After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
|
After the frosty silence in the gardens
|
After the agony in stony places
|
The shouting and the crying
|
Prison and palace and reverberation
|
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
|
He who was living is now dead
|
We who were living are now dying
|
With little patience
|
|
Here is no water but only rock
|
Rock and no water and the sandy road
|
The road winding above among the mountains
|
Which are mountains of rock without water
|
If there were water we should stop and drink
|
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
|
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
|
If there were only water amongst the rock
|
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
|
[Ahh]
|
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
|
There is not even silence in the mountains...
|
[Ahh...]
|
|
(This is an excerpt of a Poem by T.S. Eliot called What the Thunder Said in a collection called 'The Waste Land')
|
|
-----------------
|
The Light At The Edge of The World
|
Darkest Hour |