Walt Whitman, USA (1819-1892). Forfatter og journalist.
 
Has inspired many poets, writers, musicians and spiritual teachers with his celebrating and powerful writings. Through his poems he often translates what he understands from nature as messages – he becomes the bard (= regn-skjalden) of the rain, the birds, the running rivers, the rocks and sands. He praises eternal (evig) life and the presence of God in all things.
 
Although his writing consists of thousands of pages his main message is simple and direct as in the following lines that passes on in the famous “Leaves of grass”.
 
“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise (foragte) riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote (ofre) your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence (overbærenhed) toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss (afvis) whatever insults (fornærmer/krænker) your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in the words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes (øjenvipper) and in every motion and point of your body”.
Walt Whitman
Starting from Paumanok.
 
 
As I have walk´d in Alabama my morning walk,
I have seen where the she-bird the mocking-bird (spottedrossel) sat on her
 nest in the briers (tornbusken) hatching her brood (I færd med at ruge sine unger ud).
 
I have seen the he-bird also,
I have paus`d to hear him near at hand inflating (oppuste) his throat (strube) and
 joyfully singing.
 
And while I paus`d it came to me that what he really sang
 for was not there only,
Nor for his mate nor himself only, nor all sent back by the
 echoes,
 
But subtle (hårfin), clandestine (smug), away beyond (hinsides),
A charge transmitted and gift occult (skjult gave) for those being born.
 
Democrazy! Near at hand to you a throat is now inflating
    itself and joyfully singing.
 
Ma femme! for the brood (ungerne) beyond us and of us,
For those who belong here and those to come,
I exultant to be ready for them will now shake out carols
 stronger and laughtier than have ever yet been heard
 upon earth.
 
I will make the songs of passion to give them their way,
And your songs outlaw´d offenders, for I scan you with
   kindred eyes (slægtskabets øjne), and carry you with me the same as any.
 
I will make the true poem of riches,
To earn for the body and the mind whatever adheres and
   goes forward and is not dropt by death;
 
I will effuse egotism and show it underlying all, and I will
   be the bard of personality. (Bard = skjald)
 
And I will show of male and female that either is but the
 equal of the other,
 
And sexual organs and acts! Do you concentrate in me, for I
 am determin´d to tell you with courageous (modig) clear voice
 to prove you illustrious, (udmærkethed, berømthed osv.)
 
 
And I will show that there is no imperfection (ufuldkommenhed) in the present,
   And can be none in the future,
 
And I will show that whatever happens to anybody it may
   be turned to beautiful results,
 
And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful
 than death,
 
And I will thread a thread through my poems that time and
 events are compact, (kortfattede)
 
And I will all the things of the universe are perfect miracles,
 each as profound  (grundigt) as any.
 
I will not make poems with reference to parts,
But I will make poems, songs, thoughts, with reference to
 emsemble, (helheden)
And I will not sing with reference to a day, but with
 reference to all days,
 
And I will not make a poem nor the least part of a poem
 but has reference to the soul,
 
Because having look`d  at the objects of the universe, I find
 there is no one nor any particle of one but has reference
 to the soul.
 
Was somebody asking to see the soul?
See, your own shape and countenance (udtryk), persons, substances,

 beasts, the trees, the running rivers, the rocks and sand.

Walt Whitman, USA (1819-1892).
 
Has inspired many poets, writers, musicians and spiritual teachers with his celebrating and powerful writings. Through his poems he often translates what he understands from nature as messages – he becomes the bard (= regn-skjalden) of the rain, the birds, the running rivers, the rocks and sands. He praises eternal (evig) life and the presence of God in all things.
 
Although his writing consists of thousands of pages his main message is simple and direct as in the following lines that passes on in the famous “Leaves of grass”.
 
“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise (foragte) riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote (ofre) your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence (overbærenhed) toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss (afvis) whatever insults (fornærmer/krænker) your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in the words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes (øjenvipper) and in every motion and point of your body”.
Walt Whtiman
 
Song of Myself
…Have you practis´d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess (beherske) the origin of all poems.
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres (spøgelserne) in books.
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self…..I CELEBATE myself and sing myself.
 
Jeg tror, at et græsstrå er intet mindre end stjernernes
   svendestykke,
Og at bladlusen er ligeså fuldendt, og sandskornet, og gærde-
   smuttens æg,
og at løvfrøen er et mesterstykke af de fineste,
og at en brombærranke ville forskønne selv himlens høje
   haller,
Og at koen, der tygger drøv med sænket hoved, er dejligere
   end nogen statue,
og at en mus er mirakel nok til at omvende sekstillioner af
   tvivlere. –
I mig findes der gnejs, kul, langstænglet mos, frugter, korn
   og spiselige rødder,
forgæves at I søger at lægge årtusinder imellem os,
jeg er kommet videre frem, end alle de som skabte mig,
men kan når som helst vende tilbage, hvis jeg vil.
Forgæves at flygte for mig eller at skjule sig.
Forgæves at Jordens glødende indvolde søger at holde mig
   fra sig med sviende hede.
forgæves at mastodonten gemmer sig bag sine for længst hen-
   smuldrede knogler,
forgæves at havets sælsomme uhyrer skjuler sig i dybets
   kløfter og huler,
forgæves at musvågen flyver helt ind i himlen,
forgæves at slangen søger at smutte bort i jordens revner og
   sprækker,
forgæves at elsdyret gemmer sig i skovens inderste dyb,
   eller at aliken med de skarpe vinger sejler nordpå til
Labrador.
Jeg følger efter, jeg stiger op til dens rede på den utilgænge-
   lige tinde.
Jeg tror, jeg kunne vandre ud og leve med dyrene, de er så
   glade og nøjsomme,
Jeg står og betragter dem, længe, længe, længe.
de stønner ikke og klager over deres kår,
de ligger ikke vågne i mørket og græder over deres synder,
de får mig ikke til at væmmes ved at kives om deres pligter
   mod Gud.
Ingen er utilfreds, ingen er besat af raseriet efter at skaffe
   sig ejendom,
Ingen knæler for nogen anden, heller ikke for nogen af deres
   slægt, som døde for tusinder af år tilbage,
Ingen har for meget, ingen for lidt – hele jorden over.
Se, de ligner mig, jeg tager dem i favn,
De bringer mig noget af migselv.
Hvor har de fået det fra?
 
Walt Whitman


 
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