I welcome and I singing And all that is mine is yours , Because there is an atom of my body that does not belong . Indolent and idle I bade my soul , I stopped and looked to be a grass stalk summer . My tongue , every atom of my blood, made this earth, with this air, Born here of parents born here whose parents , like their parents , I now , at thirty- seven years of my age and in perfect health , start, And I hope I do not stop until my death. ( ... ) I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the path traveled by the stars, And the ant is perfect and so are the grain of sand and egg thrush , And the frog is a masterpiece worthy of the highest work And blackberry would adorn the halls of heaven, And the lower joint of my hand can humiliate all machines And the cow grazing head down beats all the statues, And a mouse is miracle able to confuse millions of unbelievers . I feel that my being gneiss, coal, long strands of moss , fruits , grains, edible roots are incorporated And I m made of quadrupeds and birds , And that I can recover as I have left behind, But I can do it again when I choose ... - Walt Whitman, Song of Myself , translated by Jorge Luis Borges ( fragment)
Posted on: Thu, 06 Mar 2014 16:31:40 +0000