New York 1960, Allen Ginsberg:
"F i n e"
It is I, old Father Fish-eyed who begat the ocean,
the worm in my ear, the serpent wrapping around a tree,
I sit in the mind of the oak and hide in the rose,
I know if anyone wakes, no one but my death,
come to me bodies, come to me predictions, come all you prophets, come spirits and visions,
I receive all, I will die of cancer, I enter the coffin forever, close my eyes, disappear,
I fall upon myself in the winter snow, roll in a great wheel in the rain,
I watch the convulsions of those who copulate,
the machine screeches, the furies moan their low music, memory fades in the brain, men imitate dogs,
I delight in the belly of a woman, youth stretching the breasts and thighs to sex, the bird standing upright
to cast its seed upon the lips of Yin the beast dance in Siam,
they sing the opera in Moscow,
my boys go into heat at twilight on the steps, I enter New York, play my jazz on a Chicago Harpsichord,
the love that created me I lead back to my Origin without loss, I float above those who vomit
exalted by my immortality, exalted by this eternity I gamble and bury,
come Poet be silent eat my word, and taste my mouth in your ear.
Translation by Fernanda Pivano
#chiaroscuro uh, for some time now (that is, always) there has been a common fixation among the living, namely to try everything...
