♕ |[62]| Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn

[had_not_lived]

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Ever since I read that I can't help thinking of it in April. I don't think I agree. Maybe April's cruel here-- any month

Comments

[primrosella]

I think your poet has it just the opposite, really. I'm rather of the opinion that seeing the flowers come up through the ice and snow is a lovely thing, not a cruel one.

[had_not_lived]

That's how I feel about it, too-- I don't think I like being covered in forgetful snow much at all.

[primrosella]

I doubt anyone would. How much further does the poem go on?

[had_not_lived]

It's very long-- it's in five parts-- but it jumps around, it's not all about spring.

[primrosella]

Oh, I see. What are the other parts about?

[had_not_lived]

To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I understand it all. It's called The Waste Land, it's very long. I could lend it to you if you'd like.

[primrosella]

I'd like that very much! You're right, though, it does sound rather dreary, just from the title. But even so, I'd like to give it a try, especially since it's a poem you like yourself.

[had_not_lived]

I do think I like it, even if I don't agree with the poet.

[primrosella]

And I'll be certain to let you know if I agree with the rest of it once I read it, shall I?

[had_not_lived]

We'll have to see if we can puzzle the rest of it out.