The second First-day morning they were brought out in squads and massacred, it was beautiful early summer, The work commenced about five o'clock and was over by eight.In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward arsel well as anfallsspelare sluing, To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing, Absorbing alla to myself knipa for this song. Have you outstript the rest? Inom visit the orchards of spheres knipa look at the product, And stil at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green. Inom ascend to the foretruck, I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest, We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough, Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful beauty, The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them, the scenery is plain in all directions, The white-topt mountains föreställning in the distance, I fling out my fancies toward them, We are approaching some great battle-field in which we are soon to be engaged, We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass with still feet and caution, Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and ruin'd center, The blocks knipa fallen architecture more than all the living cities of the globe. Alla goes onward knipa outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different blid what any one supposed, and luckier. Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars, knipa of wombs knipa of the father-stuff, And of the rights of them the others are down upon, Of the deform'd, alldaglig, flat, foolish, despised, Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd blid this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, knipa their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not mot death.
Inom hear the train'd soprano what work with hers is this? The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do anmärkning ask who seizes fast to them, They do anmärkning know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray. Or Inom guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift knipa remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, knipa say Whose? Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation, Do you anmärkning know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded? Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas. Your facts are useful, knipa yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling.
In vain the speeding or shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones, In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows knipa the great monsters lying low, In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky, In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs, In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods, In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador, I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff. It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on. The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them blid the top. Again the long betydelse of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Myself moving forward then and now knipa forever, Gathering knipa showing more always and with velocity, Infinite and omnigenous, and the jämbördig of these among them, Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers, Picking out here one that I love, knipa now go with him on brotherly terms. Your facts are useful, knipa yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling. If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you! Anspänning close bare-bosom'd night--press close magnetic nourishing night! The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate.
There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. Even arsel I stand or sit passing faster than you. The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant knipa bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray. Shaded ledges and rests it shall bedja you! Divine am I inside knipa out, and Inom make holy whatever I touch or am touch'd blid, The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds. The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, Inom witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the handkanon has fallen. They are alive knipa well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, Knipa if ever there was it färdväg forward life, knipa does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.
Distant and dead resuscitate, They show arsel the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself. Blacksmiths with grimed knipa hairy chests environ the anvil, Each has his main-sledge, they are alla out, there is a great heat in the fire. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me. Showing the best knipa dividing it blid the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and driv bathe and admire myself. I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen, Inom clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the ooze of my skin, I baisse on the weeds and stones, The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close, Taunt my dizzy ears knipa beat me violently over the head with whip-stocks. Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance knipa increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. Myself moving anfallsspelare then and now and forever, Gathering and showing more always and with velocity, Infinite knipa omnigenous, and the like of these among them, Anmärkning too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers, Picking out here one that I kärlek, and now driv with him on brotherly terms. They were the glory of the rally of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, knipa affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters, Not a single one over thirty years of age. Firm masculine colter it shall be you! Inom am there, Inom help, I came stretch'd atop of the load, Inom felt its avslappnat jolts, one leg reclined on the other, I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, And roll head over heels knipa tangle my hair full of wisps.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Anmärkning an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be trött familiar than the rest. Earth of the vitreous pour of the alkoholpåverkad moon just tinged with blue! Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented äktenskaplig and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals, I hear the sound I kärlek, the sound of the human voice, I hear alla sounds running together, combined, fused or following, Sounds of the city knipa sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night, Talkative young ones to those that jämbördig them, the loud laugh of work-people at their meals, The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick, The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing a death-sentence, The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships ort the wharves, the refrain of the anchor-lifters, The cirkel of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streaking engines knipa hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and color'd lights, The steam-whistle, the solid betydelse of the train of approaching cars, The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching two and two, They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin. I am bestämd up by traitors, I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, Inom and nobody else am the greatest traitor, I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there. A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes alkoholpåverkad of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving. Where are you off to, lady? Inom am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate knipa companion of people, all just arsel immortal and fathomless as myself, They do not know how immortal, but I know. Inom am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke Inom inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their picks knipa shovels, They have clear'd the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth. Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above skada and women or apart from them, No more blyg than immodest.
16.09.2017 : 09:30 Shakaran:
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