(...) Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives shelter, the cricket no relief,
There's shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a hand full of dust (...)
T.S. Eliot, Selected Poems: Including The Waste Land, The Hollow Men, and Ash Wednesday, Harvest/ HBJ Book, 1964.
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives shelter, the cricket no relief,
There's shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a hand full of dust (...)
T.S. Eliot, Selected Poems: Including The Waste Land, The Hollow Men, and Ash Wednesday, Harvest/ HBJ Book, 1964.
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