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LEAVES OF GRASS in Eéze Réeder format (Part I)

[This page is "under construction" to the extent that it has not been read for format problems, obvious typos, etc. If you spot something you think I should fix, please contact me (Fanetiks@aol.com).

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Leaves of Grass / Leevz uv Graas
in Éeze Réeder Format


I present here the first part of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, the single best-known book of poetry in the English language, in side-by-side standard and phonetic spelling. The respelling system used here, Augméntad Fanétik, should be easily readable by anyone who already reads English fluently, but the rules by which things are spelled are set out for easy reference in the main "Fanetiks" page at http://members.aol.com/Fanetiks/index.html . (The only difficult spellings for present readers of English are those that employ OR for the sound of AR in the word "bar": "bor" (short-O). The key to reading that combination right is to remember it is "OR as in forest, tomorrow, and Florida". If in your own dialect those OR's still sound like the OR in "format", that won't much help.)

Augméntad Fanétik differs from ordinary (unaugmented) Fanetik in supplying accents to mark syllabic stress:  the acute accent appears over the syllable that takes primary stress ("príemere"); the grave accent marks secondary stress ("sékandère"); and on a very few words of many syllables, the circumflex accent indicates tertiary stress ("lèksikógrafêr").

This site is designed to show the utility of a phonetic spelling system in bringing out the sounds of poetry (or, as some people regard much of Leaves of Grass, "lined prose"). The particular work chosen was selected for its extraordinary literary importance, political importance, and importance in gay history.

Literarily, the self-publication of Leaves of Grass in a small edition in 1855 was a groundbreaking (not to say "earth-shattering") event. It broke from many of the conventions of poetry of its day as to both subject matter and its seeming formlessness — for instance, there's very little rhyme. It spoke of everyday objects rather than 'exalted themes', and celebrated the (then-) modern while giving due recognition to the past. It was also shocking in its sexual openness — hetero- as well as homo- — and was indeed condemned by some critics as obscene. Leaves was also a stridently American work that focused on the New World and what it had to offer.

Thus arose its political importance, for in it Whitman champions democracy, egalitarianism, and the melding of the various ethnic and racial strains of the Old World into a 'new race' stronger and abler than any of the old, which would give rise to new forms and ideas, and revitalize and reform the Old World on an American model. Whitman appreciated before almost anyone else that the United States not only would eventually be what we now call a "superpower", but that it had already become so during his lifetime (he died in 1892). On August 7, 1888 he suggested that the "quality and limitlessness of number [of American fighting men] are easily admitted. But we have, too, the eligibility of organizing, handling and officering equal to the other [capacity, that is: numbers]. These two, with modern arms, transportation, and inventive American genius, would make the United States, with earnestness, not only able to stand the whole world, but conquer that world united against us." The implications of such power have not been fully grasped by our "leaders" even today, 111 years after Whitman made that observation.

As for the importance to homosexual men of Leaves of Grass, the entire work is permeated by a homosexual esthetic and eroticism that only gay men will fully appreciate. Passages that others may not see as provocative will be understood by gay men to describe aspects of their lives and their world that no one writing in English in recent centuries had dared speak to before.

Tho Leaves is certainly not a perfect work — Whitman's lists of occupations, places, etc., can become tedious, and he sometimes goes off on spiritualistic excursions into exotic religions that almost no one in the West knows (or cares) anything about — it is an enormously important work, and I hope this presentation makes it more readily accessible to young readers (who can ALWAYS "sound out" unfamiliar words in the right-hand column, there being no trick patterns like "knight" that cannot be sounded out), students of English as a Second Language, and people whose English pronunciation and vocabulary need work.

This is not intended to be a 'definitive', scholarly site for people who treat Whitman as "literature" and want to know about "alternative readings", discarded titles in various revisions, etc., but a place where people interested in the experience of reading Leaves of Grass new might enjoy the experience with a new dimension:  clear spellings in which NO pronunciation is ambiguous. This is a definitive site for the pronunciation of every word in Whitman's text. Forget about running to a dictionary to know how something is to be said. I've done that for you, and every word has a "pronunciation key" right alongside.

"Paumanok"?  I couldn't find that in a dictionary — and I'm using FOUR dictionaries in this project: the electronic versions of the Random House Unabridged Dictionary and American Heritage Dictionary and hardcopy versions of Merriam-Webster's Tenth New Collegiate Dictionary and The Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary). So I asked the bookkeeper in my office, who was born and raised on Long Island (for which "Paumanok" is an American Indian name). She had never heard of it, and thought it might be a name no longer used.  So I found an Internet site for Long Island's largest newspaper, Newsday, that dealt with Whitman's days on and writings about Long Island (he was born and raised there) that mentioned "Paumanok" and even gave its Indian meaning — but not a pronunciation. I then inquired of the staff of "Newsday In Education" how that unusual word is pronounced.

Meanwhile, my co-worker from Bayshore, L.I., found an Internet site for a winery that uses the name "Paumanok" and phoned to ask how they pronounce it.  That winery and Newsday In Education both came up with the same pronunciation. So when I transliterate that name as "Páumanòk", you can be pretty confident that that is an intellectually respectable pronunciation.
As with "Paumanok", so with everything else except the rare words I could not find anywhere, so marked with "[?]". Aside from those few words, you should feel confident that if you understand Fanetik, what you read (aloud, or 'aloud' to yourself) in Augméntad Fanétik is the way educated people would pronounce that word.

Now, Part 1 of 'The Great Book', thru "Song of Myself".


Notes about syllabic stress in phrases: (1) Whitman uses many words in two- or three-word phrases, sometimes linked by hyphen(s). Many of them are today ordinary compound words, but I have left them hyphened. Where is it plain which syllables in the phrase taken as a whole take primary or secondary stress, I have supplied the appropriate accent(s), as tho the phrase were a single word. Where the words linked are each of more than one syllable, I have tended to show syllabic stress for each word independently, as tho the phrase overall has no different stress pattern than would the words without a hyphen to link them. 

(2) Moreover, there are places where words of similar sort appear in close proximity as to show a contrast between them, such as "forenoons and afternoons". In that the reader should express that contrast in reading, I have supplied the appropriate contrasting stress pattern: fáurnuenz aand áafternùenz.

(I had no Fanetik-savvy proofreader to help with this page, so if you spot mistakes, please let me know: Fanetiks@aol.com.)

Highlights:  I Hear America Singing, Poets to Come, Starting from Paumanok, Song of Myself
 
 Traditional Orthography ("T.O.") Augméntad Fanétik
LEAVES OF GRASS

by Walt Whitman 
(1855)

 LEEVZ UV GRAAS

bi Wault Hwítman
Áeteen Fìftee-Fíev
COME SAID MY SOUL

Come, said my Soul,
Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,)
That should I after death invisibly return,
Or, long, long hence, in other spheres,
There to some group of mates the chants resuming,
(Tallying Earth's soil, trees, winds, tumultous waves,)
Ever with pleas'd smile I may keep on,
Ever and ever yet the verses owning — as, first, I here and now,
Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name,

Walt Whitman

 KUM SED MI SOEL

Kum, sed mi Soel,
Such vérsaz faur mi Bóde let us riet, (faur we or wun,)
Thaat shood I áafter detth invízible reetérn,
Aur, laung, laung hens, in úther sfeerz,
Thair tu sum gruep uv maets tha chaants reezúeming,
(Táaleeying Ertth's sóiyal, treez, windz, toomúlchuewas waevz,)
Éver witth pleezd smíeyal I mae keep on,
Éver aand éver yet tha vérsaz óening — aaz, ferst, I heer aand nou,
Síening faur Soel aand Bóde, set tu them mi naem,

Wault Hwítman
ONE'S-SELF I SING

One's-self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.

Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine,
The Modern Man I sing.

 WUN'Z SELF I SING

Wun'z-sélf I sing, a símpal séprat pérsan,
Yet úter tha werd Dèmakráatik, the werd onn-mós.

Uv fìzeeyólajèe frum top tu to I sing,
Not fìzeeyógnamèe alóen naur braen alóen iz wérthe faur tha Myuez, I sae
tha Faurm kampléet iz wértheeyer for,
Tha Féemail éekwale witth tha Mail I sing.

Uv Lief iméns in páashan, puls, aand póuwer,

Chéerfool, faur fréeyast áakshan faurmd únder tha lauz divíen,
Tha Módern Maan I sing.
AS I PONDERD IN SILENCE

As I ponder'd in silence,
Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long,
A Phantom arose before me with distrustful aspect,
Terrible in beauty, age, and power,
The genius of poets of old lands,
As to me directing like flame its eyes,
With finger pointing to many immortal songs,
And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said,

Know'st thou not there is hut one theme for ever-enduring bards?
And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles,
The making of perfect soldiers.

 AAZ I PÓNDERD IN SÍELANS

Aaz I pónderd in síelans
Reetérning apón mi póewamz, kansídering, línggering laung,
A fáantam aróez beefáur me witth distrústfool áaspekt,
Téribool in byúete, aej, aand póuwer,
Tha jéenyas uv póewats uv oeld laandz,
Aaz tu me dirékting liek flaem its iez,
Witth fíngger póinting tu méne imáurtal saungz,

Aand ménasing vois, Hwut síngast thou? it sed,

Noe'st thou not thair iz but wun ttheem faur éver-endúering bordz?
Aand thaat iz tha ttheem uv Waur, tha fáurchan uv báatalz,
The máeking uv pérfakt sóeljerz.
Be it so, then I answer'd,
I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one than any,
Waged in my book with varying fortune, with flight, advance and retreat, victory deferr'd and wavering,
(Yet methinks certain, or as good as certain, at the last,) the field the world,
For life and death, for the Body and for the eternal Soul,
Lo, I too am come, chanting the chant of battles,
I above all promote brave soldiers.		 Be it so, then I áanserd,
I tue háute Shaed áulso sing waur, aand a láungger aand gráeter wun thaan éne,
Waejd in mi book witth váareeying fáurchan, witth fliet, aadváans aand reetréet, víktare deférd aand wáevering,
(Yet meetthíngks sértan, aur aaz good aaz sértan, aat tha laast,) tha feeld tha woorld,
Faur lief aand detth, faur tha Bóde aand faur the eetérnal Soel,
Lo, I tue aam kum, cháanting tha chaant uv báatalz,
I abúv aul pramóet braev sóeljerz.
IN CABIN'D SHIPS AT SEA

In cabin'd ships at sea,
The boundless blue on every side expanding,
With whistling winds and music of the waves, the large imperious waves,
Or some lone bark buoy'd on the dense marine,
Where joyous full of faith, spreading white sails,
She cleaves the ether mid the sparkle and the foam of day, or under many a star at night,
By sailors young and old haply will I, a reminiscence of the land, be read,
In full rapport at last.

 IN KÁABIND SHIPS AAT SEE

In káabind ships aat see,
Tha bóundlas blu on évre sied ekspáanding,
Witth hwísling windz aand myúezik uv tha waevz, tha lorj impéereeyas waevz,
Aur sum loen bork boid on tha dens maréen,
Hwair jóiyas fool uv faetth, spréding hwiet sailz,
She kleevz the éetther mid tha spórkool aand tha foem uv dae, aur únder méne a stor aat niet,
Bi sáilerz yung aand oeld háaple wil I, a reminísans uv tha laand, be red,
In fool rapáur aat laast.
Here are our thoughts, voyagers' thoughts,
Here not the land, firm land, alone appears, may then by them be said,

The sky o'erarches here, we feel the undulating deck beneath our feet,
We feel the long pulsation, ebb and flow of endless motion,
The tones of unseen mystery, the vague and vast suggestions of the briny world, the liquid-flowing syllables,
The perfume, the faint creaking of the cordage, the melancholy rhythm,
The boundless vista and the horizon far and dim are all here,
And this is ocean's poem.		 Heer or óuwer tthauts, vóiyajerz' tthauts,
Heer not tha laand, ferm laand, alóen apéerz, mae then bi them be sed,

Tha ski aurórchaz heer, we feel the úndyoolàeting dek binéetth óuwer feet,
We feel tha laung pulsáeshan, eb aand flo uv éndlas móeshan,
Tha toenz uv únsèen místere, tha vaeg aand vaast sagjéschanz uv tha bríene woorld, tha líkwid-flóewing sílaboolz,
Tha pérfyuem, tha faent kréeking uv tha káurdaj, tha mélankòle rítham,
Tha bóundlas vísta aand tha haríezan for aand dim or aul heer,
Aand this iz óeshan'z póewam.
Then falter not O book, fulfil your destiny,
You not a reminiscence of the land alone,
You too as a lone bark cleaving the ether, purpos'd I know not whither, yet ever full of faith,
Consort to every ship that sails, sail you!
Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it here in every leaf;)
Speed on my book! spread your white sails my little bark athwart the imperious waves,
Chant on, sail on, bear o'er the boundless blue from me to every sea,
This song for mariners and all their ships.		 Then fáulter not Oe book, foolfíl yaur déstine,
Yu not a reminísans uv tha laand alóen,
Yu tue aaz a loen bork kléeving the éetther, pérpast I noe not hwíther, yet éver fool uf faetth,
Kónsaurt tu évre ship thaat sailz, sail yu!
Bair faurtth tu them fóeldad mi luv, (deer máarinerz, faur yu I foeld it heer in évre leef;)
Speed on mi book! spred yaur hwiet sailz mi lítal bork atthwáurt the impéereeyas waevz,
Chaant on, sail on, bair aur tha bóundlas blu frum me tu évre see,
This saung faur máarinerz aand aul thair ships.
TO FOREIGN LANDS

I heard that you ask'd for something to prove this puzzle the New World,
And to define America, her athletic Democracy,
Therefore I send you my poems that you behold in them what you wanted.

 TU FÓRAN LAANDZ

I herd thaat yu aaskt faur súmtthing tu pruev this
púzool tha Nu Woorld,
Aand tu deefíen Amáirika, her aatthlétik Damókrase,
Tháirfaur I send yu mi póewamz thaat yu beehóeld in them hwut yu wóntad.
TO A HISTORIAN

You who celebrate bygones,
Who have explored the outward, the surfaces of the races, the life that has exhibited itself,
Who have treated of man as the creature of politics, aggregates, rulers and priests,
I, habitan of the Alleghanies, treating of him as he is in himself in his own rights,
Pressing the pulse of the life that has seldom exhibited itself, (the great pride of man in himself,)
Chanter of Personality, outlining what is yet to be,
I project the history of the future.

 TU A HISTÁUREEYAN

Yu hu sélabraet bíegaunz,
Hu haav ekspláurd the óutwerd, tha sérfasaz uv tha ráesaz, tha lief thaat haaz egzíbitad itsélf,
Hu haav tréetad uv maan aaz tha kréecher uv pólitiks, áagragats, rúelerz aand preests,
I, háabitan uv the Àalagáeneez, tréeting uv him aaz he iz in himsélf in hiz oen riets,
Présing tha puls uv tha lief thaat haaz séldam egzíbitad itsélf, (tha graet pried uv maan in himsélf,)
Cháanter uv Persanáalite, óutliening hwut iz yet tu be,
I prajékt tha hístare uv tha fyúecher.
TO THEE OLD CAUSE

To thee old cause!
Thou peerless, passionate, good cause,
Thou stern, remorseless, sweet idea,
Deathless throughout the ages, races, lands,
After a strange sad war, great war for thee,
(I think all war through time was really fought, and ever will be really fought, for thee,)
These chants for thee, the eternal march of thee.

 TU THEE OELD KAUZ

Tu thee oeld kauz!
Thou péerlas, páashanat, good kauz,
Thou stern, reemáurslas, sweet iedéeya,
Détthlas tthruewóut the áejaz, ráesaz, laandz,
Áafter a straenj saad waur, graet waur faur thee,(I tthingk aul waur tthru tiem wuz réele faut, aand éver wil be réele faut, faur thee,)
Theez chaants faur thee, the eetérnal morch uv thee.
(A war O soldiers not for itself alone,
Far, far more stood silently waiting behind, now to advance in this book.)		 (A waur Oe sóeljerz not faur itsélf alóen,
For, for maur stood síelantle wáeting beehíend, nou tu aadváans in this book.)
Thou orb of many orbs!
Thou seething principle! thou well-kept, latent germ! thou centre!
Around the idea of thee the war revolving,
With all its angry and vehement play of causes,
(With vast results to come for thrice a thousand years,)
These recitatives for thee, — my book and the war are one,
Merged in its spirit I and mine, as the contest hinged on thee,
As a wheel on its axis turns, this book unwitting to itself,
Around the idea of thee.		 Thou aurb uv méne aurbz!
Thou séething prínsipool! thou wél-képt, láetant jerm! thou sénter!
Aróund the iedéeya uv thee tha waur reevólving,
Witth aul its áanggre aand véeyamant plae uv káuzaz,
(Witth vaast reezúlts tu kum faur tthries a tthóuzand yeerz,)
Theez rèsitatéevz faur thee, — mi book aand tha waur or wun,
Merjd in its spéerit I aand mien, aaz tha kóntest hinjd on thee,
Aaz a hweel on its áaksis ternz, this book unwíting tu itsélf,
Aróund the iedéeya uv thee.
EIDOLONS
[Webster's Tenth New Collegiate Dictionary defines and eidolon as '1 : an unsubstantial image: phantom; 2 : ideal'.]

I met a seer,
Passing the hues and objects of the world,
The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense,
To glean eidolons.

 IEDÓELANZ
[Webster'z Tentth Nu Kaléejat Díkshanèree deefíenz aan iedóelan aaz '1 : aan ùnsabstáanshal ímaj: fáantam; 2 : iedéel'.]

I met a séeyer,
Páasing the hyuez aand óbjekts uv tha woorld,
Tha feeldz uv ort aand lérning, plézher, sens,
Tu gleen iedóelanz.
Put in thy chants said he,
No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments, parts, put in,
Put first before the rest as light for all and entrance-song of all,
That of eidolons.		 Poot in thi chaants sed he,
No maur tha púzling óuwer nor dae, naur ségmants, ports, poot in,
Poot ferst beefáur tha rest aaz liet faur aul aand éntrans-saung uv aul,
Thaat uv iedóelanz.
Ever the dim beginning,
Ever the growth, the rounding of the circle,
Ever the summit and the merge at last, (to surely start again,)
Eidolons! eidolons!		 Éver tha dim beegíning,
Éver tha groetth, tha róunding uv tha sérkool,
Éver the súmit aand tha merj aat laast, (tu shúerle stort agén,)
Iedóelanz! iedóelanz!
Ever the mutable,
Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering,
Ever the ateliers, the factories divine,
Issuing eidolons.		 Éver tha myúetabool,
Éver matéereeyalz, cháenjing, krúmbling, rèe-koehéering,
Éver the atélyaez, tha fáaktareez divíen,
Íshuewing iedóelanz.
Lo, I or you,
Or woman, man, or state, known or unknown,
We seeming solid wealth, strength, beauty build,
But really build eidolons.		 Lo, I aur yu,
Aur wóoman, maan, aur staet, noen aur únoen,
We séeming sólid weltth, strengktth, byúete bild,
But réele bild iedóelanz.
The ostent evanescent,
The substance of an artist's mood or savan's studies long,
Or warrior's, martyr's, hero's toils,
To fashion his eidolon.		 The óstent èvanésant,
Tha súbstans uv aan órtist's mued aur savón'z stúdeez laung,
Aur wáureeyer'z, mórter'z, héeroe'z tóiyalz,
Tu fáashan hiz iedóelan.
Of every human life,
(The units gather'd, posted, not a thought, emotion, deed, left out,)
The whole or large or small summ'd, added up, In its eidolon.		 Uv évre hyúeman lief,
(Tha yúenits gáatherd, póestad, not a tthaut, eemóeshan, deed, left out,)
Tha hoel aur lorj aur smaul sumd, áadad up,
In its iedóelan.
The old, old urge,
Based on the ancient pinnacles, lo, newer, higher pinnacles,
From science and the modern still impell'd,
The old, old urge, eidolons.		 The oeld, oeld erj,
Baest on the áenchant pínakoolz, loe, núewer, híeyer pínakoolz,
Frum síeyans aand tha módern stil impéld,
The oeld, oeld erj, iedóelanz.
The present now and here,
America's busy, teeming, intricate whirl,
Of aggregate and segregate for only thence releasing,
To-day's eidolons.		 Tha prézant nou aand heer,
Amáirika'z bíze, téeming, íntrikat hwoorl,
Uv áagragat aand ségragat faur óenle thens reeléesing,
Toodáe'z iedóelanz.
These with the past,
Of vanish'd lands, of all the reigns of kings across the sea,
Old conquerors, old campaigns, old sailors' voyages,
Joining eidolons.		 Theez witth tha paast,
Uv váanisht laandz, uv aul tha raenz uv kingz akráus tha see,
Oeld kóngkererz, oeld kaampáenz, oeld sáilerz' vóiyajaz,
Jóining iedóelanz.
Densities, growth, facades,
Strata of mountains, soils, rocks, giant trees,
Far-born, far-dying, living long, to leave,
Eidolons everlasting.		 Dénsiteez, groetth, fasódz,
Stráata uv móuntanz, sóiyalz, roks, jíeyant treez,
For-báurn, for-díeying, líving laung, tu leev,
Iedóelanz èverláasting.
Exalte, rapt, ecstatic,
The visible but their womb of birth,
Of orbic tendencies to shape and shape and shape,
The mighty earth-eidolon.		 Ègzaultáe, raapt, ekstáatik,
Tha vízibool but thair wuem uv bertth,
Uv áurbik téndanseez tu shaep aand shaep aand shaep,
Tha míete értth-iedòelan.
All space, all time,
(The stars, the terrible perturbations of the suns,
Swelling, collapsing, ending, serving their longer, shorter use,)
Fill'd with eidolons only.		 Aul spaes, aul tiem,
(Tha storz, tha téribool pèrterbáeshanz uv tha sunz,
Swéling, kaláapsing, énding, sérving thair láungger, sháurter yues,)
Fild witth iedóelanz óenle.
The noiseless myriads,
The infinite oceans where the rivers empty,
The separate countless free identities, like eyesight,
The true realities, eidolons.		 Tha nóizlas méereeyadz,
The ínfinit óeshanz hwair tha ríverz émpte,
Tha séprat kóuntlas fre iedéntiteez, liek íesìet,
Tha tru reeyáaliteez, iedóelanz.
Not this the world,
Nor these the universes, they the universes,
Purport and end, ever the permanent life of life,
Eidolons, eidolons.		 Not this tha woorld,
Naur theez tha yúeniversaz, thae tha yúeniversaz,
Perpáurt aand end, éver tha pérmanant lief uv lief,
Iedóelanz, iedóelanz.
Beyond thy lectures learn'd professor,
Beyond thy telescope or spectroscope observer keen, beyond all mathematics,
Beyond the doctor's surgery, anatomy, beyond the chemist with his chemistry,
The entities of entities, eidolons.		 Beeyónd thi lékcherz lernd praféser,
Beeyónd thi télaskòep aur spéktraskòep abzérver keen, beeyónd aul màatthamáatiks, Beeyónd tha dókter'z sérjare, anáatame, beeyónd tha kémist witth hiz kémistre, The éntiteez uv éntiteez, iedóelanz.
Unfix'd yet fix'd,
Ever shall be, ever have been and are,
Sweeping the present to the infinite future,
Eidolons, eidolons, eidolons.		 Únfìkst yet fikst,
Éver shaal be, éver haav bin aand or,
Swéeping tha prézant tu the ínfinit fyúecher,
Iedóelanz, iedóelanz, iedóelanz.
The prophet and the bard,
Shall yet maintain themselves, in higher stages yet,
Shall mediate to the Modern, to Democracy, interpret yet to them,
God and eidolons.		 Tha prófat aand tha bord,
Shaal yet maentáen themsélvz, in híeyer stáejaz yet,
Shaal méedeeyaet tu tha Módern, tu Damókrase, intérprat yet tu them,
God aand iedóelanz.
And thee my soul,
Joys, ceaseless exercises, exaltations,
Thy yearning amply fed at last, prepared to meet,
Thy mates, eidolons.		 Aand thee mi soel,
Joiz, séeslas éksersìezaz, ègzaultáeshanz,
Thi yérning áample fed aat laast, preepáird tu meet,
Thi maets, iedóelanz.
Thy body permanent,
The body lurking there within thy body,
The only purport of the form thou art, the real I myself,
An image, an eidolon.		 Thi bóde pérmanant,
Tha bóde lérking thair witthín thi bóde,
The óenle perpáurt uv tha faurm thou ort, tha reel I miesélf,
Aan ímaj, aan iedóelan.
Thy very songs not in thy songs,
No special strains to sing, none for itself,
But from the whole resulting, rising at last and floating,
A round full-orb'd eidolon.		 Thi vére saungz not in thi saungz,
No spéshal straenz tu sing, nun faur itsélf,
But frum tha hoel reezúlting, ríezing aat laast aand flóeting,
A round fóol-àurbd iedóelan.
FOR HIM I SING

For him I sing,
I raise the present on the past,
(As some perennial tree out of its roots, the present on the past,)
With time and space I him dilate and fuse the immortal laws,
To make himself by them the law unto himself.

 FAUR HIM I SING

Faur him I sing,
I raez tha prézant on tha paast,
(Aaz sum paréneeyal tre out uv its ruets, tha prézant on tha paast,)
Witth tiem aand spaes I him dieláet aand fyuez the imáurtal lauz,
Tu maek himsélf bi them tha lau úntu himsélf.
WHEN I READ THE BOOK

When I read the book, the biography famous,
And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man's life?
And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?
(As if any man really knew aught of my life,
Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of my real life,
Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections
I seek for my own use to trace out here.)

 HWEN I RED THE BOOK

Hwen I red the book, tha bieyógrafe fáemas,
Aand iz this then (sed I) hwut the áutther kaulz a maan'z lief?
Aand so wil súmwun hwen I aam ded aand gaun riet mi lief?
(Aaz if éne maan réele nue aut uv mi lief,
Hwi éevan I miesélf I áufan tthingk noe lítal aur nútthing uv mi lief,
Óenle a fyu hints, a fyu difyúezd faent kluez aand iendirékshanz
I seek faur mi oen yues tu traes out heer.)
BEGINNING MY STUDIES

Beginning my studies the first step pleas'd me so much,
The mere fact consciousness, these forms, the power of motion,
The least insect or animal, the senses, eyesight, love,
The first step I say awed me and pleas'd me so much,
I have hardly gone and hardly wish'd to go any farther,
But stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs.

 BEEGÍNING MI STÚDEEZ

Beegíning mi stúdeez tha ferst step pleezd me so
much,
Tha meer faakt kónchasnas, theez faurmz, tha póuwer uv móeshan,
Tha leest ínsekt aur áanimal, tha sénsaz, íesìet, luv,
Tha ferst step I sae aud me aand pleezd me so much,
I haav hórdle gaun aand hórdle wisht tu go éne fórther,
But stop aand lóiter aul tha tiem tu sing it in ekstáatik saungz.
BEGINNERS

How they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals,)
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth,
How they inure to themselves as much as to any — what a paradox appears their age,
How people respond to them, yet know them not,
How there is something relentless in their fate all times,
How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward,
And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same great purchase.

 BEEGÍNERZ

Hou thae or pravíedad faur apón the ertth, (apéering aat
íntervalz,)
Hou deer aand drédfool thae or tu the ertth,
Hou thae inyúer tu themsélvz aaz much aaz tu éne — hwut a páaradoks apéerz thair aej,
Hou péepool reespónd tu them, yet noe them not,
Hou thair iz súmtthing reeléntlas in thair faet aul tiemz,
Hou aul tiemz mischúez the óbjekts uv thair àajooláeshan aand reewáurd,
Aand hou tha saem inéksarabool pries must stil be paed faur tha saem graet pérchas.
TO THE STATES

To the States or any one of them, or any city of the States,
Resist much, obey little,
Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved,
Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth, ever afterward resumes its liberty.

 TU THA STAETS

Tu tha staets aur éne wun uv them, aur éne síte uv
tha Staets,
Reezíst much, oebáe lítal,
Wuns unkwéschaning oebéedeeyans, wuns fóole ensláevd,
Wuns fóole ensláevd, no náeshan, staet, síte uv this ertth, éver áafterwerd reezúemz its líberte.
ON JOURNEYS THROUGH THE STATES

On journeys through the States we start,
(Ay through the world, urged by these songs,
Sailing henceforth to every land, to every sea,)
We willing learners of all, teachers of all, and lovers of all.

We have watch'd the seasons dispensing themselves and passing on,
And have said, Why should not a man or woman do as much as the
seasons, and effuse as much?

 ON JÉRNEEZ TTHRU THA STAETS

On jérneez tthru tha Stáets we stort,
(Ie tthru tha woorld, erjd bi theez saungz,
Sáiling hénsfàurtth tu évre laand, tu évre see,)
We wíling lérnerz uv aul, téecherz uv aul, aand lúverz uv aul.
We haav wocht tha séezanz dispénsing themsélvz aand páasing on,
Aand we haav sed, Hwi shood not a maan aur wóoman du aaz much aaz tha séezanz, aand efyúez aaz much?
We dwell a while in every city and town,
We pass through Kanada, the North-east, the vast valley of the Mississippi, and the Southern States,
We confer on equal terms with each of the States,
We make trial of ourselves and invite men and women to hear,
We say to ourselves, Remember, fear not, be candid, promulge the body and the soul,
Dwell a while and pass on, be copious, temperate, chaste, magnetic,
And what you effuse may then return as the seasons return,
And may be just as much as the seasons.		 We dwel a hwíeyal in évre síte aand toun,
We paas tthru Káanada, tha Naurtth-éest, tha vaast váale uv tha Mìsisípe, aand tha Súthern Staets,
We kanfér on éekwal termz witth eech uv tha Staets,
We maek tríeyal uv ouwersélvz aand invíet men aand wíman tu heer,
We sae tu ouwersélvz, Reemémber, feer not, be káandid, pramúlj tha bóde aand tha soel,
Dwel a hwíeyal aand paas on, be kóepeeyas, témperat, chaest, maagnétik,
Aand hwut yu efyúez mae then reetérn aaz tha séezanz reetérn,
Aand mae be just aaz much aaz tha séezanz.
TO A CERTAIN CANTATRICE

Here, take this gift,
I was reserving it for some hero, speaker, or general,
One who should serve the good old cause, the great idea, the progress and freedom of the race,
Some brave confronter of despots, some daring rebel;
But I see that what I was reserving belongs to you just as much as to any.

 TU A SÉRTAN KÒNTATRÉECHAE / KÒNNTATRÉES

Heer, taek this gift,
I wuz reezérving it faur sum héero, spéeker, aur jénral,
Wun hu shood serv tha good oeld kauz, tha graet iedéeya, tha prógres aand fréedam uv tha raes,
Sum braev kanfrúnter uv déspats, sum dáiring rébal;
But I se thaat hwut I wuz reezérving beeláungz tu yu just aaz much aaz tu éne.
ME IMPERTURBE

Me imperturbe, standing at ease in Nature,

Master of all or mistress of all, aplomb in the midst of irrational things,
Imbued as they, passive, receptive, silent as they,
Finding my occupation, poverty, notoriety, foibles, crimes, less important than I thought,
Me toward the Mexican sea, or in the Mannahatta or the Tennessee, or far north or inland,
A river man, or a man of the woods or of any farm-life of these States or of the coast, or the lakes or Kanada,
Me wherever my life is lived, O to be self-balanced for contingencies,
To confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as the trees and animals do.

 MAE ÈEMPAIRTÚERBAE

Mae èempairtúerbae, stáanding aat eez
in Náecher,
Máaster uv aul aur místras uv aul, aplóm in tha midst uv iráashanal tthingz,
Imbyúed aaz thae, páasiv, reeséptiv, síelant aaz thae,
Fíending mi okyoopáeshan, póverte, noetaríeyate, fóiboolz, kriemz, les impáurant thaan I tthaut,
Me taurd tha Méksikan see, aur in tha Maanahaata aur tha Tènasée, aur for naurtth aur ínland,
A ríver maan, aur a maan uv tha woodz aur uv éne form-lief uv theez Staets aur uv tha koest, aur tha laeks aur Káanada,
Me hwairéver mi lief iz livd, Oe tu be self-báalanst faur kantínjansèez,
Tu kanfrúnt niet, staurmz, húngger, rídikyuel, áaksidants, reebúfs, aaz tha treez aand áanimalz du.
SAVANTISM

Thither as I look I see each result and glory retracing itself and
nestling close, always obligated,
Thither hours, months, years — thither trades, compacts,
establishments, even the most minute,
Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, persons, estates;
Thither we also, I with my leaves and songs, trustful, admirant,
As a father to his father going takes his children along with him.

 SAVÓNTIZAM

Tthíther aaz I look I se eech reezúlt aand gláure
reetráesing itsélf aand nésling kloes, áulwaez óbligàetad,
Tthíther óuwerz, muntths, yeerz — tthíther traedz, kómpaakts, estáablishmants, éevan tha moest mienúet,
Tthíther évreedae lief, speech, yueténsoolz, pólitiks, pérsanz, estáets;
Tthíther we áulso, I witth mi leevz aand saungs, trústfool, aadmíerant [?],
Aaz a fóther tu hiz fóther góewing taeks hiz chíldran aláung witth him.
THE SHIP STARTING

Lo, the unbounded sea,
On its breast a ship starting, spreading all sails, carrying even
her moonsails.
The pennant is flying aloft as she speeds she speeds so stately — below emulous waves press forward,
They surround the ship with shining curving motions and foam.

 THA SHIP STÓRTING

Loe, the unbóundad see,
On its brest a ship stórting, spréding aul sailz, káareeying éevan her múensailz.
Tha pénant iz flíeying aláuft aaz she speedz she speedz so stáetle — beeló émyoolas waevz pres fáurwerd,
Thae saróund tha ship witth shíening kérving móeshanz aand foem.
I HEAR AMERICA SINGING

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day — at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

 I HEER AMÁIRIKA SÍNGING

I heer Amáirika sínging, tha váareed káaralz I heer,
Thoez uv makáaniks, eech wun sínging hiz aaz it shood be blietth aand straung,
Tha kórpanter sínging hiz aaz he mézherz hiz plaangk aur beem,
Tha máesan sínging hiz aaz he maeks réde faur werk, aur leevz auf werk,
Tha bóetman sínging hwut beeláungz tu him in hiz boet, tha dékhaand sínging on tha stéemboet dek,
Tha shúemaeker sínging aaz he sits on hiz bench, tha háater sínging aaz he staandz,
Tha wóodkuter'z saung, tha plóuboi'z on hiz wae in tha máurning, aur aat nuen ìntermíshan aur aat súndoun,
Tha dilíshas sínging uv tha múther, aur uv tha yung wief aat werk, aur uv tha goorl sóewing aur wóshing,
Eech sínging hwut biláungz tu him aur her aand tu nun els,
Tha dae hwut biláungz tu tha dae — aat niet tha pórte uv yung féloez, roebúst, fréndle,
Sínging witth óepan mouthz thair straung malóedeeyas saungz.
WHAT PLACE IS BESIEGED

What place is besieged, and vainly tries to raise the siege?
Lo, I send to that place a commander, swift, brave, immortal,
And with him horse and foot, and parks of artillery,
And artillery-men, the deadliest that ever fired gun.

 HWUT PLAES IZ BISÉEJD?

Hwut plaes iz biséejd, aand váenle triez
tu raez tha seej?
Loe, I send tu thaat plaes a kamáander, swift, braev, imáurtal,
Aand witth him haurs aand foot, aand porks uv ortílere,
Aand ortílereemèn, tha dédleeyast thaat éver fíeyerd gun.
STILL THOUGH THE ONE I SING

Still though the one I sing,
(One, yet of contradictions made,) I dedicate to Nationality,
I leave in him revolt, (O latent right of insurrection! O quenchless, indispensable fire!)

 STIL THO THA WUN I SING

Stil tho tha wun I sing,
(Wun, yet uv kòntradíkshanz maed,) I dédikaet tu Nàashanáalite,
I leev in him reevóelt, (Oe láetant riet uv ìnsarékshan! Oe kwénchlas, ìndispénsabool fíeyer!)
SHUT NOT YOUR DOORS

Shut not your doors to me proud libraries,
For that which was lacking on all your well-fill'd shelves, yet needed most, I bring,
Forth from the war emerging, a book I have made,
The words of my book nothing, the drift of it every thing,
A book separate, not link'd with the rest nor felt by the intellect,
But you ye untold latencies will thrill to every page.

 SHUT NOT YAUR DAURZ

Shut not yaur daurz tu me proud líebrerèez,
Faur thaat hwich wuz láaking on aul yaur wél-fìld shelvz, yet néedad moest, I bring,
Faurtth frum tha waur eemérjing, a book I haav maed,
Tha werdz uv mi book nútthing, tha drift uv it évreetthing,
A book séprat, not linkt witth tha rest naur felt bi the íntalekt,

But yu ye úntóeld láetanseez wil tthril tu évre paej.
POETS TO COME

Poets to come! orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for,
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known,
Arouse! for you must justify me.

 PÓEWATS TU KUM

Póewats tu kum! áuraterz, síngerz, myuezíshanz
tu kum!
Not toodáe iz tu jústifie me aand áanser hwut I aam faur,
But yu, a nu brued, náetiv, aatthlétik, kòntinéntal, gráeter thaan beefáur noen,
Aróuz! faur yu must jústifie me.
I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future,
I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back in the darkness.		 I miesélf but riet wun aur tueq iendíkativ werdz faur tha fyúecher,
I but aadváans a móemant óenle tu hweel aand hére baak in tha dórknas.
I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping, turns a casual look upon you and then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it,
Expecting the main things from you.		 I aam a maan hu, sáuntering aláung witthóut fóole stóping, ternz a káazhuewal look apón yu aand then avérts hiz faes,
Léeving it tu yu tu pruev aand deefíen it,
Ekspékting tha maen tthingz frum yu.
TO YOU

Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me?
And why should I not speak to you?

 TU YU

Stráenjer, if yu páasing meet me aand dizíeyer tu speek tu me, hwi shood yu not speek tu me?
Aand hwi shood I not speek tu yu?
THOU READER

Thou reader throbbest life and pride and love the same as I,
Therefore for thee the following chants.

 THOU RÉEDER

Thou réeder tthróbast lief aand pried aand luv tha saem aaz I,
Tháirfaur faur thee tha fóloewing chaants.
STARTING FROM PAUMANOK

1
Starting from fish-shape Paumanok where I was born,
Well-begotten, and rais'd by a perfect mother,
After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements,
Dweller in Mannahatta my city, or on southern savannas,
Or a soldier camp'd or carrying my knapsack and gun, or a miner in California,
Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring,
Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep recess,
Far from the clank of crowds intervals passing rapt and happy,
Aware of the fresh free giver the flowing Missouri, aware of mighty Niagara,
Aware of the buffalo herds grazing the plains, the hirsute and strong-breasted bull,
Of earth, rocks, Fifth-month flowers experienced, stars, rain, snow, my amaze,
Having studied the mocking-bird's tones and the flight of the mountain-hawk,
And heard at dawn the unrivall'd one, the hermit thrush from the swamp-cedars,
Solitary, singing in the West, I strike up for a New World.

 STÓRTING FRUM PÁUMANÒK

Wun
Stórting frum físháep Páumanòk hwair I wuz baurn,
Wel-beegótan, aand raezd bi a pérfakt múther,
Áafter róeming méne laandz, lúver uv pópyoolas páevmants,
Dwéler in Màanaháata mi síte, aur on súthern saváanaz,
Aur a sóeljer kaampt aur káareeying mi náapsaak aand gun, aur a míener in Kaalifáurnya,
Aur rued in mi hoem in Dakóeta'z woodz, mi díeyat meet, mi dringk frum tha spring,
Aur witthdráun tu myuez aand méditaet in sum deep risés,
For frum tha klaangk uv kroudz íntervalz páasing raapt aand háape,
Awáir uv tha fresh fre gíver tha flóewing Mizúere, awáir uv míete Nieyáagra,
Awáir uv tha búfalo herdz gráezing tha plaenz, tha hersúet aand stráung-brèstad bool,
Uv ertth, roks, Fìftth-muntth flóuwerz ekspéereeyanst, storz, raen, sno, mi amáez,
Háaving stúdeed tha mókingberd'z toenz aand tha fliet uv tha móuntan-hàuk,
Aand herd aat daun the unríevald wun, tha hérmit tthrush frum tha swòmp-séederz,
Sólitere, sínging in tha West, I striek up faur a Nu Woorld.
2
Victory, union, faith, identity, time,
The indissoluble compacts, riches, mystery,
Eternal progress, the kosmos, and the modern reports.
This then is life,
Here is what has come to the surface after so many throes and convulsions.		 Tueq
Víktare, yúenyan, faetth, iedéntite, tiem,
The ìndisólyoobool kómpaakts, ríchaz, místere,
Eetérnal prógres, tha kózmoes, aand tha módern reepáurts.
This then iz lief,
Heer iz hwut haaz kum tu tha sérfas áafter so méne tthroez aand kanvúlshanz.
How curious! how real!
Underfoot the divine soil, overhead the sun.		 Hou kyúereeyas! hou reel!
Underfóot tha divíen sóiyal, oeverhéd tha sun.
See, revolving the globe,
The ancestor-continents away group'd together,
The present and future continents north and south, with the isthmus between.		 Se, revólving tha gloeb,
The áansester-kóntinants awáe gruept toogéther,
Tha prézant aand fyúecher kóntinants naurtth aand soutth, witth the ísmas beetwéen.
See, vast trackless spaces,
As in a dream they change, they swiftly fill,
Countless masses debouch upon them,
They are now cover'd with the foremost people, arts, institutions, known.		 Se, vaast tráaklas spáesaz,
Aaz in a dreem thae chaenj, thae swíftle fil,
Kóuntlas máasaz dibóuch apón them,
Thae or nou kúverd witth tha fáurmoest péepool, orts, institúeshanz, noen.
See, projected through time,
For me an audience interminable.		 Se, prajéktad tthru tiem,
Faur me aan áudeeyans ìntérminabool.
With firm and regular step they wend, they never stop,
Successions of men, Americanos, a hundred millions,
One generation playing its part and passing on,
Another generation playing its part and passing on in its turn,
With faces turn'd sideways or backward towards me to listen,
With eyes retrospective towards me.		 Witth ferm aand régyooler step thae wend, thae néver stop,
Sakséshanz uv men, Amairikónoez, a húndrad mílyanz,
Wun jeneráeshan pláeying its port aand páasing on,
Anúther jeneráeshan pláeying its port aand páasing on in its tern,
Witth fáesaz ternd síedwaez aur báakwerd taurdz me tu lísan,
Witth iez retroespéktiv taurdz me.
3
Americanos! conquerors! marches humanitarian!
Foremost! century marches! Libertad! masses!
For you a programme of chants.		 Tthre
Amairikónoez! kóngkererz! mórchaz hyuemàanitáireeyan!
Fáurmoest! sénchare mórchas! Leebairtóth! máasaz!
Faur yu a próegraam uv chaants.
Chants of the prairies,
Chants of the long-running Mississippi, and down to the Mexican sea,
Chants of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin and Minnesota,
Chants going forth from the centre from Kansas, and thence equidistant,
Shooting in pulses of fire ceaseless to vivify all.		 Chaants uv tha práireez,
Chaants uv tha láung-rùning Mìsisípe, aand doun tu tha Méksikan see,
Chaants uv Oehíeyo, Iendeeyáana, Ilinói, Íeyawa, Wiskónsin aand Minasóeta,
Chaants góewing faurtth frum tha sénter frum Káanzas, aand thens eekwidístant,
Shúeting in púlsaz uv fíeyer séeslas tu vívifie aul.
4
Take my leaves America, take them South and take them North,
Make welcome for them everywhere, for they are your own off-spring,
Surround them East and West, for they would surround you,
And you precedents, connect lovingly with them, for they connect
lovingly with you.		 Faur
Taek mi leevz Amáirika, taek them Soutth aand taek them Naurtth,
Maek wélkam faur them évreehwair, faur thae or yaur oen áufspring,
Saróund them Eest aand West, faur thae wood saróund yu,
Aand yu présadants, kanékt lúvingle witth them, faur thae kanékt lúvingle witth yu.
I conn'd old times,
I sat studying at the feet of the great masters,
Now if eligible O that the great masters might return and study me.		 I kond oeld tiemz,
I saat stúdeeying aat tha feet uv tha graet máasterz,
Nou if élijibool Oe thaat tha graet máasterz miet reetérn aand stúde me.
In the name of these States shall I scorn the antique?
Why these are the children of the antique to justify it.		 In tha naem uv theez Staets shaal I skaurn the aantéek
Hwi theez or tha chíldran uv the aantéek tu jústifie it.
5
Dead poets, philosophs, priests,
Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since,
Language-shapers on other shores,
Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn, or desolate,
I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you have left waited hither,
I have perused it, own it is admirable, (moving awhile among it,)
Think nothing can ever be greater, nothing can ever deserve more than it deserves,
Regarding it all intently a long while, then dismissing it,
I stand in my place with my own day here.		 Fiev
Ded póewats, fílasofs, preests,
Mórterz, órtists, invénterz, gúvernmants laung sins,
Láanggwaj-sháeperz on úther shaurz,
Náeshanz wuns póuwerfool, nou reedúest, witthdráun, aur désalat,
I dair not proeséed til I reespéktfoole krédit hwut yu haav left wóftad híther,
I haav perúezd it, oen it iz áadmarabool, (múeving ahwíeyal amúng it,)
Tthingk nútthing kaan éver be gráeter, nútthing kaan éver dizérv maur thaan it dizérvz,
Reegórding it aul inténtle a laung hwieyal, then dismísing it,
I stáand in mi plaes witth mi oen dae heer.
Here lands female and male,
Here the heir-ship and heiress-ship of the world, here the flame of materials,
Here spirituality the translatress, the openly-avow'd,
The ever-tending, the finale of visible forms,
The satisfier, after due long-waiting now advancing,
Yes here comes my mistress the soul.		 Heer laandz féemail aand mail,
Heer the air-ship aand áiras-ship uv tha woorld, heer tha flaem uv matéereeyalz,
Heer spèerichuewáalite tha traanzláetras, the óepanlee-avóud,
The éver-ténding, tha fináale uv vízibool faurmz,
Tha sáatisfìeyer, áafter du laung-wáeting nou aadváansing,
Yet heer kumz mi místras tha soel.
6
The soul,
Forever and forever — longer than soil is brown and solid — longer than water ebbs and flows.
I will make the poems of materials, for I think they are to be the most spiritual poems,
And I will make the poems of my body and of mortality,
For I think I shall then supply myself with the poems of my soul and of immortality.		 Siks
Tha soel,
Fauréver aand fauréver — láungger thaan sóiyal iz broun aand sólid — láungger thaan wúter ebz aand floez.
I wil maek the póewamz uv matéereeyalz, faur I tthingk thae or tu be tha moest spéerichùewal póewamz,
I wil maek tha póewamz uv mi bóde aand uv maurtáalite,
Faur I tthingk I shaal then saplí miesélf witth tha póewamz uv mi soel aand uv ímaurtàalite.
I will make a song for these States that no one State may under any circumstances be subjected to another State,
And I will make a song that there shall be comity by day and by night between all the States, and between any two of them,
And I will make a song for the ears of the President, full of weapons with menacing points,
And behind the weapons countless dissatisfied faces;
And a song make I of the One form'd out of all,
The fang'd and glittering One whose head is over all,
Resolute warlike One including and over all,
(However high the head of any else that head is over all.)		 I wil maek a saung faur theez Staets thaat no wun Staet mae únder éne sérkamstàansaz be sabjéktad tu anúther Staet,
Aand I wil maek a saung thaat thair shaal be kómite bi dae aand bi niet beetwéen aul tha Staets, aand beetwéen éne tueq uv them,
Aand I wil maek a saung faur the eerz uv tha Prézidant, fool uv wépanz witth ménasing points,
Aand beehíend tha wépanz kóuntlas disáatisfied fáesaz;
Aand a saung maek I uv tha Wun faurmd out uv aul,
Tha faangd aand glítering Wun huez hed iz óever aul,
Rezalúet wáurliek Wun inklúeding aand óever aul,
(Houwéver hie tha hed uv éne els thaat hed iz óever aul.)
I will acknowledge contemporary lands,
I will trail the whole geography of the globe and salute courteously every city large and small,
And employments! I will put in my poems that with you is heroism upon land and sea,
And I will report all heroism from an American point of view.		 I wil aaknólaj kantémparère laandz,
I wil trail tha hoel jeeyógrafe uv tha gloeb aand salúet kérteeyasle évre síte lorj aand smaul,
Aand emplóimants! I wil poot in mi póewamz thaat witth yu iz héroewizam apón laand aand see,
Aand I wil reepáurt aul héroewizam frum aan Amáirikan point uv vyu.
I will sing the song of companionship,
I will show what alone must finally compact these,
I believe these are to found their own ideal of manly love, indicating it in me,
I will therefore let flame from me the burning fires that were threatening to consume me,
I will lift what has too long kept down those smouldering fires,
I will give them complete abandonment,
I will write the evangel-poem of comrades and of love,
For who but I should understand love with all its sorrow and joy?
And who but I should be the poet of comrades?		 I wil sing tha saung uv kampáanyanship,
I wil sho hwut alóen must fíenale kampáakt theez,
I beeléev theez or tu found thair oen iedéel uv maanle luv, índikàeting it in me,
I wil tháirfaur let flaem frum me tha bérning fíeyerz thaat wer tthrétaning tu kasúem me,
I wil lift hwut haaz tue laung kept doun thoez smóeldering fíeyerz,
I wil giv them kampléet abáandanmant,
I wil riet the eeváanjal-póewam uv kómraadz aand uv luv,
Faur hu but I shood understáand luv witth aul its sóro aand joi?
Aand hu but I shood be tha póewat uv kómraadz?
7
I am the credulous man of qualities, ages, races,
I advance from the people in their own spirit,
Here is what sings unrestricted faith.		 Sévan
I aam tha kréjoolas maan uv kwóliteez, áejaz, ráesaz,
I aadváans frum tha péepool in thair oen spéerit,
Heer iz hwut singz ùnreestríktad faetth.
Omnes! omnes! let others ignore what they may,
I make the poem of evil also, I commemorate that part also,
I am myself just as much evil as good, and my nation is — and I say there is in fact no evil,
(Or if there is I say it is just as important to you, to the land or to me, as any thing else.)		 Óemnaes! óemnaes! let útherz ignáur hwut thae mae,
I maek tha póewam uv éevool áulso, I kamémaraet thaat port áulso,
I aam miesélf just aaz much éevool aaz good, aand mi náeshan iz — and I sae thair iz in faakt no éevool,
(Aur if thair iz I sae it iz just aaz impáurtant tu yu, tu tha laand aur tu me, aaz éne tthing els.)
I too, following many and follow'd by many, inaugurate a religion, I descend into the arena,
(It may be I am destin'd to utter the loudest cries there, the winner's pealing shouts,
Who knows? they may rise from me yet, and soar above every thing.)		 I tue, fóloewing méne aand fóloed bi méne, ináugyooraet a reelíjan, I dasénd íntu the aréena,
(It mae be I aam déstiend tu úter tha lóudast kriez thair, tha wíner'z péeling shouts,
Hu noez? thae mae riez frum me yet, aand saur abúv évre tthing.)
Each is not for its own sake,
I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion's sake.		 Eech iz not faur its oen saek,
I sae tha hoel ertth aand aul tha storz in tha skie or faur reelíjan'z saek.
I say no man has ever yet been half devout enough,
None has ever yet adored or worship'd half enough,
None has begun to think how divine he himself is, and how certain the future is.		 I sae no maan haaz éver yet bin haaf deevóut eenúf,
Nun haaz éver yet adáurd aur wérshipt haaf eenúf,
Nun haaz beegún tu tthingk hou divíen he himsélf iz, aand hou sértan tha fyúecher iz.
I say that the real and permanent grandeur of these States must be their religion,
Otherwise there is just no real and permanent grandeur;
(Nor character nor life worthy the name without religion,
Nor land nor man or woman without religion.)		 I sae thaat tha reel aand pérmanant gráanjer uv theez Staets must be thair reelíjan,
Útherwiez thair iz just no reel aand pérmanant gráanjer;
(Naur káarakter naur lief wérthe tha naem witthout reelíjan,
Naur laand naur maan aur wóoman witthóut reelíjan.)
8
What are you doing young man?
Are you so earnest, so given up to literature, science, art, amours?
These ostensible realities, politics, points?
Your ambition or business whatever it may be?		 Aet
Hwut or yu dúewing yung maan?
Or yu so érnast, so gívan up tu líterachèr, síeyans, ort, amúerz?
Theez osténsibool reeyáaliteez, pólitiks, points?
Yaur aambíshan aur bíznaz hwutéver it mae be?
It is well — against such I say not a word, I am their poet also,
But behold! such swiftly subside, burnt up for religion's sake,
For not all matter is fuel to heat, impalpable flame, the essential life of the earth,
Any more than such are to religion.		 It iz wel — agénst such I sae not a werd, I aam thair póewat áulso,
But beehóeld! such swíftle sabsíed, bernt up faur reelíjan'z saek,
Faur not aul máater iz fyúewal tu heet, impáalpabool flaem, the isénchal lief uv the ertth,
Éne maur thaan such or tu reelíjan.
9
What do you seek so pensive and silent?
What do you need camerado?
Dear son do you think it is love?		 Nien
Hwut du yu seek so pénsiv aand síelant?
Hwut du yu need kòmeródo?
Deer sun du yu tthingk it iz luv?
Listen dear son — listen America, daughter or son,
It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to excess, and yet it satisfies, it is great,
But there is something else very great, it makes the whole coincide,
It, magnificent, beyond materials, with continuous hands sweeps and provides for all.		 Lísan deer sun — lísan Amáirika, dáuter aur sun,
It iz a páenfool tthing tu luv a maan aur wóoman tu eksés, aand yet it sáatisfiez, it iz graet,
But thair iz súmtthing els vére graet, it maeks tha hoel kòewinsíed,
It, maagnífisant, beeyónd matéereeyalz, witth kantínyuewas haandz sweeps aand pravíedz faur aul.
10
Know you, solely to drop in the earth the germs of a greater religion,
The following chants each for its kind I sing.		 Ten
Noe yu, sóele tu drop in the ertth tha jermz uv a gráeter reelíjan,
Tha fóloewing chaants eech faur its kiend I sing.
My comrade!
For you to share with me two greatnesses, and a third one rising inclusive and more resplendent,
The greatness of Love and Democracy, and the greatness of Religion.		 Mi kómraad!
Faur yu tu shair witth me tueq gráetnasaz, aand a ttherd wun ríezing inklúesiv aand maur reespléndant,
Tha gráetnas uv Luv aand Damókrase, aand tha gráetnas uv Reelíjan.
Melange mine own, the unseen and the seen,
Mysterious ocean where the streams empty,
Prophetic spirit of materials shifting and flickering around me,
Living beings, identities now doubtless near us in the air that we know not of,
Contact daily and hourly that will not release me,
These selecting, these in hints demanded of me.		 Maelónnzh mien oen, the únseen* aand tha seen,
Mistéereeyas óeshan hwair tha streemz émpte,
Prafétik spéerit uv matéereeyalz shífting aand flíkering aróund me,
Líving béeyingz, iedéntiteez nou dóutlas neer us in the air thaat we noe not uv,
Kóntaakt dáile aand óuwerle thaat wil not reelées me,
Theez silékting, theez in hints deemáandad uv me.
Not he with a daily kiss onward from childhood kissing me,
Has winded and twisted around me that which holds me to him,
Any more than I am held to the heavens and all the spiritual world,
After what they have done to me, suggesting themes.		 Not he witth a dáile kis ónwerd frum chíeyaldhood kísing me,
Haaz wíendad aand twístad aróund me thaat hwich hoeldz me tu him,
Ène maur thaan I aam held tu tha hévanz aand aul tha spéerichuewal woorld,
Áafter hwut thae haav dun tu me, sagjésting ttheemz.
O such themes — equalities! O divine average!
Warblings under the sun, usher'd as now, or at noon, or setting,
Strains musical flowing through ages, now reaching hither,
I take to your reckless and composite chords, add to them, and cheerfully pass them forward.		 Oe such ttheemz — eekwóliteez! Oe divíen áavraj!
Wáurblingz únder tha sun, úsherd aaz nou, aur aat nuen, aur séting,
Straenz myúezikal flóewing tthru áejaz, nou réeching híther,
I taek tu yaur réklas aand kampózit kaurdz, aad tu them, aand chéerfoole paas them fáurwerd.
11
As I have walk'd in Alabama my morning walk,
I have seen where the she-bird the mocking-bird sat on her nest in the briers hatching her brood.		 Eelévan
Aaz I haav waukt in Aalabáama mi máurning wauk,
I haav seen hwair tha shée-berd tha mókingberd saat on her nest in tha bríeyerz haaching her brued.
I have seen the he-bird also,
I have paus'd to hear him near at hand inflating his throat and joyfully singing.		 I haav seen tha hée-berd áulso,
I haav pauzd tu heer him neer aat haand infláeting hiz tthroet aand jóifoole sínging.
And while I paus'd it came to me that what he really sang for was not there only,
Nor for his mate nor himself only, nor all sent back by the echoes,
But subtle, clandestine, away beyond,
A charge transmitted and gift occult for those being born.		 Aand hwiel I pauzd it kaem tu me thaat hwut he réele saang faur wuz not thair óenle,
Naur faur hiz maet naur himsélf óenle, naur aul sent baak bi the ékoez,
But sútal, klaandéstin, awáe beeyónd,
A chorj traanzmítad aand gift akúlt faur thoez béeying baurn.
12
Democracy! near at hand to you a throat is now inflating itself and joyfully singing.		 Twelv
Damókrasee! neer aat haand tu yu a tthroet iz nou infláeting itsélf aand jóifoole sínging.
Ma femme! for the brood beyond us and of us,
For those who belong here and those to come,
I exultant to be ready for them will now shake out carols stronger and haughtier than have ever yet been heard upon earth.		 Moq fom! faur tha brued beeyónd us aand uv us,
Faur thoez hu beelaung heer aand thoez tu kum,
I egzúltant tu be réde faur them wil nou shaek out káaralz stráungger aand háuteeyer thaan haav éver yet bin herd apón ertth.
I will make the songs of passion to give them their way,
And your songs outlaw'd offenders, for I scan you with kindred eyes, and carry you with me the same as any.		 I wil maek tha saungz uv páashan tu giv them thair wae,
Aand yaur saungz óutlaud afénderz, faur I skaan yu witth kíndrad iez, aand káare yu witth me tha saem aaz éne.
I will make the true poem of riches,
To earn for the body and the mind whatever adheres and goes forward and is not dropt by death;
I will effuse egotism and show it underlying all, and I will be the bard of personality,
And I will show of male and female that either is but the equal of the other,
And sexual organs and acts! do you concentrate in me, for I am
determin'd to tell you with courageous clear voice to prove you illustrious,
And I will show that there is no imperfection in the present, and can be none in the future,
And I will show that whatever happens to anybody it may be turn'd to beautiful results,
And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death,
And I will thread a thread through my poems that time and events are compact,
And that all the things of the universe are perfect miracles, each as profound as any.		 I wil maek tha tru póewam uv ríchaz,
Tu ern faur tha bóde aand tha miend hwutéver aadhéerz aand goez fáurwerd aand iz not dropt bi detth;
I wil efyúez éegatìzam aand sho it únderlìeying aul, aand I wil be tha bord uv persanáalite,
Aand I wil sho uv mail aand féemail thaat éether iz but the éekwal uv the úther,
Aand sékshuewal áurganz aand aakts! du yu kónsentraet in me, faur I aam deetérmiend tu tel yu witth karáejas kleer vois tu pruev yu ilústreeyas,
Aand I wil sho yu thaat thair iz no imperfékshan in tha prézant, aand kaan be nun in tha fyúecher,
Aand I wil sho thaat hwutéver háapanz tu éneebùde it mae be ternd tu byúetifool reezúlts,
Aand I wil sho thaat nútthing kaan háapan maur byúetifool thaan detth,
Aand I wil tthred a tthred tthru mi póewamz thaat tiem aand eevénts or kampáakt,
Aand thaat aul the tthingz uv tha yúenivers or pérfakt méerakoolz, eech aaz proefóund aaz éne.
I will not make poems with reference to parts,
But I will make poems, songs, thoughts, with reference to ensemble,
And I will not sing with reference to a day, but with reference to all days,
And I will not make a poem nor the least part of a poem but has reference to the soul,
Because having look'd at the objects of the universe, I find there is no one nor any particle of one but has reference to the soul.		 I wil not maek póewamz witth réfrans tu ports,
But I wil maek póewamz, saungz, tthauts, witth réfrans tu onsómbool,
Aand I wil not sing witth réfrans tu a dae, but witth réfrans tu aul daez,
Aand I wil not maek a póewam naur tha leest port uv a póewam but haaz réfrans tu tha soel,
Beekáuz háaving lookt aat the óbjekts uv tha yúenivers, I fiend thair iz no wun naur éne pórtikool uv wun but haaz réfrans tu tha soel.
13
Was somebody asking to see the soul?
See, your own shape and countenance, persons, substances, beasts, the trees, the running rivers, the rocks and sands.		 Tthertéen
Wuz súmbude áasking tu se tha soel?
Se, yaur oen shaep aand kóuntanans, pérsanz, súbstansaz, beests, tha treez, tha rúning ríverz, tha roks aand saandz.
All hold spiritual joys and afterwards loosen them;
How can the real body ever die and be buried?		 Aul hoeld spéerichuewal joiz aand áafterwerdz lúesan them;
Hou kaan tha reel bóde éver di aand be béreed?
Of your real body and any man's or woman's real body,
Item for item it will elude the hands of the corpse-cleaners and pass to fitting spheres,
Carrying what has accrued to it from the moment of birth to the moment of death.		 Uv yaur reel bóde aand éne maan'z aur wóoman'z reel bóde,
Íetam faur íetam it wil eelúed tha haandz uv tha káurps-klèenerz aand paas tu fíting sfeerz,
Káareeying hwut haaz akrúed tu it frum tha móemant uv bertth tu tha móemant uv detth.
Not the types set up by the printer return their impression, the meaning, the main concern,
Any more than a man's substance and life or a woman's substance and life return in the body and the soul,
Indifferently before death and after death.		 Not tha tieps set up bi tha prínter reetérn thair impréshan, tha méening, tha maen kansérn,
Éne maur thaan a maan'z súbstans aand lief aur a wóoman'z súbstans aand lief reetérn in tha bóde aand tha soel,
Iendífrantle beefáur detth aand áafter detth.
Behold, the body includes and is the meaning, the main concern and includes and is the soul;
Whoever you are, how superb and how divine is your body, or any part of it!		 Beehóeld, tha bóde inklúedz aand iz tha méening, tha maen kansérn aand inklúedz aand iz tha soel;
Huewéver yu or, hou soopérb aand hou divíen iz yaur bóde, aur éne port uv it!
14
Whoever you are, to you endless announcements!		 Faurtéen
Huewéver yu or, tu yu éndlas anóunsmants!
Daughter of the lands did you wait for your poet?
Did you wait for one with a flowing mouth and indicative hand?
Toward the male of the States, and toward the female of the States,
Exulting words, words to Democracy's lands.		 Dáuter uv tha laandz did yu waet faur yaur póewat?
Did yu waet faur wun witth a flóewing moutth aand iendíkativ haand?
Taurd tha mail uv tha Staets, aand taurd the féemail uv tha Staets,
Egzúlting werdz, werdz tu Damókrase'z laandz.
Interlink'd, food-yielding lands!
Land of coal and iron! land of gold! land of cotton, sugar, rice!
Land of wheat, beef, pork! land of wool and hemp! land of the apple and the grape!
Land of the pastoral plains, the grass-fields of the world! land of those sweet-air'd interminable plateaus!
Land of the herd, the garden, the healthy house of adobie!
Lands where the north-west Columbia winds, and where the south-west
Colorado winds!
Land of the eastern Chesapeake! land of the Delaware!
Land of Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan!
Land of the Old Thirteen! Massachusetts land! land of Vermont and
Connecticut!
Land of the ocean shores! land of sierras and peaks!
Land of boatmen and sailors! fishermen's land!
Inextricable lands! the clutch'd together! the passionate ones!
The side by side! the elder and younger brothers! the bony-limb'd!
The great women's land! the feminine! the experienced sisters and the inexperienced sisters!
Far breath'd land! Arctic braced! Mexican breez'd! the diverse! the compact!
The Pennsylvanian! the Virginian! the double Carolinian!
O all and each well-loved by me! my intrepid nations! O I at any rate include you all with perfect love!
I cannot be discharged from you! not from one any sooner than another!
O death! O for all that, I am yet of you unseen this hour with irrepressible love,
Walking New England, a friend, a traveler,
Splashing my bare feet in the edge of the summer ripples on Paumanok's sands,		 Ìnterlíngkt, fúed-yèelding laandz!
Laand uv koel aand íeyern! laand uv goeld! laand uv kótan, shóoger, ries!
Laand uv hweet, beef, paurk! laand uv wool aand hemp! laand uv the áapool aand tha graep!
Laand uv tha páastaral plaenz, tha gráas-feeldz uv tha woorld! laand uv thoez swéet-áird intérminabool plaatóez!
Laand uv tha herd, tha górdan, tha héltthe hous uv adóebe!
Laandz hwair tha náurtthwest Kalúmbeeya wiendz, aand hwair tha sóutthwest Kolaródo wiendz!
Laand uv the éestern Chésapeek! laand uv tha Délawair!
Laand uv Ontáireeyo, Éere, Hyúeron, Míshigan!
Laand uv the Oeld Tthertéen! Màsachúesats laand! laand uv Vermónt aand Kanétikat!
Laand uv the óeshan shaurz! laand uv seeyáiraz aand peeks!
Laand uv bóetmen aand sáilerz! físherman'z laand!
Inekstríkabool laandz! tha klucht toogéther! tha páashanat wunz!
Tha sied bi sied! the élder aand yúngger brútherz! tha bóenee-limd!
Tha graet wóoman'z laand! tha féminin! the ekspéereeyanst sísterz aand the ínekspèereeyanst sísterz!
For brettht laand! Órktik braest! Méksikan breezd! tha divérs! tha kampáakt!
Tha Pensalváenyan! tha Verjínyan! tha dúbool Kàaralíneeyan!
Oe aul aand eech wèl-lúvd bi me! mi intrépid náeshanz! oe I aat éne raet inklúed yu aul witth pérfakt luv!
I káanot be dischórjd frum yu! not frum wun éne súener thaan anúther!
Oe detth! oe faur aul thaat, I aam yet uv yu unséen this óuwer witth ireeprésibool luv,
Wáuking Nu Inggland, a frend, a tráavaler,
Spláashing mi bair feet in the ej uv tha súmer rípoolz on Páumanòk's saandz,
15
With me with firm holding, yet haste, haste on.
For your life adhere to me,
(I may have to be persuaded many times before I consent to give myself really to you, but what of that?
Must not Nature be persuaded many times?)		 Fiftéen
Witth me witth ferm hóelding, yet haest, haest on.
Faur yaur lief aadhéer tu me,
(I mae haav tu be perswáedad méne tiemz befáur I kansént tu giv miesélf réele tu yu, but hwut uv thaat?
Must not Náecher be perswáedad méne tiemz?)
No dainty dolce affettuoso I,
Bearded, sun-burnt, gray-neck'd, forbidding, I have arrived,
To be wrestled with as I pass for the solid prizes of the universe,
For such I afford whoever can persevere to win them.		 No dáente dóelchae afètuewóezo I,
Béerdad, súnbernt, gráe-nekt, farbíding, I haav aríevd,
Tu be résoold witth aaz I paas faur tha sólid príezaz uv tha yúenivers,
Faur such I afáurd huewéver kaan persavéer tu win them.
16
On my way a moment I pause,
Here for you! and here for America!
Still the present I raise aloft, still the future of the States I harbinge glad and sublime,
And for the past I pronounce what the air holds of the red aborigines.		 Sikstéen
On mi wae a móemant I pauz,
Heer faur yu! aand heer faur Amáirika!
Stil tha prézant I raez aláuft, stil tha fyúecher uv tha Staets I hórbinj glaad aand sablíem,
Aand faur tha paast I pranóuns hwut the air hoeldz uv tha red aabaríjineez.
The red aborigines,
Leaving natural breaths, sounds of rain and winds, calls as of birds and animals in the woods, syllabled to us for names,
Okonee, Koosa, Ottawa, Monongahela, Sauk, Natchez, Chattahoochee,
Kaqueta, Oronoco, Wabash, Miami, Saginaw, Chippewa, Oshkosh, Walla-Walla,
Leaving such to the States they melt, they depart, charging the water and the land with names.		 Tha red aabaríjineez,
Léeving náachral bretths, soundz uv raen aand wiendz, kaulz aaz uv berdz aand áanimalz in tha woodz, sílaboold tu us faur naemz,
Oekóene [?], Kúesa, Ótawa, Manònggahéela, Sauk, Náachez, Chaatahúeche, Kakáeta [?], Aurinóeko,
Wóbaash, Mieyáame, Sáaginau, Chípawoq, Óshkosh, Wòla-Wóla,
Léeving such tu tha Staets thae melt, thae deepórt, chórjing tha wúter aand tha laand witth naemz.
17
Expanding and swift, henceforth,
Elements, breeds, adjustments, turbulent, quick and audacious,
A world primal again, vistas of glory incessant and branching,
A new race dominating previous ones and grander far, with new contests,
New politics, new literatures and religions, new inventions and arts.		 Sevantéen
Ekspáanding aand swift, hénsfaurtth,
Élamants, breedz, ajústmants, térbyoolant, kwik aand audáeshas,
A woorld príemal agén, vístaz uv gláure insésant aand bráanching,
A nu raes dóminaeting préeveeyas wunz aand gráander for, witth nu kóntests,
Nu pólitiks, nu líterachèrz aand reelíjanz, nu invénshanz aand orts.
These, my voice announcing — I will sleep no more but arise,
You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.		 Theez, mi vois anóunsing — I wil sleep no maur but aríez,
Yu óeshanz thaat haav bin kom witthín me! hou I feel yu, fáathamlas, stéring, preepáiring unprésadèntad waevz aand staurmz.
18
See, steamers steaming through my poems,
See, in my poems immigrants continually coming and landing,
See, in arriere, the wigwam, the trail, the hunter's hut, the
flat-boat, the maize-leaf, the claim, the rude fence, and the backwoods village,
See, on the one side the Western Sea and on the other the Eastern
Sea, how they advance and retreat upon my poems as upon their own shores,
See, pastures and forests in my poems — see, animals wild and tame — see, beyond the Kaw, countless herds of buffalo feeding on short curly grass,
See, in my poems, cities, solid, vast, inland, with paved streets, with iron and stone edifices, ceaseless vehicles, and commerce,
See, the many-cylinder'd steam printing-press — see, the electric telegraph stretching across the continent,
See, through Atlantica's depths pulses American Europe reaching, pulses of Europe duly return'd,
See, the strong and quick locomotive as it departs, panting, blowing the steam-whistle,
See, ploughmen ploughing farms — see, miners digging mines — see, the numberless factories,
See, mechanics busy at their benches with tools — see from among them superior judges, philosophs, Presidents, emerge, drest in working dresses,
See, lounging through the shops and fields of the States, me well-belov'd, close-held by day and night,
Hear the loud echoes of my songs there — read the hints come at last.		 Aetéen
Se, stéemerz stéeming tthru mi póewamz,
Se, in mi póewamz ímigrants kantínyuewale kúming aand láanding,
Se, in oreeyáir, tha wígwom, tha trail, tha húnter'z hut, tha fláat-boet, tha máez-leef, tha klaem, tha rued fens, aand tha báakwoodz vílaj,
Se, on tha wun sied tha Wéstern See aand on the úther the Éestern See, hou thae aadváans aand reetréet apón mi póewamz aaz apón thair oen shaurz,
Se, páascherz aand fórasts in mi póewamz — se, áanimalz wíeyald aand taem — se, beeyónd tha Kau, kóuntlas herdz uv búfalo féeding on shaurt kóorle graas,
Se, in mi póewamz, síteez, sólid, vaast, ínland, witth paevd streets, witth íeyern aand stoen édifisaz, séeslas véeyikoolz, aand kómers,
Se, the ménee-sílinderd steem prínting-près — se, the eeléktrik télagraaf stréching akráus tha kóntinant,
Se, tthru Aatláantika'z deptths púlsaz Amáirikan Yúerap réeching, púlsaz uv Yúerap dúele reetérnd,
Se, tha straung aand kwik loekamóetiv aaz it deepórts, páanting, blóewing tha stéem-hwisool,
Se, plóuman plóuwing formz — se, míenerz díging mienz — se, tha númberlas fáaktareez,
Se, makáaniks bíze aat thair bénchaz witth tuelz — se frum amúng them soopéereeyer jújaz, fílasofs, Prézidants, eemérj, drest in wérking drésaz,
Se, lóunjing tthru tha shopz aand feeldz uv the Staets, me wel-beelúvd, klòes-héld bi dae aand niet,
Heer tha loud ékoez uv mi saungz thair — reed tha hints kum aat laast.
19
O camerado close! O you and me at last, and us two only.
O a word to clear one's path ahead endlessly!
O something ecstatic and undemonstrable! O music wild!
O now I triumph — and you shall also;
O hand in hand — O wholesome pleasure — O one more desirer and lover!
O to haste firm holding — to haste, haste on with me.		 Nientéen
Oe kòmeródo kloes! Oe yu aand me aat laast, aand us tueq óenle.
Oe a werd tu kleer wun'z paatth ahéd éndlaslee!
Oe súmtthing ekstáatik aand ùndamónstrabool! Oe myúezik wíeyald!
Oe nou I tríeyumf — aand yu shaal áulso;
Oe haand in haand — Oe hóelsam plézher — Oe wun maur dizíeyerer aand lúver!
Oe tu haest ferm hóelding — tu haest, haest on witth me.
SONG OF MYSELF

1
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

 SAUNG UV MIESÉLF

Wun
I sélabraet miesélf, aand sing miesélf,
Aand hwut I asúem yu shaal asúem,
Faur évre áatam beeláunging tu me aaz good beeláungz tu yu.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.		 I loef aand invíet mi soel,
I leen aand loef aat mi eez abzérving a speer uv súmer graas.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.		 Mi tung, évre áatam uv mi blud, faurmd frum this sóiyal, this air,
Baurn heer uv páarants baurn heer frum páarants tha saem, aand thair páarants tha saem,
I, nou tthèrtee-sévan yeerz oeld in pérfakt heltth beegín,
Hóeping tu sees not til detth.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.		 Kreedz aand skuelz in abáeyans,
Reetíeyering baak a hwieyal safíest aat hwut thae or, but néver fargótan,
I hórber faur good aur baad, I permít tu speek aat évre háazerd,
Náecher witthout chek witth aríjinal énerje.
2
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.		 Tueq
Hóuzaz aand ruemz or fool uv pérfyuemz, tha shelvz or króudad witth pérfyuemz,
I breeth tha fráegrans miesélf aand noe it aand liek it,
Tha dìstiláeshan wood intóksikaet me áulso, but I shaal not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.		 The áatmasfèer iz not a pérfyuem, it haaz no taest uv tha dìstiláeshan, it iz óederlas,
It iz faur mi moutth fauréver, I aam in luv witth it,
I wil go tu tha baangk bi tha wood aand beekúm undisgíezd aand náekad,
I aam maad faur it tu be in kóntaakt witth me.
The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,		 Tha smoek uv mi oen bretth,
Ékoez, rípoolz, buzd hwísperz, lúv-ruet, sílk-tthred, kroch aand vien,
Mi rèsperáeshan aand ínsperàeshan, tha béeting uv mi hort, tha páasing uv blud aand air tthru mi lungz,
Tha snif uv green leevz aand dri leevz, aand uv tha shaur aand dórk-kùlerd sée-roks, aand uv hae in tha born,
The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.		 Tha sound uv tha belcht werdz uv mi vois luest tu the édeez uv tha wind,
A fyu liet kísaz, a fyu embráesaz, a réeching aróund uv ormz,
Tha plae uv shien aand shaed on tha treez aaz tha súpool bouz waag,
Tha dilíet alóen aur in tha rush uv tha streets, aur aláung tha feeldz aand hílsied,
Tha féeling uv heltth, tha fóol-nuen tril, tha saung uv me ríezing frum bed aand méeting tha sun.
Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the earth much?
Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?		 Haav yu rékand a tthóuzand áekerz much? haav yu rékand the ertth much?
Haav yu práaktist so laung tu lern tu reed?
Haav yu felt so proud tu get aat the méening uv póewamz?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look
through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.		 Stop this dae aand niet witth me aand yu shaal pazés the áurijin uv aul póewamz,
Yu shaal pazés tha good uv the ertth aand sun, (thair or mílyanz uv sunz left,)
Yu shaal no láungger taek tthingz aat sékand aur ttherd haand, naur look tthru the iez uv tha ded, naur feed on tha spékterz in books,
Yu shaal not look tthru mi iez éether, naur taek tthingz frum me,
Yu shaal lísan tu aul siedz aand fílter them frum yaur self.
3
I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.		 Tthre
I haav herd hwut tha táukerz wer táuking, tha tauk uv tha beegíning aand the end,
But I du not tauk uv tha beegíning aur the end.
There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.		 Thair wuz néver éne maur insépshan thaan thair iz nou,
Naur éne maur yuetth aur aej thaan thair iz nou,
Aand wil néver be éne maur perfékshan thaan thair iz nou,
Naur éne maur hévan aur hel thaan thair iz nou.
Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.		 Erj aand erj aand erj,
Áulwaez tha próekreeyant erj uv tha woorld.
Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.		 Out uv tha dímnas ópasit éekwalz aadváans, áulwaez súbstans aand ínkrees, áulwaez seks,
Áulwaez a nit uv iedéntite, áulwaez distíngkshan, áulwaez a breed uv lief.
Tu eeláabaraet iz no aváil, lernd aand únlernd feel thaat it iz so.
Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery here we stand.		 Shuer aaz tha moest sértan shuer, plum in the úpriets, wel entréeteed, braest in tha beemz,
Stout aaz a haurs, afékshanat, háute, eeléktrikal,
I aand this místere heer we staand.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Kleer aand sweet iz mi soel, aand kleer aand sweet iz aul thaat iz not mi soel.
Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.		 Laak wun laaks boetth, aand the ùnséen is pruevd bi tha seen,
Til thaat beekúmz unséen aand reeséevz pruef in its tern.
Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,
Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.		 Shóewing tha best aand divíeding it frum tha werst aej véksaz aej,
Nóewing tha pérfakt fítnas aand èkwanímite uv tthingz, hwiel thae diskús I aam síelant, aand go baeth aand aadmíeyer miesélf.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.		 Wélkam iz évre áurgan aand áatribyuet uv me, aand uv éne maan hórte aand kleen,
Not aan inch naur a pórtikool uv aan inch iz víeyal, aand nun shaal be les famílyer thaan tha rest.
I am satisfied — I see, dance, laugh, sing;
As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the
night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread,
Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with their plenty,
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes,
That they turn from gazing after and down the road,
And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent,
Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead?		 I aam sáatisfied — I se, daans, laaf, sing;
Aaz tha húging aand lúving bédfeloe sleeps aat mi sied tthru tha niet, aand witthdráuz aat tha peep uv tha dae witth stéltthe tred,
Léeving me báaskats kúverd witth hwiet tóuwalz swéling tha hous witth thair plénte,
Shaal I poestpóen mi àakseptáeshan aand rèeyalizáeshan aand skreem aat mi iez,
Thaat thae tern frum gáezing áafter aand doun tha roed,
Aand fáurtthwitth síefer aand sho me tu a sent,
Egzáaktle the váalyu uv wun aand egzáaktle tha váalyu uv tueq, aand hwich iz ahéd