IN MIDNIGHT SLEEP
1
In midnight sleep, of many a face of anguish,
Of the look at first of the mortally wounded—of that indescribable look;
Of the dead on their backs, with arms extended wide,
I dream, I dream, I dream.
2
Of scenes of nature, fields and mountains;
Of skies, so beauteous after a storm—and at night the moon so unearthly bright,
Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the trenches and gather the heaps,
I dream, I dream, I dream.
3
Long, long have they pass’d—faces and trenches and fields;
Where through the carnage I moved with a callous composure—or away from the fallen,
Onward I sped at the time—But now of their forms at night,
I dream, I dream, I dream.
[1865]
Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
Uit: Leaves of Grass
(definitieve versie van 1891/92)
*NB* — Op zondagavond 11 maart, tussen 22.15 uur en 00:00 uur kunt u dit gedicht horen in het BBC Radio 3-programma Words and Music, met als thema Transfigured Night. Zie daartoe ook onze bijdrage, heden, volgend op de nacht-gedichten: Arnold Schönbergs Verklärte Nacht als klein en als groot sextet.