Tuesday, May 30, 2006


Trickle drops,my blue veins leaving
O drps of me,trickle,slow drops,
Candid from me falling,drip,bleeding drops,
From wounds made me free you whence you were prison `d,
from my face,from my forehead and lips,
from my breast,from within where I was conceal`d,press forth red
drops,confession drops,
Stain every page,stain every song I sing,every word I say,bloody drops,
Let them know your scarlet heat,let them glisten,
Saturate them with yourself all ashamed and wet,
Glow upon all I have written or shall write,bleeding drops,
Let it all be seen in your light,blushing drops.

Walt Whitman,north american poet 1860

1 comment:

cinamuse said...

What a beautiful birthday tribute to Walt Whitman! Thank you for posting his poem, Jorge. WW has always been one of my favorite poets.

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.


Walt Whitman
Leaves of Grass BOOK III
Song of Myself
Section 1.