THE FISHER
	(from "The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot)
		

adame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes.  Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see.  I do not find
The Hanged Man.  Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you.  If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days. (ll.43-59)

By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept...
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
But at my back in a cold blast I hear
The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.
A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I was fishing in the dull canal
On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
And on king my father's death before him. (ll. 182-192)

I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam uti chelidon--O swallow swallow
Le Prince d'Aquitaine a la tour abolie
These fragments I have shored against my ruins 
Why then Ile fit you.  Hieronymo's mad againe.
Datta. Dayadhvam.  Damyata.
    Shantih    shantih    shantih (ll. 424-433)
										

 

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