Monday, March 14, 2011

Birthday Sayings 18 Years Old

Hilda Doolittle: poemas de los libros de Trilogía

39

We received too many dogmas and few guarantees,
too: more
has not been shown enough that this, this, this
is heresy, I know and feel
the hidden meaning of words;
are anagrams, cryptograms,
small boxes suitable for hatching butterflies




[41]
Sirius: What mystery is
this?
you seed, grain
with sand, Planted in the furrow

black as lead. Sirius
:
what mystery is this?

you've drowned in the river streams

push spring water gates. Sirius
:
what mystery is this?
where heat breaks and cracks
the desert sand,

you are a mist of snow white, tiny flowers.

[41]
sirius:
What is this mystery? You are
seed, corn
near the sand,
enclosed in black-lead,
plow land. Sirius
:
What is this mystery? You are
Drowned
in the river, the spring freshets

push open the water-gates. Sirius
:
What is this mystery? Where
heat breaks and cracks
the sand-waste,

You are a mist of snow: white, little flowers.


[43]
But the walls do not fall, do not understand why
;
is a ssss-whistle,
a new dimension,
unknown, lightning,
we are helpless, dust and gunpowder
inundate the lungs, our bodies collide

desgoznadas crossing gates, lintels
give
forming a cross;

tirelessly walked under a gentle air that thickens
blinding fog, then we depart

without delay, because neither can we trust
air, dense
where he would be thin and tenuous

where the wings separate and open , and ether

outweighs the soil, and soil

bends like a shipwreck

rules do not know why they guide us, we
navigators, explorers
of the unknown, the unregistered
;
have no map;
may arrive on port
pit.

[43] Still the walls
do not fall,

I do not know why;

there is zrr-hiss,

lightning in a not-known,

unregistered dimension;

we are powerless,

dust and powder fill our lungs

our bodies blunder

through doors twisted on hinges,

and the lintels slant

cross-wise;

we walk continually

on thin air

that thickens to a blind fog,

then step swiftly aside,

for even the air

is independable,

thick where it should be fine

and tenuous

where wings separate and open,

and the ether

is heavier than the floor,

and the floor sags

like a ship floundering;


we know no rule of procedure,
We Are voyagers, discoverers
of the not-KNOWN,
the Unrecorded;
We Have No map;
Possibly we will Reach haven,
heaven. ------


is not in any way,
column of fire that came first


different column of fire that will come;

the abyss, the chasm of consciousness should
be saved;

each of us is the master of the house, each with its
treasure


is time to restore its value to our

secret chest in light of past and future Because if you save


coins, gems, vases and fountains
gold or just

talismans,
documents or parchments,

clearly, we are told, contains


for each type you have been instructed
,


old things and new.

In no wise is the catch-or-fire

That Went Before
Different from the catch-of-fire
That eat after;

chasm, schism in Consciousness
Must Be bridged over;

We Are each, householder,
Each with a treasure, is now

the time to re-value

our secret hoard



in the light of both past and future,

for whether



coins, gems, gold

beackers, platters



or merely

talismans, records or parchments,



explicitly, we are told,

it contains



for every scribe

wich is instructed,



things new

and old.



. De "No caen las murallas", primer libro de Trilogía.

------------------------------------



(24)



Cada hour, every moment has its specific
Companion Spirit;

the clock hand, minute by minute, knocking
around its prescribed orbit, but this curious


mechanical perfection should not separate but rather to relate our life

This temporary eclipse,
with that other ...

(25)

... life
not need the moon to shine in it, it was beating


minute (the clock in my head,

with his pale, luminous disk)
when Lady touched;


I spoke informally with friends in the other room when we saw the

stay out
be lighter, and at the threshold there was no such


door (it was a dream, of course) ,

and she was standing there
actually doubling the ladder.

(26)

One of us said, how strange,
she is standing there really

I wonder what brought the will?
and one of us said:

Will we have some power
three of us together,

that acts as a magnet that attracts supernatural
?

(but it was natural enough, we agreed
)

not know what I said or you said something
,

since before he could speak,
I realized that I had been dreaming that

lay awake in my bed now,
light so bright that it was the cover

phosphorescent

my little clock and the faint tapping

came from the needles.

( 27)

Yet
subtle way she was there more than ever, as if miraculously


been related to the time there,

which is not easy even for the experienced
strange

whom we must not forget
because some people receive the angels unawares.

(31)

But none of this, none of this is suggested
as I saw it, though possibly


us closer to a portion of their fresh goodness in the funny
courtesy
Marine
of marble maidens in Venice,

to ascend the altar steps of
in Santa Maria dei Miracoli,

or another name
acclaim in Vienna, Maria von dem

Schnee
Our Lady of the Snow

(32)

Well I can truly say that their veils
were white as snow, full

nothing on earth can overcome
the blank, I can say

it looked beautiful, she looked beautiful ,
was adorned with a cloak

to heel, but was not subject
with a gold tie,

no gold, no color,
there was glare on the canvas or shadow

bastille basting and
when dropped, it did not look

none of its usual attributes;
the no child with her.

(41)

carried a book to tell us whether
who was one of us, with us,

or
suggest that she was satisfied with our offering, an attribute to the Angels, and although

spoke the Campanili,
Gabriel, Azrael, although Campanili

respondents
Raphael, Uriel,

even a distant note
water redoubled Anael and Miguel,

was implicit from the beginning
another, deeper, unnamed,

resurgent campaign that said, dreaming through all:
recalls

where there was never need for the moon to shine ...
not see any temple.

(42)

some names to the bell so deep
Zadkiel, the goodness of God,

he became ruler of Jupiter or Zeus
Teus father or father,

Teus, God, God the Father, Father god
Father God or Angel,

himself, the sky still home
a star whose color is amethyst,

whose candle is lit in deep violet
with others.

(43)

And
spectrum point where all the lights are one

is white and white is not a lack of color,
as we are taught from childhood,

but a full color ;
where

mixed flames and wings are, where we won
the ark of perfection,

're happy, we are happy started
new;
I saw John. I witness
of rainbow wings, the scope of

sky and the walls of color,
columns of jasper, but when the jewel

melt in the crucible,
not find ashes, ashes of roses,
high vessel and a staff of lilies, you
not a spiritual, not a rose mystica

but a bunch even rose garden or a face
as Christmas rose. Here
flowering arch,
is the flowering of the wood burned,
where Zadkiel, we pause to give thanks for
rise again from the dead and living.

* From Tribute to angels, the second book
---------------------------------- Trilogy -------------------------


where I love and am loved
into the snow;

to what I love
no thought of duty or pity;

I go to where I belong, inexorably,
as the rain has stopped falling into the grooves

;'ve
or

could have given life to the point;
but if it does not grow or mature

the rain of beauty, rain
return to the cloud,

who sharpens his steel harvest stone;
but this is not our field, we have not

planted;
heartless, merciless, let

the site of the skull
for those who composed it.


27

and Gaspar (that certainly was a merchant)
at first did not recognize;

fragile, thin, wore no bracelets
or other ornament, and the shawl wrapped around her head

and
shoulder did not notice, did not seem

a servant carrying a message, but someone
confidence on the part of a great lady;


individual discretion in their dark robes and headdress,


Gaspar did not recognize until the shawl fell to the ground, then

and recognized not only as Mary said the
star (Venus in ascending

or Venus conjunct Jupiter
or whatever he calls these fires errant),

but when he saw the light of his hair
full moon like a lost river, Gaspar


said.

* From "The flowering of the rod," the third book of Trilogy .

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