Monday, October 18, 2010

“Conscience, dimm'd or by its own
Or other's shame, will feel thy saying sharp.
Thou, notwithstanding, all deceit remov'd,
See the whole vision be made manifest.
And let them wince who have their withers wrung.
What though, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove
Unwelcome, on digestion it will turn
To vital nourishment.

How the beasts of the wood till now shy but snarl and tear

Upon abrupt fire and when the earth quakes
They seek to crowd themselves neighborly:

So in a home split upon the cry WAR they close on their opponent ... one breath

of the unknown empathy pervades
from layer to layer and a confused premonation
What well begins ... for a moment

Grasp from the wordly high shower
Forget the cowardly year mop and bauble
The people saw yourself greeat in their need

They came to the settler on the mountain:
'you stand so calmly at these monsters?"
Who said: this chill was the most noble...!
I'm long accustomed to what shakes you.
I have sweat the long red sweat of fear
as one plays with fire.. my tears
foretold weeping... Today I find no more
Most of what happened no one saw...
The darkness first belongs to him no one sees.
For ye suffer it pressing from outer mass...
These are the signs of fire . not the deed.
Upon this fight as you feel it I take no part.

Never will the Seer be thanked... he meets scorn
And stones . he speaks calamity -- anger and stones
When it came on. Accumulated crime
Named from every compulsion and joy - concealed
Human waste to crave larval expiation..
What are a hundred thousand murders to HIM
Before murder of life itself? He won't enthuse
in domestic virtue and of whichever malice.
Here the wife has her complaint -- the wealthy burgher.
The gray beard and honest blame rather than random bullet
In the opposing parts of our sons' and grandsons'
glazed eyes and mangled bodies.

HIS office is praise and - distantly prayer and atonement
He loves and serves along his way. The youngest
The dearest he sends out with every good wish..
They know what drives her and what she values..
They come to no name -- no order.
HE grasps deep horror. The powers
he calls not fable. Whoever understands his prayers:
Want to warn us against too easy a solution
And from the worst -- before the scandal of blood!> Tribes
which they perpetrate are haplessly eradicated
If their best good is not sent into exile.

Joy is not seemly: no triumph will be
Only many will perish without worth..
Of the creator's hand rest arbitrarily escapes
Formlessness of lead and tin - frame and pipe.
Who himself laughs if false hero tales
From the former like mush and clump
Who saw his brother sink - who in the shameful
Rumpled earth lived like vermin..
The old god of battle is no more.
Feeble worlds enfeever themselves to end
in the bluster. Only the juices are holy
Still untainted squirting -- a whole current.

Where is the man who represents himself? the word
That is only valid for the later tribunal?
Mock King with a stage crown -
Trustee - dealer - clerk -- paid and whistled.
Also limited in securitized order: tumbling -
Then threatening confusion .. there emerged supported
From his stock colorless pre-ordered home
The most sallow of our cities a forgotten
Unartful old man... who found the advice of the hour
And saved what the gesticulative proclaimed
Finally brought to the precipice: was enough...
But could not save it from the worst enemy.

>Did you fail to see such a mass of victims
And power of everything?< These are also over there.
The necessary work of duty remains blunt and dull
And victim rise not in wicked time..
Abundance (Menge) is value - truly aimless - makes no symbol -
Has no consciousness - What do the wise ask?
Sie fall in nattering and wellfare -- humanity
And raise high the most horrible carnage.
After spittle lowest courtship: drool
Meanest dishonor! ... and even what it hunts
slinking to nuzzle even as it were be raised
Fearful of some future face.

And what bloats like spirit! Such tender tumour
has away its being ... Like bad fruit
tastes the talk of reviving marriage
In withering tone. Who was old yesterday
Doesn't return home as young and who speaks rightly
And errs at last falls in the deepest madness.
Aberqitz says: >We'll learn that for next time.<
Ah this on the other hand is otherwise!... for that prepares
Only the fullest repentance: most inner sense.
None today call and mean to guide
Notices as he reaches to destiny -- no one
Descries a mere gleam of the sunrise.

Very few wonder that so many die
As that so many dare to live. Who is online
with the century may only see ghosts.
He helps himself -- child and fool: >You had wanted it.<
All and none - is the quick decision.
He lies -- crook and fool: >This time the Kingdom of
Peace surely beckons.< The deadline elapses: they must
Wait again till the ankle to the knee
In the must of a great cellar ... but then a budding
shot forth - that has no false eye:
He has the eye of fate of terror
Whose iron joints Gorgons don't turn to stone

In both camps no though -- atmosphere
Near it is ... Here: care only hucksters
Who are already selling to another... only to be
What one reviles in the other and to betray in himself
>A people is dead when their gds are dead<
Behind: a knock from the past antecedes
Of pomp and virtue -- while passion for utility
Wants calm breathing... in the lap of the lightest
Intuition no weak twinkle - that the disdained
What was was fruitful was destroyed - that perhaps
A >>Hate and abhorrence of human kind<<
Brings salvation a second time.

Really this song will not end with malediction. Some ear
Understand already my value of things and blood -
On kernel and seed...already I see some hands
Stretched against me - I say: o Land,
Too beautiful thou art to be trod and soil'd with foreign feet:
Where flutes play from the wild wood - from groves the rustling
Windharps play - where the dream still weaves
Untilled by till now faithless descendants ...
Where the ever-blooming mother has become overgrown
Decomposing white Kind at once revealing
Her true face ... Land of much promise
Still immanent -- so that it will never fail!

The youth call upon the gods.. Arise
As the eternal fills after days ...Rod
In storm clouds give to Him of the joyous heavens
The scepter and push away Longest Winter.
Who blew wan souls -- to the fragmented
In the fervent flitter as well.. Apollo leans
Close to Baldur: >Night still lasts a while -
But for this time the light does not come from the East.<
The battle is already decided in the stars: Victor
Remains who holds that talisman of his frontiers
And future's Master is who can change throughout years.

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