La extensión de mi cuerpo (Ilustrado/Bilingüe) by Walt Whitman Read Free Book Online Page B

and then drew back and was never seen again,
    Nor the old man who has lived without purpose, and feels it with bitterness worse than gall,
    Nor him in the poor house tubercled by rum and the bad disorder,
    Nor the numberless slaughter’d and wreck’d, nor the brutish koboo call’d the ordure of humanity,
    Nor the sacs merely floating with open mouths for food to slip in,
    Nor any thing in the earth, or down in the oldest graves of the earth,
    Nor any thing in the myriads of spheres, nor the myriads of myriads that inhabit them,
    Nor the present, nor the least wisp that is known.

44
    I t is time to explain myself — let us stand up.
    What is known I strip away,
    I launch all men and women forward with me into the Unknown.
    The clock indicates the moment — but what does eternity indicate?
    We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers,
    There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them.
    Births have brought us richness and variety,
    And other births will bring us richness and variety.
    I do not call one greater and one smaller,
    That which fills its period and place is equal to any.
    Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother, my sister?
    I am sorry for you, they are not murderous or jealous upon me,
    All has been gentle with me, I keep no account with lamentation,
    (What have I to do with lamentation?).
    I am an acme of things accomplish’d, and I an encloser of things to be.
    My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs,
    On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps,
    All below duly travel’d, and still I mount and mount.
    Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me,
    Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there,
    I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist,
    And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon.
    Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother, my sister?
    I am sorry for you, they are not murderous or jealous upon me,
    All has been gentle with me, I keep no account with lamentation,
    (What have I to do with lamentation?).
    I am an acme of things accomplish’d, and I an encloser of things to be.
    My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs,
    On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps,
    All below duly travel’d, and still I mount and mount.
    Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me,
    Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even
    there,
    I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist,
    And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon.
    Long I was hugg’d close — long and long.
    Immense have been the preparations for me,
    Faithful and friendly the arms that have help’d me.
    Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen,
    For room to me stars kept aside in their own rings,
    They sent influences to look after what was to hold me.
    Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me,
    My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay it.
    For it the nebula cohered to an orb,
    The long slow strata piled to rest it on,
    Vast vegetables gave it sustenance,
    Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and
    deposited it with care.
    All forces have been steadily employ’d to complete and delight me,
    Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul.

46
    I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured and never will be measured.
    I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!).
    My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods,
    No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair,
    I have no chair, no church, no philosophy,
    I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange,
    But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll,
    My left hand hooking you round the waist,
    My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public road.
    Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,
    You must travel it for yourself.
    It is not far, it is