Poetry: "Journey of the Magi" by T. S. Eliot (read by Hugh Laurie)
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- Опубліковано 8 лис 2020
- "Journey of the Magi" by T. S. Eliot
"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.”
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Source: Poetry Please (2012)
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆
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A háromkirályok utazása (Magyar)
"Hideg volt odamenet,
Épp legrosszabb része az évnek
Az útra, s ilyen hosszu útra:
A nagy télvíz idején"
S a tevék feltörve, lesántulva, csökönyösen
Az olvadó hóba feküdtek.
Volt, mikor visszakivántuk
A nyári palotákat a dombokon, a függőkerteket
A sörbethozó, selymes lányokat.
Itt meg a káromkodó, zúgolódó tevehajcsárok,
Akik megszöktek, mert kellett nekik a szesz meg a nő,
S a kihúnyó tábortüzek, a hiányzó sátrak,
S a mogorva várak, az ellenséges városok,
S a mocskos falvak, ahol az ember bőrit is lenyúzzák:
Nehéz volt odamenet.
Végül inkább egész éjszaka utaztunk,
Sebtiben szundikálva,
S a fülünkbe dúdoltak a hangok, szólván,
Hogy mindez csak őrület.
Aztán hajnalra leértünk egy enyhe völgybe,
Párás volt, a hóövezet alatt, növényektől illatozó;
Folyó rohant benne s egy vizimalom verte a sötétet,
S három fa nyúlt az alacsony égbe,
S egy öreg, fehér ló ügetett el a mezőn.
Aztán egy kocsmához értünk, szőlőlevelek a fejgerenda fölött,
Nyitott ajtók előtt hat kéz vetett kockát ezüst pénzdaradokért,
S a lábak rugdosták az üres borostömlőket.
De útbaigazítást nem kaptunk, haladtunk hát tovább
S megérkeztünk este, egy perccel se hamarabb
Találtunk arra a helyre: mondhatni, kielégítő volt.
Mindez régen volt, emlékszem én,
És megtenném újra, de vegyétek észbe
Ezt vegyétek észbe
Ezt: miért vezettek végig ezen az úton,
Születésért vagy Halálért? Volt Születés, igaz,
Bizonyítékot kaptunk rá, s nem kétes, láttam születést, halált,
De azt hittem különböznek egymástól; ez a Születés
Kemény és keserű haldoklás volt nekünk, olyan volt, mint a Halál, a mi halálunk.
Visszatértünk székhelyünkre, ezekbe a Királyságokba,
De itt nincs többé nyugtunk, a régi függelemben,
Köröttünk idegen nép csüng istenein.
Másféle halálnak örülnék.
Vas István
The best read version I've heard of this beautiful poem
This could be the greatest thing Hugh L has ever done. A treasure in a fallen world.
"A cold coming they had of it at this time of the year, just the worst time of the year to take a journey, and specially a long journey. The ways deep, the weather sharp, the days short, the sun farthest off, in 'the very dead of winter." (Lancelot Andrewes, 1622)
Read as though one had never heard it before, properly focused as poetry reading seldom is, with new meaning and significance.
Wonderful poem read with great feeling.
As an exercise, or just for the richness, listen to a few different readings of anything you can. I really think you might get a very different view of this, straight from the weary, aged heart of one of the kings himself remembering, from Edward Petherbridge, also on UA-cam.
“A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.”
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
True. So good.
What a great voice for this reading 👌
Love this!
Thank you..
Totally understandable ..
Thank you
A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
and running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Świetne!
Unexpectedly dark. I love it.
❤
"Satisfactory" lol This could be one of the nonchalant coldest lines.
I say, nothing is set in stone, and the moment they realized the irony, they should have gifted a sword perhaps, maybe a token from somewhere far north or further east.
Not what I was expecting. Very dark and sombre.