OTROabril

y ceRRaL...


fragment from The Waste Land

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD 

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding    
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing    
Memory and desire, stirring    
Dull roots with spring rain.    
Winter kept us warm, covering           
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding    
A little life with dried tubers. ...


10. Hysteria

As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. I was drawn in by short gasps, inhaled at each momentary recovery, lost finally in the dark caverns of her throat, bruised by the ripple of unseen muscles. An elderly waiter with trembling hands was hurriedly spreading a pink and white checked cloth over the rusty green iron table, saying: “If the lady and gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden, if the lady and gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden…” I decided that if the shaking of her breasts could be stopped, some of the fragments of the afternoon might be collected, and I concentrated my attention with careful subtlety to this end. 


fragment from THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK

LET us go then, you and I,
        When the evening is spread out against the sky
        Like a patient etherized upon a table;
        Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
        The muttering retreats
        Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
        And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
        Streets that follow like a tedious argument
        Of insidious intent
        To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
        Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
       
        Let us go and make our visit.
        In the room the women come and go
        Talking of Michelangelo. ...


T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)