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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MY HAND TREMBLES, by FRANCIS PICABIA First Line: The bells are singing to wake the dead Last Line: Like birds of the fields. Subject(s): Dadaism; Death; Fear; Dead, The | |||
The bells are singing to wake the dead we go along our way lost in the crowd; like birds of the fields. Trees, flowers, and animals, are beings more sensitive than men. But I, I have a blindfold over my eyes, not to see the sunsets; the sunsets are not beautiful enough and make me weep; the moon is not beautiful enough; women are not beautiful enough; only the armourers' shops allure me, they charm me because I do not like to hunt, I do not like to fight, and I'm afraid to die. One day my grandfather said to my dad: It's as hard to break from death as it is from life; and I found the thought so beautiful that I shrugged my shoulders and discreetly tried to turn the conversation. Life is insensate; spring is in autumn autumn in spring summer in winter and winter in summer; I'd rather have my tears and my new hat. I shuffle underfoot the butterflies so daintily turned in color for all beauty is natural vice but the bells are singing to wake the dead like birds of the fields. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 2. LOS CIGARILLOS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |
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