Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
and how the wind doth ramm,
Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, ’tis why I am, Goddamm,
So ‘gainst the winter’s balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm,
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.
This poem touched our hearts, we will always remember this poem and take it to our graves.
great…arousing and stimulating
great…very arousing and stimulating…really gets me going
thanks to you, dai, for the hint at the middle-english poem!! guess this will help for “The Seafarer”, as well…
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It may not make sense to you, but that’s because of your limited knowledge of Imagism. Pound is obviously a genius when it comes to such poetry. If not, how could he translate his poems to such a difficult text?
of a middle-english summer poem. It makes perfect sense if you can get through some of the middle english phrases. Here is the original poem and a translation.
Text:
1.
Sumer is icumen in,
Lhude sing, cuccu!
Groweth sed and bloweth med
And springth the wude nu.
Sing, cuccu!
2.
Awe bleteth after lomb,
Lhouth after calve cu
Bulloc sterteth, bucke ferteth.
Murie sing, cuccu!
Cuccu, cuccu,
Wel singes thu, cuccu.
Ne swik thu naver nu!
Sing cuccu nu, sing cuccu!
Sing cuccu nu, sing cuccu!
Translation:
Spring has come in
Loudly sing, cuckoo!
Grows the seed and blooms the meadow
And the woods springs now
Sing, cuckoo! 5
The ewe bleats after the lamb
The calf lows after the cow
The bull leaps, the buck leaps, twisting.
Merrily sing, cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, 10
Well sing you, cuckoo.
Nor cease you ever now!
Sing cuckoo now, sing cuckoo!
Sing cuckoo now, sing cuckoo!
This guy makes absolutely no sense, if i write down the first thing that came to my head it would make a better poem than any one hes ever made. It amazes my how some who makes no sense can get so much attention but then again that’s probably why he gets attention.
well, I think it’s the parody on the Old English song ‘summer is icummen’ or something like that. but then Mr. Pound was more depressed, and not as happy as his old english ancesters
hmmmm… i wonder just what this poem is trying to say. maybe hes really mad or highly excited about something. I do know that that is a surefire way to go to hell.