what ifyou liketo drawbig flowers,
but whatif somesage hastold youthatthere isnothingmore beautiful
nothingmorebeautiful
than astraightline?
what shouldyou draw:big flowers?straight lines?
i thinkyou shoulddraw
bigflowers
bigflowers
big
flowersbigflowers
bigflowers
bigflowers
bigflowers
bigflowers
until
theybecome
astraight
line
arfarf!(silence)arfarf!(silence)arfarfarfarf!
Say this city has ten million souls,
Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:
Yet there's no place for us, my dear, yet there's no place for us.
Once we had a country and we thought it fair,
Look in the atlas and you'll find it there:
We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.
In the village churchyard there grows an old yew,
Every spring it blossoms anew;
Old passports can't do that, my dear, old passports can't do that.
The consul banged the table and said:
'If you've got no passport, you're officially dead';
But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive.
Went to a committee; they offered me a chair;
Asked me politely to return next year:
But where shall we go today, my dear, but where shall we go today?
Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said:
'If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread';
He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me.
Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky;
It was Hitler over Europe, saying: 'They must die';
We were in his mind, my dear, we were in his mind.
Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin,
Saw a door opened and a cat let in:
But they weren't German Jews, my dear, but they weren't German Jews.
Went down the harbour and stood upon the quay,
Saw the fish swimming as if they were free:
Only ten feet away, my dear, only ten feet away.
Walked through a wood, saw the birds in the trees;
They had no politicians and sang at their ease:
They weren't the human race, my dear, they weren't the human race.
Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors,
A thousand windows and a thousand doors;
Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours.
Stood on a great plain in the falling snow;
Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro:
Looking for you and me, my dear, looking for you and me.
Sir, no man's enemy, forgiving all But will his negative inversion, be prodigal: Send to us power and light, a sovereign touch Curing the intolerable neural itch, The exhaustion of weaning, the liar's quinsy, And the distortions of ingrown virginity. Prohibit sharply the rehearsed response And gradually correct the coward's stance; Cover in time with beams those in retreat That, spotted, they turn though the reverse were great; Publish each healer that in city lives Or country houses at the end of drives; Harrow the house of the dead; look shining at New styles of architecture, a change of heart.
I saw the hawk ride updraft in the sunset over Wyoming.It rose from coniferous darkness, past gray jagsOf mercilessness, past whiteness, into the gloamingOf dream-spectral light above the lazy purity of snow-snags.There--west--were the Tetons. Snow-peaks would soon beIn dark profile to break constellations. Beyond what heightHangs now the black speck? Beyond what range will gold eyes seeNew ranges rise to mark a last scrawl of light?Or, having tasted that atmosphere’s thinness, does itHang motionless in dying vision beforeIt knows it will accept the mortal limit,And swing into the great circular downwardness that will restoreThe breath of earth? Of rock? Of rot? Of other suchItems, and the darkness of whatever dream we clutch?
