William Butler Yeats (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939) Slouching Towards Bethlehem takes its title from the poem The Second Coming, composed by Irish poet W. B. Yeats in 1919. The poem uses Christian imagery regarding the Apocalypse and second coming allegorically to describe the atmosphere of post-war Europe. The poem is considered a major work of Modernist poetry and has been reprinted in several collections, including The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry. The poem was written in the aftermath of the First World War and was at first entitled The Second Birth. Lyrics Turning and turning Within the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer Things fall apart The center cannot hold And a blood dimmed tide Is loosed upon the world Nothing is sacred The ceremony sinks Innocence is drowned In anarchy The best lack conviction Given some time to think And the worst are full of passion Without mercy Surely some revelation is at hand Surely its the second coming And the wrath has finally taken form For what is this rough beast Its hour come at last Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Hoping and hoping As if by my weak faith The spirit of this world Would heal and rise Vast are the shadows That straddle and strafe And struggle in the darkness Troubling my eyes Shaped like a lion It has the head of a man With a gaze as blank And pitiless as the sun And its moving its slow thighs Across the desert sands Through dark indignant Reeling falcons Surely some revelation is at hand Surely its the second coming And the wrath has finally taken form For what is this rough beast Its hour come at last Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Raging and raging It rises from the deep Opening its eyes After twenty centuries Vexed to a nightmare Out of a stony sleep By a rocking cradle By the Sea of Galilee Surely some revelation is at hand Surely its the second coming And the wrath has finally taken form For what is this rough beast Its hour come at last Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born Il Secondo Avvento (W.B.Yeats) Girando e girando nella spirale che si allarga il falco non può udire il falconiere; Le cose crollano; il centro non può reggere; Mera anarchia è scatenata sul mondo; La corrente torbida di sangue è scatenata, ovunque Il rito dellinnocenza è sommerso; Ai migliori manca ogni convinzione, mentre i peggiori Sono pieni di appassionata intensità. Di certo qualche rivelazione è vicina; Di certo il Secondo Avvento è vicino. Il secondo Avvento! Appena dette queste parole Una vasta immagine emergente dallo Spiritus Mundi Mi turba la vista: in qualche luogo tra le sabbie del deserto Una forma - corpo di leone, testa di uomo, Lo sguardo inespressivo e spietato come il sole - Si muove sulle sue lente cosce, mentre tutto allintorno Turbinano le ombre degli sdegnati uccelli del deserto. Le tenebre scendono ancora; ma adesso io so che venti secoli di sonno pietroso Furono turbati fino allincubo dal dondolar di una culla. E quale mai informe bestia, giunta finalmente la sua ora, Striscia verso Betlemme per nascere?
Posted on: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 14:49:20 +0000
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