[BNP/E3, 49A1 – 53-55]
‘Tis evening… no, tis night. Evening is past
Already, though the night is yet not full
And the whole city formidably traced
Against the sky is calm and beautiful.
Thousands[1] of windows stare me in the eyes
Thousands[2] of windows lighted have a stare
So apathetic that my spirit cries
So many things of soul should be all bare
Lift up thy voice, but it be a caress[3]
But my heart to dumbness eloquent
My spirit is {…} damn’d
In all the mystery of what this may teach
Lift up thy voice, make me drunk with[4] your sad
Oh † sea on the lone beach.
Lift up thy voice that bears forgetfulness
Thy wonderous voice that many a heart hath rent
[53v]
II
Thou also, sea, full may a fair dost know
Enormous giant slumbering in pain,
___
Lull me away from this {…} oh sea
Fill me with the impulse of a lone dream
To go away from here
Where I know not, away,
Away, away this city to forget
To leave for ever things I love and know
Call me away of sea, make me to fret
Drive me away with the keen lash of owe!
_______
I have the wish to go to emigrate
To lands of smiling, and to desert lands;
I long to see {…}
And waste my sight on bare and lonely sands.
_______
Yet I shall wish to emigrate from there
The very dream that chasses me tries already
And my exhausted mind pursues {…} rare
Visions of things and lands dim and unsteady
[54r]
3.
Drive me away, away; further away
I wish to visit oh impossible
The middle ages, I desire the sway
Of laws who disposed a real bell.[5]
_______
All is so little, everything so sad!
Everything so far from our desire
Why are there souls that never can keep glad
Where must there in me be a living fire?
Cursing us, (and burning) to no end
___
Take me away, be it far from the present
Far from this place, far from this moment’s pain
Take me away, Cool dells and shadows pleasant
Await me surely
[54v]
4.
There is something so strange in all we see
Something so strange it seems we have forget
Things that are real, that all things that be
(In them deep souls are comprehended not).
_______
Houses and castles, towers and minarets
Pass, made of longings, in my wish’s dream
And close and sad and solitary streets
Waves that have boats, upon a silent stream
_______
A wondrous city mystic and alone
Somewhere forgot is it in space and in time?…
Upon a lonely beach the sea makes moan
No memory knows the placing of that clime.
And a sail passes – is it down a river
Far in a sea, or is it on a lake
Caverns and rocks ignored and desolate, lone
Rocks, winding caverns, blackness within them;
Things other than the present, than the known
Strange capes, deep seas, turrets that aught can stem.
_______
I know not well thy visions real shiver
And in a might succession {…} shake
Some things remain; others {…}
All these I rising dream, staring by thought
To go away from here, from what I am
From what send me
And when monotony doth damn[6]
[55r]
5
The city lights, the city’s self immense
Full of its possibility of woe
Convulse me, {…} with a sense.
Inexpressible, of {…} is not so[7]
It lives in if it knew not that it lived
And human things it bears that never think
Mine eyes which see not, sharp
Perceive the {…} to {…} drink
Harems and palaces
_______
Take me away for grief as well as joy
The very thought of pleasure one doth cloy
And I am tired already of what I dream.
_______
July 1907.
My heart, full of the wonder of the moon
That doth transmute the earth to a new thing
Slowly[8] doth sicken, dolorously doth swoon
Like an {…}-stricken[9] hid upon the wing.
[55v]
II.
127 “L’inconscient, lui aussi, est soumis à la maladie; il peut être stupide, obtus et aliéné comme la conscience, alors il cesse complétement d’être son.” (to be certain, N. has said, is the quality of health instinct).
130 zoophilism, love of animals in Barrès, characteristics of degenerates. Love of madness and † people.
144 A most strange disease in Russia, †, a desire of imitation. Imitation. How found. In fatigue (rising to the weakness of inhibitory appareils of the brain) inhibitory imitation appearance, as the left hand awaits for the right – waits etc.
147 Art a double end:
Subject the satisfaction of an organic necessity: that of getting rid of an emotion; object that of acting upon our brother men, ultimately the desire for fame (of which the 1st. étage is the desire of man, who is a social being to make is brother partake of his emotions). Since art is thus, to it also are applied the principles after which all human action is judge: those of morality and of legality.
148 We ask, before each organic tendency, if it is come up a legitimate necessity or force an aberration. etc
[1] Thousands /Hundreds\
[2] Thousands /Hundreds\
[3] a caress /a caress\
[4] make me drunk with /oh sleep me in\
[5] real bell. /(church-bell).\
[6] doth damn /is nought\
[7] of {…} is not so /that it is, should not be so\
[8] Slowly /Subtly\
[9] {…}-stricken /ill-stricken/darted\\
