All All And All The Dry Worlds Lever Poem by Dylan Thomas
All All And All The Dry Worlds Lever
I
All all and all the dry worlds lever,
Stage of the ice, the solid ocean,
All from the oil, the pound of lava.
City of spring, the governed flower,
Turns in the earth that turns the ashen
Towns around on a wheel of fire.
How now my flesh, my naked fellow,
Dug of the sea, the glanded morrow,
Worm in the scalp, the staked and fallow.
All all and all, the corpse's lover,
Skinny as sin, the foaming marrow,
All of the flesh, the dry worlds lever.
II
Fear not the waking world, my mortal,
Fear not the flat, synthetic blood,
Nor the heart in the ribbing metal.
Fear not the tread, the seeded milling,
The trigger and scythe, the bridal blade,
Nor the flint in the lover's mauling.
Man of my flesh, the jawbone riven,
Know now the flesh's lock and vice,
And the cage for the scythe-eyed raver.
Know, O my bone, the jointed lever,
Fear not the screws that turn the voice,
And the face to the driven lover.
III
All all and all the dry worlds couple,
Ghost with her ghost, contagious man
With the womb of his shapeless people.
All that shapes from the caul and suckle,
Stroke of mechanical flesh on mine,
Square in these worlds the mortal circle.
Flower, flower the people's fusion,
O light in zenith, the coupled bud,
And the flame in the flesh's vision.
Out of the sea, the drive of oil,
Socket and grave, the brassy blood,
Flower, flower, all all and all.
What is that a copy paste on almost all the big poets who are no more alive.
The governed flower! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Dylan oeddech chi'n un o fath gyda meddwl gwych. Nawr yn ysgriffenu barddoniaeth yn y nefoedd. Nos da Dylan.
The incomparable Dylan Thomas..always a revelation to read one from a past master.
All all and all the dry worlds couple, Ghost with her ghost, contagious man With the womb of his shapeless people. a great poem of Dylon Thomas
The forces of creativity and destruction seemed to go hand in hand with the genius that was Dylan Thomas. This poem exemplifies this profound inner struggle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 8:32:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Thomas's style played heck with conventional strict verse forms. His images flourished in the heart first then the brain. He seemed tormented by the presence of death in life, every poem I have read so far has the shadow of death flung over it.. Tormented but he still saw the unity of it all, life and death and new life linked the generations marching from Adam and Eve to the modern day. But still his poetry was tortured by the presence of death.: