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letra de death's echo - juliana hall

“o who can ever gaze his fill,”
farmer and fisherman say
“on native shore and local hill
grudge aching limb or callus on the hand?
father, grandfather stood upon this land
and here the pilgrims from our loins will stand.”
so farmer and fisherman say
in their fortunate hey-day:
but death’s low answer drifts across
empty catch or harvest loss
or an unlucky may
the earth is an oyster with nothing inside it
not to be born is the best for man;
the end of toil is a bailiff’s order
throw down the mattock and dance while you can

“o life’s too short for friends who share,”
travellers think in their hearts
“thе city’s common bed, the air
the mountain bivouac and thе bathing beach
where incidents draw every day from each
memorable gesture and witty speech.”
so travellers think in their hearts
till malice or circumstance parts
them from their constant humour:
and slyly death’s coercive rumour
in that moment starts
a friend is the old tale of narcissus
not to be born is the best for man;
an active partner in something disgraceful
change your partner, dance while you can
“o stretch your hands across the sea.”
the impassioned lover cries
“stretch them towards your harm and me
our grass is green, and sensual our brief bed
the stream sings at its foot, and at its head
the mild and vegetarian beasts are fed.”
so the impassioned lover cries
till the storm of pleasure dies:
from the bedposts and the rocks
death’s enticing echo mocks
and his voice replies
the greater the love, the more false to its object
not to be born is the best for man;
after the kiss comes the impulse to throttle
break the embraces, dance while you can

“i see the guilty world forgiven,”
dreamer and drunkard sing
“the ladders let down out of heaven
the laurel springing from the martyr’s blood
the children skipping where the weeper stood
the lovers natural and beasts all good.”
so dreamer and drunkard sing
till day their sobriety bring:
parrotwise with death’s reply
from whelping fear and nesting lie
woods and their echoes ring
the desires of the heart are as crooked as corkscrews
not to be born is the best for man;
the second-best is a formal order
dance, dance, for the figure is easy
the tune is catching and will not stop;
dance till the stars come down from the rafters;
dance, dance, dance till you drop

- juliana hall

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