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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=537172" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Supernatural Songs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>Ribb at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn<br>BECAUSE you have found me in the pitch-dark night<br>With open book you ask me what I do.<br>Mark and digest my tale, carry it afar<br>To those that never saw this tonsured head<br>Nor heard this voice that ninety years have cracked.<br>Of Baile and Aillinn you need not speak,<br>All know their tale, all know what leaf and twig,<br>What juncture of the apple and the yew,<br>Surmount their bones; but speak what none ha've<br>heard.<br>The miracle that gave them such a death<br>Transfigured to pure substance what had once<br>Been bone and sinew; when such bodies join<br>There is no touching here, nor touching there,<br>Nor straining joy, but whole is joined to whole;<br>For the intercourse of angels is a light<br>Where for its moment both seem lost, consumed.<br>Here in the pitch-dark atmosphere above<br>The trembling of the apple and the yew,<br>Here on the anniversary of their death,<br>The anniversary of their first embrace,<br>Those lovers, purified by tragedy,<br>Hurry into each other's arms; these eyes,<br>By water, herb and solitary prayer<br>Made aquiline, are open to that light.<br>Though somewhat broken by the leaves, that light<br>Lies in a circle on the grass; therein<br>I turn the pages of my holy book.<br>II<br>Ribb denounces Patrick<br>An abstract Greek absurdity has crazed the man --<br>Recall that masculine Trinity. Man, woman, child (a<br>daughter or a son),<br>That's how all natural or supernatural stories run.<br>Natural and supernatural with the self-same ring are<br>wed.<br>As man, as beast, as an ephemeral fly begets, Godhead<br>begets Godhead,<br>For things below are copies, the Great Smaragdine<br>Tablet said.<br>Yet all must copy copies, all increase their kind;<br>When the conflagration of their passion sinks, damped<br>by the body or the mind,<br>That juggling nature mounts, her coil in their em-<br>braces twined.<br>The mirror-scaled serpent is multiplicity,<br>But all that run in couples, on earth, in flood or air,<br>share God that is but three,<br>And could beget or bear themselves could they but<br>love as He.<br>III<br>Ribb in Ecstasy<br>What matter that you understood no word!<br>Doubtless I spoke or sang what I had heard<br>In broken sentences. My soul had found<br>All happiness in its own cause or ground.<br>Godhead on Godhead in sexual spasm begot<br>Godhead. Some shadow fell. My soul forgot<br>Those amorous cries that out of quiet come<br>And must the common round of day resume.<br>IV<br>There<br>There all the barrel-hoops are knit,<br>There all the serpent-tails are bit,<br>There all the gyres converge in one,<br>There all the planets drop in the Sun.<br>V<br>Ribb considers Christian Love insufficient<br>Why should I seek for love or study it?<br>It is of God and passes human wit.<br>I study hatred with great diligence,<br>For that's a passion in my own control,<br>A sort of besom that can clear the soul<br>Of everything that is not mind or sense.<br>Why do I hate man, woman Or event?<br>That is a light my jealous soul has sent.<br>From terror and deception freed it can<br>Discover impurities, can show at last<br>How soul may walk when all such things are past,<br>How soul could walk before such things began.<br>Then my delivered soul herself shall learn<br>A darker knowledge and in hatred turn<br>From every thought of God mankind has had.<br>Thought is a garment and the soul's a bride<br>That cannot in that trash and tinsel hide:<br>Hatred of God may bring the soul to God.<br>At stroke of midnight soul cannot endure<br>A bodily or mental furniture.<br>What can she take until her Master give!<br>Where can she look until He make the show!<br>What can she know until He bid her know!<br>How can she live till in her blood He live!<br>VI<br>He and She<br>As the moon sidles up<br>Must she sidle up,<br>As trips the scared moon<br>Away must she trip:<br>'His light had struck me blind<br>Dared I stop'.<br>She sings as the moon sings:<br>'I am I, am I;<br>The greater grows my light<br>The further that I fly'.<br>All creation shivers<br>With that sweet cry<br>VII<br>What Magic Drum?<br>He holds him from desire, all but stops his breathing<br>lest<br>primordial Motherhood forsake his limbs, the child no<br>longer rest,<br>Drinking joy as it were milk upon his breast.<br>Through light-obliterating garden foliage what magic<br>drum?<br>Down limb and breast or down that glimmering belly<br>move his mouth and sinewy tongue.<br>What from the forest came? What beast has licked its<br>young?<br>VIII<br>Whence had they come?<br>Eternity is passion, girl or boy<br>Cry at the onset of their sexual joy<br>'For ever and for ever'; then awake<br>Ignorant what Dramatis personae spake;<br>A passion-driven exultant man sings out<br>Sentences that he has never thought;<br>The Flagellant lashes those submissive loins<br>Ignorant what that dramatist enjoins,<br>What master made the lash. Whence had they come,<br>The hand and lash that beat down frigid Rome?<br>What sacred drama through her body heaved<br>When world-transforming Charlemagne was con-<br>ceived?<br>IX<br>The Four Ages of Man<br>He with body waged a fight,<br>But body won; it walks upright.<br>Then he struggled with the heart;<br>Innocence and peace depart.<br>Then he struggled with the mind;<br>His proud heart he left behind.<br>Now his wars on God begin;<br>At stroke of midnight God shall win.<br>X<br>Conjunctions<br>If Jupiter and Saturn meet,<br>What a cop of mummy wheat!<br>The sword's a cross; thereon He died:<br>On breast of Mars the goddess sighed.<br>XI<br>A Needle's Eye<br>All the stream that's roaring by<br>Came out of a needle's eye;<br>Things unborn, things that are gone,<br>From needle's eye still goad it on.<br>XII<br>Meru<br>Civilisation is hooped together, brought<br>Under a mle, under the semblance of peace<br>By manifold illusion; but man's life is thought,<br>And he, despite his terror, cannot cease<br>Ravening through century after century,<br>Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he may come<br>Into the desolation of reality:<br>Egypt and Greece, good-bye, and good-bye, Rome!<br>Hermits upon Mount Meru or Everest,<br>Caverned in night under the drifted snow,<br>Or where that snow and winter's dreadful blast<br>Beat down upon their naked bodies, know<br>That day brings round the night, that before dawn<br>His glory and his monuments are gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Butler+Yeats">William Butler Yeats</a><div class=q>
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Ribb at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn
BECAUSE you have found me in the pitch-dark night
With open book you ask me what I do.
Mark and digest my tale, carry it afar
To those that never saw this tonsured head
Nor heard this voice that ninety years..."></div>
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