Ravns julkalender 9. december...
Edgar Lee Masters.
1869-1950
Det ser ut som det kommer bli många dikt i min julkalender...
Kanske inte så konstigt iom at jag tycker om dikt,
och at dom ofta framstiller känslor på et mer fattbart
sätt än vad jag själv kan fömedla..
I dag kommer en hel bok.
Edgar Lee Masters Spoon River Anthology från 1916...
Där 244 avdöda innvånare i den ficktiva staden Spoon River
förteller om sitt liv post mortem...
Jag tycker den är fantastisk !!!
Ni får första dikten här....resten länkar jag til...
Enjoy =)
1. The hill.
Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley,
The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter ?
All, all are sleeping on the hill.
One passed in a fever,
Onewas burned i a mine,
One was killed in a brawl.
One died in jail,
One felled from a bridge toiling for children and wife-
All, all are sleeping, sleeping on the hill.
Where are Ella, Kate, Mag , Lizzie and Edith,
The tender heart, the simple soul,the loud, the proud, the happy one ?
All, all are sleeping on the hill.
One died in shamefull childbirth.
One of a twarted love.
One at the hands of a brute in a brothel.
One of a broken pride, in the serch for heart's desire.
One after life in far-away London and Paris.
Was brought to her little space by Ella, and Kate and Mag-
All, all are sleeping,sleeping,sleeping on the hill.
Where are Unckle Isac and aunt Emily ?
And old Towny Kincaid and Sevigne Houghton,
And Major Walker who had talked
with venerable men of the revolution ?
All, all are sleeping on the hill.
They brought them dead sons from the war.
And doughters whom life had crushed.
And theire children, fatherless, crying-
All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.
Where is old Fiddeler Jones,
Who played with life all his ninety years,
Braving the sleet with beared brest,
Drinking, rioting, thinking neither of wife nor kin.
Nor gold, nor love, nor heaven ?
Lo! he babbles of the fish frys of long ago,
Of the horse - races of long ago at Clary's grove,
Of what Abe Lincoln said,
One time at Springfield.
http://www.bartleby.com/84/index1.html
Läs dom andra här....
1869-1950
Det ser ut som det kommer bli många dikt i min julkalender...
Kanske inte så konstigt iom at jag tycker om dikt,
och at dom ofta framstiller känslor på et mer fattbart
sätt än vad jag själv kan fömedla..
I dag kommer en hel bok.
Edgar Lee Masters Spoon River Anthology från 1916...
Där 244 avdöda innvånare i den ficktiva staden Spoon River
förteller om sitt liv post mortem...
Jag tycker den är fantastisk !!!
Ni får första dikten här....resten länkar jag til...
Enjoy =)
1. The hill.
Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley,
The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter ?
All, all are sleeping on the hill.
One passed in a fever,
Onewas burned i a mine,
One was killed in a brawl.
One died in jail,
One felled from a bridge toiling for children and wife-
All, all are sleeping, sleeping on the hill.
Where are Ella, Kate, Mag , Lizzie and Edith,
The tender heart, the simple soul,the loud, the proud, the happy one ?
All, all are sleeping on the hill.
One died in shamefull childbirth.
One of a twarted love.
One at the hands of a brute in a brothel.
One of a broken pride, in the serch for heart's desire.
One after life in far-away London and Paris.
Was brought to her little space by Ella, and Kate and Mag-
All, all are sleeping,sleeping,sleeping on the hill.
Where are Unckle Isac and aunt Emily ?
And old Towny Kincaid and Sevigne Houghton,
And Major Walker who had talked
with venerable men of the revolution ?
All, all are sleeping on the hill.
They brought them dead sons from the war.
And doughters whom life had crushed.
And theire children, fatherless, crying-
All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.
Where is old Fiddeler Jones,
Who played with life all his ninety years,
Braving the sleet with beared brest,
Drinking, rioting, thinking neither of wife nor kin.
Nor gold, nor love, nor heaven ?
Lo! he babbles of the fish frys of long ago,
Of the horse - races of long ago at Clary's grove,
Of what Abe Lincoln said,
One time at Springfield.
http://www.bartleby.com/84/index1.html
Läs dom andra här....
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