The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroy er .
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that dri ves the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that w hirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.
The l ips of tim e l eech to t he fo untain head;
Love drips and g a th ers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dum b to tell a weather's wind
How time ha s ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb How at my sheet goes
The Same crooked worm.
urgendo The force which drives the flower in the green quill,
drives my green age; impetus that shakes the roots of trees
is my destruction.
and dumb I can not say to the rose withered
this winter fever fold anc h my youth.
The force that drives the water through the rocks,
driving my red blood, the same that dries sources who cry,
my cakes, and I am dumb to cry
my veins
that quell'alpestre polla sucks the same mouth.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
sommuove the bottom silt, that between the winds, now the shroud
of my sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging
How much of my clay who hangs himself.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
drop love, swollen, but the fallen blood
soften her sorrows.
And I am dumb to tell the wind that rises
paradise that is marked by time around stars:
dumb to tell the lover's tomb
that appears on my bed the same wrinkled worm.
(translation of E Ugenio Montale)
[Dated September 3, 1933 in Notebooks ; collection 18 Poems in .]
At first to read much of Thomas, in many Index Q lmost instinctively theme of death as one of the dominant themes in the imagination of the Welsh poet, but risking d the improper or at least give a partial view of the whole universe poetic. Death in Thomas, in fact, you configure as part of an indestructible and perpetual cycle, which inexorably leads to life, rebirth. It 's that cycle of birth-death present in many of his poems ( A process in the weather of the heart , Before I knocked , I dreamed my genesis , I, my intricate image, And Death Shall Have No Dominion , Twenty-four years ) and stories youth the conflict between forces pancreatic and destructive forces that is part of the rhythm and unity of the cosmos, so that not only the life implies death and vice versa, but both share the same essence. Thomas is in fact a vision of death just as when required, ensuring the validity of that natural cycle and that each time a prelude to a rebirth. The synthesis of continuity is the resolution of the conflict between creation and destruction, so that in the end nothing is created and nothing really is destroyed. So Peter, the protagonist of the story "The Visitor" , finding himself at night in the valley of Jarvis, exult before the breakup of death in which you are ago Cendo way a new life. The transformation of the landscape is fierce and grim, like a lot of imagination to Thomas, but the hard work of her death prelude to a complex and vigorous renewal.
This should not suggest a positive connotation at all: Thomas man is chased by death from birth, according to quell'equivalenza womb and tomb , borrowed from John Donne, which is the key to most of his poetic imagination. For Thomas the body, illness, death, decomposition, fan no part nature of the reality of not less than one tree, which has its roots in the land, and it is this " earthiness" of the man who joins her in the cycle of nature: "The greatest description of Our 'earthiness 'is to be found in John Donne's' Devotions,' When He Describes man as earth of the earth, His body earth, Is His h air a wild shrub growing out of the land. " writes the same Dylan in a letter to Pamela Hansford Johnson on May 5, 1933. All the sexual symbolism, animal and plant that we find throughout the early work is due precisely thomasiana to this vision and magmatic units ria of reality - as when the story " The Lemon" , the arm of Nant protagonist turns into a tree branch.
But it is not mere metaphor, since the power of language g Thurs Thomas is just to go further: the images go beyond the symbolic meaning , p Erdonio their function allusion, and the similarity is configured as a true metamorphosis FOSI, in which an object becomes its equivalent subjective literally transformed by the gaze of the protagonist's inner to a story or the poetic. Co me notes Francesco Binni , reducing the world to the human representation of it is the world, the only possible world: what may seem like a half is really boring a finding. For this reason much of the early work of Thomas is
particularly obscure "all-inclusive in a language that speaks everything - mind, body, world - is a simultaneous talk, not a metaphorical rimandaredall'un pious no other, an explanation in terms of one other. "So clearly Korg : " The chief source of obscurity In These stories is the fact imagined That Things Are Expressed in the language of factual statement INSTEAD of the language of metaphor. "
Is my destroy er .
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that dri ves the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that w hirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.
The l ips of tim e l eech to t he fo untain head;
Love drips and g a th ers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dum b to tell a weather's wind
How time ha s ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb How at my sheet goes
The Same crooked worm.
urgendo The force which drives the flower in the green quill,
drives my green age; impetus that shakes the roots of trees
is my destruction.
and dumb I can not say to the rose withered
this winter fever fold anc h my youth.
The force that drives the water through the rocks,
driving my red blood, the same that dries sources who cry,
my cakes, and I am dumb to cry
my veins
that quell'alpestre polla sucks the same mouth.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
sommuove the bottom silt, that between the winds, now the shroud
of my sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging
How much of my clay who hangs himself.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
drop love, swollen, but the fallen blood
soften her sorrows.
And I am dumb to tell the wind that rises
paradise that is marked by time around stars:
dumb to tell the lover's tomb
that appears on my bed the same wrinkled worm.
(translation of E Ugenio Montale)
At first to read much of Thomas, in many Index Q lmost instinctively theme of death as one of the dominant themes in the imagination of the Welsh poet, but risking d the improper or at least give a partial view of the whole universe poetic. Death in Thomas, in fact, you configure as part of an indestructible and perpetual cycle, which inexorably leads to life, rebirth. It 's that cycle of birth-death present in many of his poems ( A process in the weather of the heart , Before I knocked , I dreamed my genesis , I, my intricate image, And Death Shall Have No Dominion , Twenty-four years ) and stories youth the conflict between forces pancreatic and destructive forces that is part of the rhythm and unity of the cosmos, so that not only the life implies death and vice versa, but both share the same essence. Thomas is in fact a vision of death just as when required, ensuring the validity of that natural cycle and that each time a prelude to a rebirth. The synthesis of continuity is the resolution of the conflict between creation and destruction, so that in the end nothing is created and nothing really is destroyed. So Peter, the protagonist of the story "The Visitor" , finding himself at night in the valley of Jarvis, exult before the breakup of death in which you are ago Cendo way a new life. The transformation of the landscape is fierce and grim, like a lot of imagination to Thomas, but the hard work of her death prelude to a complex and vigorous renewal. 
This should not suggest a positive connotation at all: Thomas man is chased by death from birth, according to quell'equivalenza womb and tomb , borrowed from John Donne, which is the key to most of his poetic imagination. For Thomas the body, illness, death, decomposition, fan no part nature of the reality of not less than one tree, which has its roots in the land, and it is this " earthiness" of the man who joins her in the cycle of nature: "The greatest description of Our 'earthiness 'is to be found in John Donne's' Devotions,' When He Describes man as earth of the earth, His body earth, Is His h air a wild shrub growing out of the land. " writes the same Dylan in a letter to Pamela Hansford Johnson on May 5, 1933. All the sexual symbolism, animal and plant that we find throughout the early work is due precisely thomasiana to this vision and magmatic units ria of reality - as when the story " The Lemon" , the arm of Nant protagonist turns into a tree branch. But it is not mere metaphor, since the power of language g Thurs Thomas is just to go further: the images go beyond the symbolic meaning , p Erdonio their function allusion, and the similarity is configured as a true metamorphosis FOSI, in which an object becomes its equivalent subjective literally transformed by the gaze of the protagonist's inner to a story or the poetic. Co me notes Francesco Binni , reducing the world to the human representation of it is the world, the only possible world: what may seem like a half is really boring a finding. For this reason much of the early work of Thomas is
particularly obscure "all-inclusive in a language that speaks everything - mind, body, world - is a simultaneous talk, not a metaphorical rimandaredall'un pious no other, an explanation in terms of one other. "So clearly Korg : " The chief source of obscurity In These stories is the fact imagined That Things Are Expressed in the language of factual statement INSTEAD of the language of metaphor. " 
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