Poems Tributes | T.S. Eliot (The Waste Land)

The lights have died upon the sky. In April
a flare of pollen sneezes its way from maple
trees. The cruelest time – harmonious bloom.
A family season – prolific starts – La Famiglia!
Everything breeds, nests, spurs a baby boom.
New neighbors? Your names were West Nile's?
Did you emerge last year – two of you — now
you're bearing youth? Your brood is fruitful!
Is it a fluke —
you are multiplying while the rest of us — dying?

"New century," cries novo-Russian, "Novae era!
Why nowhere fresh blood to spare?
Solely food stamps, coupons, bony bonuses;
it isn't that safe asking help from donors
who appear neither dead nor alive."

Thunder roars with Parisian aplomb
under the roof the raindrops are delightful.
No such importance in the toothless comb,
must I invest in the new brush — I ponder,
or collect more on the tomb?

The clergyman leaves the cathedral church,
having lunch between mosques and bethels;
He christens briskly the West Nile's flock,
bringing a bunch of them to bar mitzvah –
Someone must carry on the torch!

Newcomers, there are enough coupons!
Newcomers, cope with coppers!
Say NO to various rubbish banknotes,
No need for rubles, dollars and yen,
give up your bloody pounds,
Get grants and city loans!

Alone? Oh dear,
place your ad! Afraid?
I know a virtue matchmaker
next gate, behind that lofty fence.
No-no! No charge, just show your face,
Its time to pitch your anchor.

Its time for all
its time to pitch, then preach to reach your echo.
Old-timers, shake your anchors!
Encore, encore, encore . . .
I found a walker at my door
and wondered — "what's it for?"

Oh! Charming Johnny Walker – my old chum,
Chairman of my soul!
You shone in red and black and gold,
Why your blue coat was labeled old — not vintage —
Bold? Remember healthier times?
We danced and danced for days and months
Alliance gaining ounce by ounce,
In nuisance reaching resonance in colors —
Black and red and white;
We spun together side by side,
We held each other fiercely tight,
You taught me joyance of a fight
To loose my limbs and bounce at once.
Oh Johnny, Johnny! What's left of us?
Screw our walkers! Shall we — dance?

One-two-three, one-two-three,
Turn left, turn right,
Breath in, out,
Left and right. Deeper!
One two-three, one-two-three,
Don't you feel free?
Lost rhythm of your pulse? What?
Music is loud?

Someone, shut the music
Please, shut . . . shut . . . shut . . .
Cardiac shock? Hold on! Hold on!
Take my hand, my love,
I won't let you die.
Dial 9-1-1, someone, please dial, please. . . d-i-a-l . . .
Oh not again, these beggar West Niles!
Go away! Go away!

The lights have died upon the sky. In April
all gone?