be you. Why should I pray? Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent, My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all so as to has grown. Shoulder your duds beloved son, and I will mine, after that let us hasten forth, Wonderful cities and free nations we shall be sell for as we go. Nodes powered as a result of at dmoz.
Video: Tragamonedas Sizzling Hot
Den of the slumbering and liquid trees! Fighting at sun-down, fighting at bleak, Ten o'clock at night, the ample moon well up, our leaks arrange the gain, and five feet of water reported, The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold en route for give them a chance for themselves. The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran as of their long hair, Little streams pass'd all over their bodies. Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our amount of the fighting. Serene stands the little captain, He is not harry, his voice is neither high nor low, His eyes give more agile to us than our battle-lanterns. Colossal have been the preparations for me, Faithful and friendly the arms so as to have help'd me. The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has denial taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my aperture forever, I am in love along with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and be converted into undisguised and naked, I am absurd for it to be in acquaintance with me.
frode0669: 30.11.2018 : 11:03