Chapter 19 19

1 The majestic music of the storm, Then the strong wind that gallops and howls across the prairie, The humming and trembling of the forest canopy--the flute of the mountains, Human shadows - the latent form of your orchestras, You, serenade of phantoms wary of instruments, Mix the languages ​​of all nations with the sounds of nature; You are like the chords of great composers - you are the chorus, You invisible, free religious dances - you from the East, The humility of your rivers, the roar of your rushing waterfalls, The gunshots of your cavalry from afar, With the responses of the various bugles in the barracks,

All this tumultuously assembled fills the deep midnight, oppresses me, powerless weakling, when I enter the lonely bedroom, You guys, how did you catch me? 2 Come forth, my soul, and let the rest rest, Listen, don't miss it, they're watching you, They bid farewell to midnight and entered my bedroom, For you, yo soul, dance and sing. A song for a happy day, A wedding march, a duet between bride and groom, With lips of love, hearts of lovers brimming with love, Cheeks flushed with excitement and fragrance, and friendly faces of young and old in the entourage, To the melody of the flute and the singing harp.

The loud drums come, Victoria!You can see the cracked and flying flag in the smoke, those frustrated the noise of the audience? Can the clamor of a victorious army be heard? (Alas, souls! those women's sips, those wounded groans of pain, The hiss and crackle of the flames, the charred ruins, the ashes of the city, The elegy and desolation of human beings. ) Now my heart is full of ancient and medieval songs, I see and hear old vertical Luthiers play at Welsh festivals, I hear the troubadours singing their love songs, I hear mediæval singers, itinerant musicians and troubadours.

Now is the sound of the organ, which trembles, And below, like the hidden foothold of the earth, Carrying beauty, grace, and power in all its forms, in every color we know, Make the green leaves of the grass and the song of the birds, the children at play, the clouds in the sky, There is something to lean on when you jump, something to lean on when you rise,) That mighty bass stood there vibrating never-ending, bathes, sustains, dissolves all the rest, gestator of all the rest, And with it the multitude of musical instruments, The player who is playing, all the musicians in the world,

Solemn hymns and reverent Masses, All passionate heart-songs, all mournful odes, Countless beautiful singers of all ages, and the harmony of the earth itself that dissolves and freezes them, The sound of the wind and rain, the woods, and the mighty sea, Another well-structured orchestra, a combination of years and regions, ten times the spirit of innovation. Like the distant past that the ancient poets said, that paradise, Lost from there, long straying, but now the wandering is over, After the trip, the people who went out returned home, Human beings and art merge with nature again.

Sing together!For earth and heaven; (The almighty guide is now signaling, with his baton.) All the husbands in the world are majestically turning left and singing and all the wives are echoing. violin strings, (I think, O Xianyin, you speak of this heart that cannot speak of itself, This heart that cannot speak of itself but ponders and longs. ) 3 Oh, from a little child, You know, soul, how all sounds are music to me, The voice of my mother singing lullabies and hymns, (That voice, that soft voice, the lovely voice in memory, The last of all miracles, the voice of my dearest mother and sister ;)

The rain, the growing corn, the breeze among the long-leaved corn, The rhythmic waves lapping on the sand, The chirping of the bird, the screech of the hawk, The cry of the wild ducks flying low at night, migrating south or north, ① The choir in ancient Greek drama dances first from right to left and then from left to right. A hymn in a country church or a camp meeting in a thick wood, The fiddler in the tavern, the unaccompanied chorus, the long gondolier song. The lowing cow, the bleating sheep, the rooster crowing. All the songs of all the nations of the day come and play around me,

German tunes of friendship, wine, and love, Irish folk songs, jolly jigs and dances, English ballads, French tanka, Scottish tunes, and above all the invincible Italian. Norma, burning with passion and pale, Brandishing the short sword in her hand, she walked proudly across the stage. I saw a strange gleam in the eyes of the unfortunate mad Lucia. Her hair fell loose and unkempt over her back.I saw Ernani at the bride's walk in the garden, In the scent of night roses, radiant, with his new wife, Hear the call of hell now, the death oath of the trumpet. Facing the crossed swords, white hair exposed to reflect the sky,

This is the clear and moving bass and alto singer in the world, Trombone duet, forever free! From the shade of the Spanish chestnut tree, From beyond the walls of the old and heavy nunnery, there is a sobbing song, The song of broken love, the torch of youth and life extinguished in despair, The song of the dying swan, Fernando's heart was about to break. Sings Amina, finally saved and awakened from her sorrow Her joyous passions are as fertile as the stars, as joyous as the dawn. (The fertile woman comes, The radiant star, Venus contralto, mother in full bloom, most revered Sister of the high gods, I hear, Alboni herself. )

4 I heard the carols, symphonies, operas, ① The heroine in the Italian opera "Norma", the opera composer is Vin Bellini (1801--1835). ② Actress in Donizetti's opera "Lucia di Lamamore". ① The leading actor in the Italian opera "Irnani". ② The leading actor in Donizetti's opera "The Favorite". ① An Italian opera singer who performed in New York and was the most admired female singer in Whitman's life. I heard in William Tell the music of a nation awakened and angry, I heard Meyerbel's "The French Puritans," or "Robert the Devil,"

Mozart's Don Juan, or Gounod's Faust. I heard the dance music of all the nations, A waltz that dazzles and fills me with ecstasy, some kind of beautiful beat. A bolero dance with tinkling guitars and clattering castanets. I see old and new religious dances, I hear the vibration of the Hebrew lyre, I saw the crusaders marching with the cross on their shoulders, accompanied by the mighty clang of the cymbals clang, I heard the monotonous chanting of the dervish as he whirled forever towards Mecca, mixed with frenzy shouting, I saw the ecstasy of Persians and Arabs dancing religious dances, Also, in Eleusis, the home of Ceres, I saw modern Greeks dancing jump, I saw them clasping their hands and bending over, I heard their feet shuffling rhythmically. I also saw the wild and ancient priestly dance, performers ramming each other, I saw Roman youths throwing their weapons at each other to the shriek of their six-hole clarinets. device, Knelt down facing each other, then stood up again. I heard the cry of the hour-caller from the Islamic mosque, I saw no ceremony nor sermon, speech or debate among the worshipers there. Only quiet, strange, pious, uplifted glowing heads, ecstatic face. I heard the multi-stringed harps of the Egyptians, The original song of the Nile boatman, The sacred hymn of the Chinese royal family, to the noble voice of the emperor, (beating wood fish and stone chimes,) or a Hindu temple dance troupe, To the hum of Indian flutes and fidgety lyres. 5 ② Italian opera, the best work of the composer Rossini (1792-1868). ③ Meyerbel (1791-1894) was a German opera composer. ④ Gounod was a French composer (1818-1893). ⑤ A Spanish dance. ① The ancient Roman god of grain. Now Asia and Africa have left me, and Europa has seized me again, and made me elated, With organ and orchestra, I seem to listen from a vast confluence of sounds, Luther's mighty hymn "God is as Strong as a Castle," Rossini's liturgical hymn depicting the Virgin at the foot of the cross, Or floating in some tall dark church with stained windows, That impassioned singing of "The Lamb of God" or "Glory to the Most High." Composers!Outstanding artists! And you, sweet singers of ancient nations, soprano, tenor, bass, A new singer sings joyously to you in the west, He respectfully offers his love to you. (Soul, all this leads to you, All sensations, appearances and objects, lead to you, But at the moment I feel that, above all else, the voice is reaching you. ) I heard the annual singing of the children in St. Paul's, Or, under the high roof of some grand hall, Beethoven, Handel, or Hayden ②The symphonies and sacred music, "Creation" in the sacred sea waves bathes my soul. Let me embrace all the voices, (I groan hard,) Fill me with all the sounds in the universe, Give me their and nature's throbbing, let the storms, lakes and seas, Heavenly winds, operas and chants, marches and dances, Speak and pour, for I will suck them all up! 6 Then I wake up slowly, Hesitating, exploring for a while the music of my dreams, Probe into all those memories, that howling storm, and all songs for soprano and tenor, And those ecstatic, religious oriental dance music, and all kinds of wonderful music instruments, organ harmonies, And all plain mourning of love, misery, and death, From my bedroom bed I say to my silent and curious soul, And voila, since I've found that clue I've been looking for. ① Namely Martin Luther (1483-1546). ① Handel (1665-1759), British opera composer. ② Hayden (1732-1809), Austrian composer. ③ A Mass by Hayden. Let's go out in the daytime, refreshed, Pleasantly clean up life and wander around in the real world, From now on be nourished by our divine dreams. And, I also said, Perhaps you, O soul, hear not the sound of the wind, Nor the dream of the furious storm, or the screech or flapping wings of the sea eagle, Nor the song of sunny Italy, Nor the majestic organ of Germany, Or the confluence of voices, or the cascading harmonies, Nor the chants of husbands and wives when the chorus turns left, or the march of soldiers incoming voice, Nor the fife, nor the harp, nor the call of the barracks horn, but a poem in a new rhyme that suits you, Connecting the road from life to death, floating faintly in the night sky without a trace Psalms, Psalms that let us march and compose in broad daylight. 1 singing of my time, Singing of today's great achievements, sings of the engineer's strong and light products, Our modern wonders, (The clumsy seven wonders of antiquity have been overcome,) In the Old World East there is the Suez Canal, The New World is seized by its magnificent railroads, The interior of the ocean has been channeled by eloquent and elegant cables, But he who speaks first, who speaks forever, who cries with you, O soul, It's the past!It's the past!It's the past! The past—a dark and unfathomable review! That fertile abyss—those sleepers and shadows! The past—the infinite vastness of the past! Because, if it were not a product of the past, where would the present come from? (like a projectile formed and propelled and passing a certain limit and still continuing, The present is also entirely formed and carried forward by the past. )2 O soul, sail to India! For the myths of Asia, those primitive fables, put forward confirmation. Not only you, the proud truth of the world, Not just you, the facts of modern science, And ancient myths and fables, Asian and African fables, The spiritual brilliance that shines far away, the unrestrained dreams, The legends and classics that dive deep, The bold visions of the poets, the older religions, O you monasteries more beautiful than lilies bathed in the morning sun! O you who rise above the known and escape the control of the known Days gone parable! You towering towers with spires, red as roses and glittering with gold, Towers of immortal fables shaped by mortal dreams, I welcome you exactly as I welcome everything else! I also sing about you with joy. Sailing to India! Why, soul, did you not see God's purpose from the beginning? The earth is to be connected by a fine crisscross web, Races and neighbors will marry each other and multiply in marriage, and oceans will be crossed, so that Far becomes near, Different countries are to be welded together. I sing of a new form of worship, You captains, navigators, explorers, all of you, You engineers, you architects, mechanics, you all, You, not only for trade or shipping, And in God's name, for you, soul. 3 Sail to India! Look, soul, there are two scenes before you, In one I saw the Suez Canal dug, I saw a train of ships, led by the Queen Eugenie, From the deck I see strange landscapes, the pure sky, the flat sands in the distance, I pass swiftly the picturesque crowd, the assembled workers, The figure of those giant dredgers. In a different scene (but it's yours, it's yours too, soul,) I see, across my own continent, conquering every obstacle, the Pacific Railroad, I saw the continuous train of vehicles carrying goods and passengers meandering along the Platte River snaking forward, I hear the locomotive roaring and running, the whistle screaming, I hear echoes trembling through the most magnificent landscapes in the world, As I crossed the Laramie plain, I noticed all sorts of strangely shaped rocks, little hills Oka, I saw lush delphiniums and wild onions, and barren and pale desert of sage, I glimpse mountains far away or suddenly towering before me, I see the Wind and the Vasa mountains, I saw Stele Mountain and Eagle's Nest, I passed Cape, I ascended Nevada, I gaze upon majestic Elk Mountain, and round its foot, I see the Humboldt mountains, I pass through valleys, I cross rivers, I see the clear waters of Lake Tahoe, I see the majestic pine forests, Or across great deserts and alkaline plains, I see sea waves and meadows' enchanted mirages scene, After noticing that through all this, by two very thin rails, After running three or four thousand miles over land, Connecting the East Sea and the West Sea, The road between Europe and Asia. (Alas, your Genoese dream, your dream! Centuries after you lay in your grave, the coast you found was confirmed. ) ① Columbus who discovered the New World was a Genoese. 4 Sailing to India! The struggles of many captains, the tales of many dead sailors, They come quietly. Unfolding over my state of mind, Like the floating clouds and rosy clouds in the unreachable sky. Along the whole history, down the slope, Like a running brook that sometimes sinks and sometimes rises. A train of thoughts, a manifold procession - behold, souls, they come to you, rising before your eyes, Again those plans, those voyages and expeditions; Vasco da Gama sails again, Again those gained knowledge, navigator's compass, Newly discovered land and born country, your newborn America. Man's long probationary period is complete for grand purpose, You, the wrapping of the world is done. 5 O great ring, swimming in space, Covered everywhere with visible power and beauty, Daylight and day alternate with the darkness of that rich spiritual world, Above is the indescribable high-altitude procession of sun, moon, and countless stars, Below is a variety of grass, animals, hills, trees, lakes, For an incomprehensible purpose, the intention of some hidden prophet, Now for the first time my mind seems to be beginning to size you up. From the gardens of Asia came down radiantly, Adam and Eve appeared, followed by their countless descendants, Roaming, longing, curious, with restless quest, with frustration Mournful, formless, feverish inquiries, with ever-unpleasant moods, With that sad and incessant chant, O discontented soul, for what what?Mocking life, what do you seek? Ah, who can calm these feverish children? Who will justify these never-ending quests? Who can tell the mysteries of this vast land? Who will combine it with us?What is this nature so strange and lonely? What is the meaning of this earth to our feelings? (Love nothing, for me Our mood is indifferent to the earth, Cold earth, where graves gather. ) but the soul, be sure to let the first Intentions are preserved, and must be realized, Perhaps the moment has come. After all seas have been crossed, (as if they had been crossed,) After those great captains and engineers had done their work, Among those brilliant inventors, scientists, chemists, geologists, ethnologists after, In the end there must be a poet worthy of his title, God's faithful Son will surely come to us with his own song. At that time, not only you, navigators, scientists, and inventors, your actions will be The proof is perfectly fair. The hearts of all these thirsty children shall be comforted, All kindness will be fully rewarded, the secret will be revealed, All these separations and gaps will be dealt with, buckled and connected, The whole earth, this cold, heartless, voiceless earth, shall be acknowledged and confirmed, The Holy Trinity shall be gloriously consummated and concluded by God's faithful Son - the Psalmist fit very tightly, (He would indeed cross the straits and conquer the mountains, He will round the Cape of Good Hope to some purpose,) nature and man will no longer be separated analysis and dispersion, The faithful Son of God will absolutely fuse them together. 6 The year yo, the year I sing at its open door! One year yo, hope finished year! A year, yo, a year in which the continents, regions and seas marry! (It is not only the Doge of the Venetian Republic who is marrying the Princess of Adria these days,) I see, O year, the land and water earth in you is gaining and giving cut, Europa is connected to Asia and Africa, and they are connected to the New World, Those lands and terrains dance before you, with a festive garland, As beautiful as the bride and groom holding each other's arms. Sailing to India! A cool wind blows from far from the Caucasus, calming the cradle of humanity, Euphrates rushes forward, and history shines brightly again. See, soul, the memories keep pouring out, The ancient, most populous, and richest lands on earth, The Indus and the Ganges and their many tributaries, (I walk today in my America On the shore, seeing and reliving everything,) The story of Alexander's sudden death on his warlike march, China on one side, Arabia and Persia on the other, To the south is the sea and the Bay of Bengal, The endless variety of literature, grand epic, religion, social class, The ancient mystical Brahmins, who can be traced back far, the gentle and young Buddhas, The central and southern empires, with all their appurtenances, occupants, Timur's conquests, Oren-Caibi's reign, Merchant, ruler, explorer, Muslim, Venetian, Byzantine, Arabian people, portuguese, The first travelers still famous, Marco Polo, Batota the Moor, Questions to be answered, maps to be hidden, gaps to be filled, The footsteps of human beings, the hands that never rest, And, O soul, you cannot tolerate any provocative yourself! Those medieval seafarers rose before my eyes, The world of 1492, with its awakened enterprise, Something that swells up in human nature like the vitality of the spring land, Evening beauty of decaying chivalry. And you, dark shadow, who are you? Colossal, dreamlike, you're a dreamer yourself, With mighty limbs and godly glowing eyes, Every glance of yours spreads a world of gold around, Give it a magnificent halo. When the principal actor came on stage, In some great scene, I see the admiral himself dominating others, (historical example of bravery, action, and faith,) Saw him set sail from Palos with his little fleet, Behold his voyage, his return, his lofty fame, His misfortune, slandered, prisoner, dragging in chains, Seeing his frustration, poverty, and death. (I happened to stand there curiously, watching the hard work of the heroes, Will there be a long delay?Is that slander, poverty and death painful? Will the seeds be buried in the ground for centuries and neglected? Behold, it responds to God in time, rises at night, sprouts, blossoms, Spread value and beauty all over the world. ) 7 O soul, is true voyage to primordial thought, Not only to land and sea, but to your own freshness, The early ripening of your seedlings and flowers, The country that germinates towards classics. ① A monarch of India who usurped the throne from his father during the Islamic period; English writer Dryden's tragedy of the same name (1676) is the title of this material. Soul, unbound, I with you and you with me, Start your world travels, for man it is his spiritual return, Back to the early days of reason, Back, back to naive intuition, to the birthplace of wisdom, Once again with the wonderful universe. 8 Ah, we can wait no longer, We set sail too, soul, We also happily sailed into the vast sea, Sail fearlessly to strange lands on waves of ecstasy, In the blowing wind (O soul, you hold me close, I hold you close,) Free to chant and sing our praises to God, Singing the song of our happy adventure. With laughter and frequent kisses, (Let others beg forgiveness, let others be guilty, Weeping in remorse, shame,) O soul, you make me happy, I make you happy. O soul, we believe in God more than any priest, But we dare not play games with the mysteries of God. O soul, you make me happy, I make you happy, Whether sailing these seas or high mountains, or waking up at night, Thoughts, silent thoughts of time, space, and death, like running water, really carried me like through boundless realms, I breathe their air, hear their ripples, let them bathe me, Bath in your heart, God, I rise to you, My soul and I enter your domain layer by layer. amazing you, unknown, quality and breath, The light of light, overflowing the universe, being their center, You, stronger center of the true, the good, the loving, Thou, moral and spiritual fountain--stream of love--thy pool of water, (O my brooding soul--hungry unsatisfied--was not waiting Do you want to stay? Isn't that perfect companion waiting for us there somewhere? ) you - star The stars, the sun, the pulse of the solar system; you, their driving force, They revolve, moving in an orderly, safe and harmonious way, Slanting through the vast and invisible space, how should I think, how should I breathe (even if it is only for a moment) times), how should I say, if only by myself, Can't I go to those higher universes? When I think of God, I feel small and helpless, Thinking of nature and its wonders, of time and space and death, I have to turn to you, O soul, you practical me, And lo and behold, you gently rule the planet, You match time and smile contentedly at death, And it fills and grows the boundless boundary of space. O soul, you are greater than the stars and the sun, jumping to travel; What love can expand wider than yours and mine? What ambition, what desire, is greater than yours and mine, soul? What other designs of chastity, perfection, and power?What ideal dream? What is the spirit of willing to give everything for others? Sacrifice everything for others? Think ahead, O soul, when the time comes, All seas crossed, capes crossed, voyage's over you're surrounded, yes Pay and fight against God, and finally obey, when the purpose is achieved, Such a brother, full of friendship and love, found, In his arms, the younger brother was completely melted by the caress. 9 Sail farther than India! Are your wings really plump enough to fly this far? Soul, do you really want to make such a voyage? You're going to play on that shore? You want to probe the background of Sanskrit and Vedas? First, then, lift that prohibition that binds your will. To you sail, to your shores, to your old and fierce mysteries! Sailing to you, to your dominance, to your killing questions! You, strewn with the remains of wrecked ships that never arrived while alive you are there. Sail farther than India! O mystery of earth and sky! O mystery of the waves of your seas!O the mystery of winding brooks and rivers! O mysteries of your woodlands and fields! You, mysteries of the towering mountains of my land! Mysteries of your steppes!O mysteries of ye pale rocks! Zhaoxia!clouds!Rain and snow! Sailing to you, day and night! O sun and moon and all you stars!Sirius and Jupiter! Sailing to you! Sailing, sailing now!The blood is burning in my veins! go, soul!Hurry up and weigh anchor! Cut the rope--draw it--shake every sail!Are we like trees Isn't it long enough to stand here as it grows on the ground? Isn't it long enough that we lie here eating and drinking like animals? Haven't we got enough of bewildering ourselves with books? sailing out—specially sailing to deep water, Don't worry, O soul, go forth, I'm with you, you're with me. For our destination is where no voyager dared go, And we are willing to risk, ship and all, with our own O my brave soul!Sail farther and farther! O daring joy, but safety!Are they not the surface of God's sea? Ah, sail, sail farther, farther, farther! A defeated and wretched old man, Abandoned on this wild shore, far from home, Imprisoned by sea and treacherous crags, for twelve months, Pained and stiff from toil, sick and nearly dead, To dissipate this melancholy heart, I wander around the edge of the island. My grief is too heavy! Maybe I can't make it through the night; God, I can't rest, I can't eat, I can't drink, I can't sleep, Until I offer myself and my prayers to you once more, Once again I breathe and bathe in your arms and talk to you, Once again I confide myself in you. You know all my history, my life, My life of long toil is not mere reverence, You are familiar with the rituals of prayer and benediction of my youth, You are familiar with the serious and fanciful musings of my adulthood, You know how I gave my future to you before I started, you know In my old age I renewed those vows and kept them, You know I never lost my faith and fascination with you, In chains, in prison, insulted, but not complaining, Accept all that comes from you, they come to me in due time. All my attempts are filled with you, My plans and plans are begun and carried out according to your will, Sail the seas and wade the land for you; The intent, purpose, and ambition are mine, but success or failure is yours to decide. what!I believe they do come from you, That impulse, that passion, that indomitable will, That powerful, felt inner control stronger than words, Those messages from above that whisper to me even in dreams, All of these things keep me going. Thanks to me and all this, the work so far has been accomplished, By me those older lands that were full and suffocated were loosened and freed, Because of me, the two hemispheres become a sphere, and the unknown becomes the known. Turns out I don't know, it's all up to you, Big or small, I don't know—perhaps some wide field, some country, Perhaps the brutish infinity of the lower classes of man I know, Transplanted there you will grow up and acquire knowledge worthy of you, Maybe the sword I know will really turn into a plow there, Maybe the dead cross I know, Europa's dead cross frame, where it will germinate, flower, and bear fruit. Yet another endeavour, my altar on this deserted sand; O God, you set my life on fire, With your steady, ineffable, gifted light, That rare and indescribable light that ignites the light itself, The light source that is far beyond what ink and words can describe, For these, God, let me last, I kneel here, I am old, poor, and paralyzed, and I offer you my heartfelt gratitude. My end is near, Dark clouds have gathered over my head, Frustrated voyages, disputed routes, it's over, I hand over my fleet to you. My hands and limbs are paralyzed, My brain is tortured almost to a coma, Let this old ship's bones fall apart, but I don't want to leave, I want to hold you tight, God Ah, though the waves keep crashing, At least I still know you, know you. Am I speaking of the mind of a prophet?Or am I talking gibberish? What things do I know about life, and what about myself? I don't even understand my past or present work, The conjectures about it that were set before me were forever changing. And speculations about the new better world and its birth, Playing tricks on and bewildering my mind. And these things that I suddenly saw, what do they mean? As if a divine hand unsealed my eyes, and a miracle occurred, Some gigantic figure of the knees smiles through the sky and atmosphere, countless ships in the Sail on the vast sea, I hear hymns in some new language greeting me.