Transelating "The Waste Land" |
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The transelations by stanza 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15
0. T.S Eliot When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said - I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart. He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there. You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set, He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you. And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert, He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time, And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said. Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said. Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look. HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said. Others can pick and choose if you can't. But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling. You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique. (And her only thirty-one.) I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face, It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said. (She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.) The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same. You are a proper fool, I said. Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said, What you get married for if you don't want children? HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon, And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot - HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight. Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight. Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.
When the band got mobbed, I said – I didn’t mix miles, though a setter misses YOU’RE UP – PLEASE ITS TIME Now all bears come back, so make your elf a biter He’ll want to know when you’re done moaning – have you? Get yourself something: an edict, a wasteland. You’ve gone all out, Lil, and gotten nicked, that. He said an icer – can’t bear to gaze on you. And no markings on eyes – we said – think of pared birds, In the armed for shears, he will stag a good time, And if you don’t, that’s another will – I said. Office there, shedding – summing of lattice, eh? Then we’ll go to the bank, we said, and gave him a strained book. SHORE UP – PLEASANT TIME? If you don’t like this, we can leave you on it. Others have pits and shoots, like toucans. But if our bear makes off, it won’t be for slack-oftening. Draughts of shame, we made to look like shanties. (And her eyes are only one.) I can’t tell you – pooling elongated glances, Chasing pills we look, for bringing softly. (She’s had five times as many – almost died when younger.) Thickness says it could be a knight, but I’ve never like them much. You gave me a proper soul – we know. But if our bells would leave you be – there is that, at least. When you’re marred for wanting children – SHARE PUPS – PLEAS OR NINE Well, someday we’ll be home, with a small garden gnome And the aching bits will dine in bellyful hotness – SHARD CUPS PEAS FINE MARRED DUCKS SLEEP AND CLIMB Goonight Bill. Goodnight glue. Buenas, maybe. Good – night – Take that – bad times – pleasant evening. Good night, ladies, terrible after-afternoon – sweeting of maybes – the anti-morning – goodnight.
2. Rose Booker When the hand got lopped off, I said – I didn’t gargle loudly, though a mess of slurs YOU SHUT UP, PLEASE ITS NINE Now all stars stay down, so make the cut wider They’ll want to know that you’re done groaning – you haven't? Get your ass up: an addict shouldn't waste time. We're all out, Tom, you got ta nick that. He said a junky – can’t bear the pepper spray on her. And bleeding all out – she said – think of the pink elephants, On the circus front passed Vegas, They'll give him a good time, And if they don’t, others out there will – I said. Abandon lots there, shredding – sums as green as lettuce, eh? Then we’ll go to the bank, we said, and then gave him a stained book. SURE SHOW HIM A GOOD TIME If you don’t like this, we can take 10 off it. Others have bongs and cigs, like 7-11. But if our deal takes off, it won’t be for slacking off. Droughts of lame brand, we made to look like shadows. (And they're mind became blurred.) I can tell you – Stealing sideways glances, Chasing pills we thought brings it down softly. (She’s had five times as many – almost died when younger.) Thickness says it'll be alright, but I’ve never thought much of that. You gave me a proper hell– we know. But if our tails would wag, you'd be – there, at least. When you’re maimed for protecting children – SHUT UP – PLEASE ITS NINE Well, someday we’ll be home, with a small red truck And our aching backs 'ill lie on billow softness – SHUT UP – PLEASE ITS NINE SHUT UP – PLEASE ITS NINE Goodnight Tom. Goodnight Dick. Be good, Maybell. Goodnight – Take that out before 10 – cold evening. Good night, sweating off maybes – the anti-drug – goodnight.
Why did hope give up the ghost, he asked. You did great back there, a memory in slants WE SHOULD YELL, PUT IT NOW Never should squirrels leave, make-up, curls, within this wish of knowledge, there, you’ve done is now, haven’t you? Gaze upon our open land, description would take too long. Dick and Harry are in, what about Nick? How about a jump? The bear boxes can smell of salt. Blood isn’t as attractive, you say, when you talk to everyone. Please, we can find people of various creeds to give it up. When we do, no one else wants to, he says. And bands live here, slamming, something great like elephants, when they get on a river, I say, and go save a bank. SHOULD STOP. HAVE YOUR GRAND TAKE When you find something to refuse, I won’t let you. Bend and save, our supermarkets ask. When are these days, you say, offhanded. Down the lane, bend in the road, shake (And turn multiple circles below.) Can she remind you, of sliding, taking bases, Or was it stealing? Alcohol isn’t a depressant (We said this four times – and she believed us.) Through the forest, will everything be – let’s not think of this. A one way ticket to Heaven – this never happened. The dogs you kicked still follow you – did this? While adults make projects – WE SHOULD PUT YELL IT NOW What did you holler? A large yellow bus Came around the bend just then, I was laying – WE SHOULD PUT YELL IT NOW WE SHOULD PUT YELL IT NOW Farewell Tales. Farewell Downer. Keep it steady, Abalone. Farwell – Don’t forget your cold pack for the morning. Fare thee well, loves, for the night – Swear your story, too late, farewell.
Why did you give it up, she asked. You had it back there, a security in indecision STOP, PUT IT DOWN. Never should you doll up, curls, irons, within a girl's paranoia, you've done it now, haven't you? Glare at your open eyes, the truth would take too long. Richard always baked lemon bars to sweeten the numbers. How about some blood? The fishes underwater can smell that. A bleeding heart isn't as attractive, is it, when you know where it's coming from. Please. We can search and search the stars to take it back. When you do, when we do, when she doesn't, he says,and we live here, this is our town,when we take this place over, I say, let's go with a bang. SHOULD STOP. TAKE MY HAND Please don't refuse, I won't let you. Stop and bend, our fingers ask. When will it finally come, you ask, offhand. Down the road, maybe (and turn your mind in circles meanwhile.) Can you remind me, please, of sliding, taking bases or was it stealing" Questions don't lead to answers (we were told this twenty times over-and believed it.) Through hidden highways, let anything come-let's not think of us. A one way road to obsession-we never expected The dreams you thought you threw away still come-don't they? While your worst make progress-PUT IT DOWN NOW What was it you said? Wait a little bit longer come around to see, I was lying. YOU SHOULD TELL ME NOW YOU SHOULD TELL ME HOW to say farewell. Farewell, keep it real, apart for a time- don't forget to pack your morning star. For now, my love, goodnight- swear that you'll be true, I remembered too late. Fare well.
5. Andy Iser Her: “you gave it up” Him: “stop, put it down” Her: “I should use it. You’ve killed me. You’ve killed us.” Him: “Recognize the truth.” Richard could smell the blood a mile away. He baked lemon bars – they did nothing. She thought how fish in the sea never had their hearts broken. They never sank. She felt unattractive in her bathing suit walking away from the condominium. He followed her out with his hands open. She took them again. It’s all part of the process, they knew. Matching rings clicked as they hit each other as hands crossed. Night fell and the stars were out, still they stood. She told him she never wanted to leave this position. That they could stay together forever if they never drifted apart. Reminders of past problems they glimpsed a shooting star, she did – he actually sneezed and missed it. She asked if he had seen the shooting star. He thought she was sarcastic. He shook his head. Her questions got to him like a sliding down the frets of a guitar. Naturally he needed some sleep, he wanted to go inside. He shook her off and walked in the sliding door, the look clicked as he shut it. He shut it just a bit too hard. She tried not to think about his leaving. She followed and met a locked door. She was obsessed with him since 17, She never dreamed they’d fall apart, she leaned on the glass crying. He got into bed. He picked up the remote and turned the television on. Her: “put it down now unlock this thing let me in!” Him: “how long you going to wait before you come in here?” Her: “tell me why you locked the door” They’re young. She got back inside as morning overtook the stars.
Her: “Who saved up?” Him: “Drop, could it drown” Her: “I would move it. You’ve willed deeds. You’ve willed fuss.” Him: “The hog buys the truth.” Rich ward should sell the mud a while a day. He faked eleven stars – they read no such thing. She bought brown swishes in the sink every bad day hearts soaking. The lever drank. She spelt under traction in her fading fruit stalking a day from the cons of minion. He wallowed, her pout withheld bands woven. She shook down a stain. It’s all heart of the masses, they threw. Latching brings crickets as they bit leeches over black sands embossed. White bell and the wars stood out, will them good. She sold him silver levers fainting to weave this vision. That they should weigh to get her for better if they ever sifted the parts. Deep mind stirs of last problems, they cinched, rooting far, she died – he factually wheezed and kissed it. She basked in her head seeing the shooting afar. He bought sheilds of plastic. He booked his bed. Her quest runs Nature's alley, he weeded from
weeds, he flaunted He took her off and stalked on the widening floor, the book sticked as he gut it. He gut it justice sits too far. She vied not to wink aloud this evening. She hollowed and set a mocked bore. She was dressed with whims since seven dreams, She forever seemed laid far from start, she gleamed on the brass lining. He sat in the head. He dripped down the moat and learned the telling vision on. Her: “But it frowned down on top this ring vet means!” Him: “how strong you rowing to bait before you sum in fear?” Her: “Sell me high, you talked Theodore” There stung. She rots flat inside as mourning over books of wars.
It was she who saved us. It was he who dropped us down. She pulled weeds from the hill; the soil was angry. He hogged the truth (which was fine with us) which way should we go to sell our mud? A mile a day. He faked walking on a rope high in the air - there was no rope. We sold brownies indistinct - each bad. We said, "our hearts soak of mud." With cavities of earth we spelled words by the tractors. We wrote, "from walking a day, a cow a million." He saw us, and disapproved. She let the ink fall on the paper and we watched it spread. Someone bought something; with the fall of night, watching brings crickets and stirs them to song.
White surprised us. The war, we were told. We saw her holding his hands. That the earth would split if they ever traded parts! The falling snow covered everything we had previously written; We jumped in it, searching. "A basket?" one of us said, his voice rising more than we thought necessary. "Why do you give us a basket? Give us a bed!" She smiled, smoothed his shirt, and pointed at nothing. Naturally, we weeded weeds from earth still untouched by snow. He took her off behind the mountain. When he returned he told us we had gone too far. She tried not to think this evening, succeeding. She dressed up in green; we pulled out weeds. We imagined pulling out weeds from her dress. In the morning we told her of our seven dreams. She seemed shorter and taller and younger and older and exactly the same. She sat in her bed. We walked. Snow melted, mixing earth. It was she who first would frown and later would sweat. It was he whom we don't remember ever having met. She said, "set up shop. Today we sell high!" There we hung, waiting to add a sum to the books of war.
8. Devin Tasker She saved it for us. He’s the one who let if fall. She weeded the hills, calming the soil. He guarded the truth from himself. (That used to be okay). Why don’t you go sell the weeds amid the day? You think you walk the sky. We sold ourselves sweets, each sour. Our hearts were caked with mud. We spelled words by tearing the ground. We wrote nonsense. He knew the truth and knew better. She spilled her ink And watched it bleed on the paper. With the night came purchasable spies, Crickets to stir song and dance. Innocence surprised us. We were told only of war. We saw them in hand. The earth would fissure, if ever they changed. Then the blizzard covered our story. We scrambled through it, searching. Time to quit? – A voice eerily rising in pitch. Why do you give in so quickly? Give us a bit! Another gasped, hid the writ, and pointed at nothing. We moved to the weedy hills and continued the search. He and she left to the mountain. She returned only to redirect our search. She kept her thoughts from wandering. She moved amongst the weeds as we pulled them. We dreamed of pulling her dress of its weeds. Upon waking, the dreams became real. She shrunk then grew, in composure and age. At last she sat. We left. The snow melted, baring the earth. She’s the one who had frowned only to repent. He’s the one who would never relent. She once told us to sell our hearts. There we hung them, withering To add another story to a book of war.
All arms, all three eyes, couldn't save it falling through, a blue throat gulped Fields of grains withered, calling out to her Judas puckers his lips (winemaking, an ancient practice) Men on small bicycles circle through the park: "Bud, bud bud…" We live in dirt, walk on it sweet-sour pork sometimes the only consolation after casting spells into the sky rote rote rote again and again They all saw the spines curving from sitting so long, sinking flowers bloomed outside They chased lies in the dark, everywhere they went crickets fell silent Each time the chirping returned they were scared it was a siren Warsaw in hands Great p-waves, s-waves rippled out, an unmoving epicenter duststorms filled in the cracks They all fell into the cracks, reaching Exodus, red tide? -chanting emerges from the dust "We are sinking!" grit clogs joints and faces all look the same under grains muffled crickets mark where nobody has been. They moved to the sea, zero altitude. The dust caked, only on outsides filling the spaces in their minds One spread the water with pulling arms others grabbed at the soft hairs on his forearms, pulled the seaweed from his triton, his white beard they felt his flesh under numb fingers he rose on a wet horse, regal, shrugged he fell. Oceans recede and the earth lies naked he had muscled his lips into submission and they understood his arms he threw water over dust, they, turgid, wavering Reptiles retreated to the depths.
10. Emma Tome all alms all these layers of robes cannot save us and crawling through a coolly lit tunnel feeling pangs, slithering, crawling still, soft just you flatten these ship parts and make winters an ancient history menthol smell cycling slowly and dark, bubbling and weavers hurt - we chalk upon it. sweetening souring cords of wooden reverberations black and tracking swells as they decline written cold and spoken thin whey shakes the spines of books, swerving apart and tinkering light. cowering entombed, they cried, they erased pieces of bark everywhere: the earth working itself thin, turning scarred and silent, sawing wars in halves the great depraved epidermis rented its rooms rusted corners of coroner’s attack the yellow freezing tide excited, us, mostly, ranting perfect under sooty plains. ruffled ticker tape escaping there, bodies thin. and shoved to Cicero’s platitudes, fusty rakes pouring turbulent shaving the erasures and broken tines ones praying the way with paltry arms others sagged soft and declared their allegiances before us, bulls bucking slow, spiteful heard, touched, the rest of crumbed malingers they rose to match the hoarse brutal tongues and dispelled – oh see then, this concession baked him into muscle, into cold fruition, and then soft spoken alms through cold, cold, rust and black heart beating tiled gray and turned to dust.
11. Aly Wong Prayer cannot stop my flesh from burning, the gas seeping through the tunnels is black, and thick and it pours into my lungs, my skin. I think sailboats water fresh baked bread. I think winter and chemistry class when I learned about the dangerous of mining. Safe. My mother was a weaver. Sweetening and souring the wooden prayers white and soft in their declination. Written warm and spoken loud she could have written books and poems and created her own light. If not for the barking dogs the earth so cruel, the land so dry and scarred and silent. Sawing our lives in half, giving us pestilence instead of happiness. Rusty love, she used to call it. And now the freezing tide swells beats down on the once perfect plains, tick tick tick own bodies thin. My turbulent soul, ha! A mild reminder of my poetic youth sapped away with the realities of life. Erase my haggard mouth, the broken jaw, the way I once clasp my hands together in prayer. Away my sagging stomach filled with water and come back my youthful spirited eyes. Rising to match the tongues of my classmates whipping the words back and forth, arguments false, yet witty. My muscles harden and mouth widens. Look through the rust, look past black hearts. Beating, Tick tick tick Dust. |
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