Becoming already a man leder efter en kvinde i cottbus creator, Putting myself here and now to the ambush'd womb of the shadows.
From the rocks of the river, swinging and chirping over my head, Calling my name from flower-beds, vines, tangled underbrush, Lighting on every moment of my life, Bussing my body with soft balsamic busses, Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them.
Every condition promulges not only itself, it promulges what grows after and out of itself, And the dark hush promulges as much as any.
I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development.
Immense have been the preparations for me, Faithful and friendly the arms that have help'd.The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.25 Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out.All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me, Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul.Vivas to those who have fail'd!You are also asking me questions and I hear you, I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself.Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling.From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.21 I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new.
I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, And all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge but the rim of the farther systems.
Earth of departed sunset-earth of the mountains misty-topt!
What are you doing?
I plead for my brothers and sisters.
Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop, They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through.Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it?Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out.Your milky stream pale strippings of my life!43 I do not despise you priests, all time, the world over, My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths, Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern, Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five.Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you!Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as grass, uncomb'd head, laughter, and naivete, Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes and emanations, They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers, They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath, they fly.A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.