The Waste Land HTML version

"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla
pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa:
apothanein thelo."
April is the cruellest month, breedingLilacs out of the dead land,
mixingMemory and desire, stirringDull roots with spring
rain.Winter kept us warm, coveringEarth in forgetful snow,
feedingA little life with dried tubers.Summer surprised us, coming
over the StarnbergerseeWith a shower of rain; we stopped in the
colonnade,And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10And
drank coffee, and talked for an hour.Bin gar keine Russin, stamm'
aus Litauen, echt deutsch.And when we were children, staying at
the archduke's,My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,And I was
frightened. He said, Marie,Marie, hold on tight. And down we
went.In the mountains, there you feel free.I read, much of the
night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches growOut of this stony
rubbish? Son of man, 20You cannot say, or guess, for you know
onlyA heap of broken images, where the sun beats,And the dead
tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,And the dry stone no
sound of water. OnlyThere is shadow under this red rock,(Come
in under the shadow of this red rock),And I will show you something
different from eitherYour shadow at morning striding behind youOr
your shadow at evening rising to meet you;I will show you fear in a
handful of dust. 30 Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat
zu Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du?"You gave me
hyacinths first a year ago;"They called me the hyacinth girl."- Yet
when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,Your arms full,
and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was
neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40Looking into the
heart of light, the silence.Od' und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,Had a bad cold,
neverthelessIs known to be the wisest woman in Europe,With a