a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de st. matthew - d. h. lawrence

they are not all beasts
one is a man, for example, and one is a bird

i, matthew, am a man

“and i, if i be lifted up, will draw all men unto me”–

that is jesus
but then jesus was not quite a man
he was the son of man
filius meus, o remorseless logic
out of his own mouth
i, matthew, being a man
cannot be lifted up, the paraclete
to draw all men unto me
seeing i am on a par with all men

i, on the other hand
am drawn to the uplifted, as all men are drawn
to the son of man
_filius meus_

_wilt thou lift me up, son of man_?
how my heart beats!
i am man

i am man, and therefore my heart beats, and throws
the dark blood from side to side
all the time i am lifted up

yes, even during my uplifting

and if it ceased?
if it ceased, i should be no longer man
as i am, if my heart in uplifting ceased to beat, to toss the
dark blood from side to side, causing my myriad secret
streams
after the cessation
i might be a soul in bliss, an angel, approximating to the
uplifted;
but that is another matter;
i am matthew, the man
and i am not that other angelic matter

so i will be lifted up, saviour
but put me down again in time, master
before my heart stops beating, and i become what i am not
put me down again on the earth, jesus, on the brown soil
where flowers sprout in the acrid humus, and fade into
humus again
where beasts drop their unl!cked young, and pasture, and
drop their droppings among the turf
where the adder darts horizontal
down on the damp, unceasing ground, where my feet belong
and even my heart, lord, forever, after all uplifting:
the crumbling, damp, fresh land, life horizontal and ceaseless

matthew i am, the man
and i take the wings of the morning, to thee, crucified
glorified
but while flowers club their petals at evening
and rabbits make pills among the short grass
and long snakes quickly glide into the dark hole in the
wall, hearing man approach
i must be put down, lord, in the afternoon
and at evening i must leave off my wings of the spirit
as i leave off my braces
and i must resume my nakedness like a fish, sinking down
the dark reversion of night
like a fish seeking the bottom, jesus
icthus
face downwards
veering slowly
down between the steep slopes of darkness, fucus-dark
seaweed-fringed valleys of the waters under the sea
over the edge of the soundless cataract
into the fathomless, bottomless pit
where my soul falls in the last throes of bottomless convulsion
and is fallen
utterly beyond thee, dove of the spirit;
beyond everything, except itself
nay, son of man, i have been lifted up
to thee i rose like a rocket ending in mid-heaven
but even thou, son of man, canst not quaff out the dregs
of terrestrial manhood!
they fall back from thee

they fall back, and like a dripping of quicksilver taking the
downward track
break into drops, burn into drops of blood, and dropping
dropping take wing
membraned, blood-veined wings

on fans of unsuspected tissue, like bats
they thread and thrill and fl!cker ever downward
to the dark zenith of thine antipodes
jesus uplifted

bat-winged heart of man
reversed flame
shuddering a strange way down the bottomless pit
to the great depths of its reversed zenith

afterwards, afterwards
morning comes, and i shake the dews of night from the
wings of my spirit
and mount like a lark, beloved

but remember, saviour
that my heart which like a lark at heaven’s gate singing
hovers morning-bright to thee
throws still the dark blood back and forth
in the avenues where the bat hangs sleeping, upside-down
and to me undeniable, jesus

listen, paraclete
i can no more deny the bat-wings of my fathom-fl!ckering
spirit of darkness
than the wings of the morning and thee, thou glorified

i am matthew, the man:
it is understood
and thou art jesus, son of man
drawing all men unto thee, but bound to release them
when the hour strikes

i have been, and i have returned
i have mounted up on the wings of the morning, and i
have dredged down to the zenith’s reversal
which is my way, being man
gods may stay in mid-heaven, the son of man has climbed
to the whitsun zenith
but i, matthew, being a man
am a traveller back and forth
so be it

- d h lawrence

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS