慌原(艾略特)

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III. THE FIRE SERMON 173 The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf 174 Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind 175 Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. 176 Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. 177 The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, 178 Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends 179 Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. 180 And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; 181 Departed, have left no addresses. 182 By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept ... 183 Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, 184 Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. 185 But at my back in a cold blast I hear 186 The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

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187 A rat crept softly through the vegetation 188 Dragging its slimy belly on the bank 189 While I was fishing in the dull canal 190 On a winter evening round behind the gashouse 191 Musing upon the king my brother's wreck 192 And on the king my father's death before him. 193 White bodies naked on the low damp ground 194 And bones cast in a little low dry garret, 195 Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year. 196 But at my back from time to time I hear 197 The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring 198 Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring. 199 O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter 200 And on her daughter 201 They wash their feet in soda water 202 Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

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203 Twit twit twit 204 Jug jug jug jug jug jug 205 So rudely forc'd. 206 Tereu 207 Unreal City 208 Under the brown fog of a winter noon 209 Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant 210 Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants 211 C.i.f. London: documents at sight, 212 Asked me in demotic French 213 To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel 214 Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

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215 At the violet hour, when the eyes and back 216 Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits 217 Like a taxi throbbing waiting, 218 I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, 219 Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see 220 At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 221 Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, 222 The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights 223 Her stove, and lays out food in tins. 224 Out of the window perilously spread 225 Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays, 226 On the divan are piled (at night her bed) 227 Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. 228 I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs 229 Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest-- 230 I too awaited the expected guest. 231 He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, 232 A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare, 233 One of the low on whom assurance sits 234 As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire. 235 The time is now propitious, as he guesses, 236 The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, 237 Endeavours to engage her in caresses 238 Which still are unreproved, if undesired. 239 Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; 240 Exploring hands encounter no defence; 241 His vanity requires no response, 242 And makes a welcome of indifference. 243 (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all 244 Enacted on this same divan or bed; 245 I who have sat by Thebes below the wall 246 And walked among the lowest of the dead.) 247 Bestows one final patronising kiss, 248 And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit ...

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249 She turns and looks a moment in the glass, 250 Hardly aware of her departed lover; 251 Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: 252 "Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over." 253 When lovely woman stoops to folly and 254 Paces about her room again, alone, 255 She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, 256 And puts a record on the gramophone. 257 "This music crept by me upon the waters" 258 And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street. 259 O City city, I can sometimes hear 260 Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 261 The pleasant whining of a mandoline 262 And a clatter and a chatter from within 263 Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls 264 Of Magnus Martyr hold 265 Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

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266 The river sweats 267 Oil and tar 268 The barges drift 269 With the turning tide 270 Red sails 271 Wide 272 To leeward, swing on the heavy spar. 273 The barges wash 274 Drifting logs 275 Down Greenwich reach 276 Past the Isle of Dogs. 277 Weialala leia 278 Wallala leialala 279 Elizabeth and Leicester 280 Beating oars 281 The stern was formed 282 A gilded shell 283 Red and gold 284 The brisk swell 285 Rippled both shores 286 Southwest wind 287 Carried down stream 288 The peal of bells 289 White towers 290 Weialala leia 291 Wallala leialala

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292 "Trams and dusty trees. 293 Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew 294 Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees 295 Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe." 296 "My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart 297 Under my feet. After the event 298 He wept. He promised `a new start.' 299 I made no comment. What should I resent?" 300 "On Margate Sands. 301 I can connect 302 Nothing with nothing. 303 The broken fingernails of dirty hands. 304 My people humble people who expect 305 Nothing." 306 la la 307 To Carthage then I came 308 Burning burning burning burning 309 O Lord Thou pluckest me out 310 O Lord Thou pluckest

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IV. DEATH BY WATER 312 Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, 313 Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell 314 And the profit and loss. 315 A current under sea 316 Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell 317 He passed the stages of his age and youth 318 Entering the whirlpool. 319 Gentile or Jew 320 O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 321 Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

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V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID 322 After the torchlight red on sweaty faces 323 After the frosty silence in the gardens 324 After the agony in stony places 325 The shouting and the crying 326 Prison and palace and reverberation 327 Of thunder of spring over distant mountains 328 He who was living is now dead 329 We who were living are now dying 330 With a little patience

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331 Here is no water but only rock 332 Rock and no water and the sandy road 333 The road winding above among the mountains 334 Which are mountains of rock without water 335 If there were water we should stop and drink 336 Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think 337 Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand 338 If there were only water amongst the rock 339 Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit 340 Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 341 There is not even silence in the mountains 342 But dry sterile thunder without rain 343 There is not even solitude in the mountains 344 But red sullen faces sneer and snarl 345 From doors of mudcracked houses