PENSIVE and faltering,
The words, the dead, I write;
For living are the Dead;
(Haply the only living, only real,
And I the apparition--I the spectre.)
I really dont understand the poem at all, if the living are the dead then why are the happy living, by inferance the happy are the dead
I honestly don't quite understand this poem. I think it has a very good rhythm to it.....it is talking about the dead, but what does everybody think of it?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think Whitman is referring to himself as a ghost (apparition) , sitting back, being pensive and watching and writing....I don't know for sure...