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norman dello joio - a jubilant song كلمات الأغنية

o to make the most jubilant song!
full of music — full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
full of common employments — full of grain and trees

o for the voices of animals — o for the swiftness
and balance of fishes!
o for the dropping of raindrops in a song!
o for the sunshine and motion of waves in a song!

o the joy of my spirit — it is uncaged — it darts like lightning!
it is not enough to have this globe or a certain time
i will have thousands of globes and all time

o the engineer’s joys! to go with a locomotive!
to hear the hiss of steam, the merry shriek, the steam-whistle
the laughing locomotive!
to push with resistless way and speed off in the distance

o the gleesome saunter over fields and hillsides!
the leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds, the moist fresh
stillness of the woods
the exquisite smell of the earth at daybreak
and all through the forenoon

o the horseman’s and horsewoman’s joys!
the saddle, the gallop, the pressure upon the seat, the cool
gurgling by the ears and hair

o the fireman’s joys!
i hear the alarm at dead of night
i hear bells, shouts! i p-ss the crowd, i run!
the sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure

o the joy of the strong-brawn’d fighter, towering in the arena
in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his
opponent

o the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only the human
soul is capable of generating and emitting in steady and
limitless floods

o the mother’s joys!
the watching, the endurance, the precious love, the anguish
the patiently yielded life

o the of increase, growth, recuperation
the joy of soothing and pacifying, the joy of concord and harmony

o to go back to the place where i was born
to hear the birds sing once more
to ramble about the house and barn and over the fields once more
and through the orchard and along the old lanes once more

o to have been brought up on bays, lagoons, creeks, or along the
coast
to continue and be employ’d there all my life
the briny and damp smell, the shore, the salt weeds exposed at low
water
the work of fishermen, the work of the eel-fisher and clam-fisher;
i come with my clam-rake and spade, i come with my eel-spear
is the tide out? i join the group of clam-diggers on the flats
i laugh and work with them, i joke at my work like a mettlesome
young man;
in winter i take my eel-basket and eel-spear and travel out on foot
on the ice — i have a small axe to cut holes in the ice
behold me well-clothed going g-yly or returning in the afternoon
my brood of tough boys accompanying me
my brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love to be with no
one else so well as they love to be with me
by day to work with me, and by night to sleep with me

another time in warm weather out in a boat, to lift the lobster-pots
where they are sunk with heavy stones, (i know the buoys,)
o the sweetness of the fifth-month morning upon the water as i row
just before sunrise toward the buoys
i pull the wicker pots up slantingly, the dark green lobsters are
desperate with their claws as i take them out, i insert
wooden pegs in the ‘oints of their pincers

i go to all the places one after another, and then row back to the
shore
there in a huge kettle of boiling water the lobsters shall be boil’d
till their color becomes scarlet

another time mackerel-taking
voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they seem to fill the
water for miles;
another time fishing for rock-fish in chesapeake bay, i one of the
brown-faced crew;
another time trailing for blue-fish off paumanok, i stand with
braced body
my left foot is on the gunwale, my right arm throws far out the
coils of slender rope
in sight around me the quick veering and darting of fifty skiffs, my
companions

o boating on the rivers
the voyage down the st. lawrence, the superb scenery, the steamers
the ships sailing, the thousand islands, the occasional timber-raft
and the raftsmen with long-reaching sweep-oars
the little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke when they cook
supper at evening

(o something pernicious and dread!
something far away from a puny and pious life!
something unproved! something in a trance!
something escaped from the anchorage and driving free.)

o to work in mines, or forging iron
foundry casting, the foundry itself, the rude high roof, the ample
and shadow’d space
the furnace, the hot liquid pour’d out and running

o to resume the joys of the soldier!
to feel the presence of a brave commanding officer —
to feel his sympathy!
to behold his calmness-to be warm’d in the rays of his smile!
to go to battle — to hear the bugles play and the drums beat!
to hear the crash of artillery — to see the glittering
of the bayonets and musket-barrels in the sun!

to see men fall and die and not complain!
to taste the savage taste of blood — to be so devilish!
to gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy

o the whaleman’s joys! o i cruise my old cruise again!
i feel the ship’s motion under me
i feel the atlantic breezes fanning me
i hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head
there — she blows!
again i spring up the rigging to look with the rest — we descend
wild with excitement
i leap in the lower’d boat, we row toward our prey where he lies
we approach stealthy and silent, i see the mountainous m-ss
lethargic, basking
i see the harpooneer standing up, i see the weapon dart
from his vigorous arm;
o swift again far out in the ocean the wounded whale, settling
running to windward, tows me
again i see him rise to breathe, we row close again
i see a lance driven through his side, press’d deep
turn’d in the wound
again we back off, i see him settle again
the life is leaving him fast
as he rises he spouts blood, i see him swim in circles narrower and
narrower, swiftly cutting the water — i see him die
he gives one convulsive leap in the centre of thearth

knowist thou the excellent joys of youth?
joys of the dear companions and of the merry word and laughing face?
joy of the glad light-beaming day, joy of the wide-breath’d games?
joy of sweet music, joy of the lighted ball-room and the dancers?
joy of the plenteous dinner, strong carouse and drinking?

yet o my soul supreme!
knowist thou the joys of pensive thought?
joys of the free and lonesome heart, the tender, gloomy heart?
joys of the solitary walk, the spirit bow’d yet proud
the suffering and the struggle?
the agonistic throes, the ecstasies, joys of the solemn musings
day or night?
joys of the thought of death, the great spheres time and space?
prophetic joys of better, loftier love’s ideals, the divine wife
the sweet, eternal, perfect comrade?
joys all thine own undying one, joys worthy thee o soul

o while i live to be the ruler of life, not a slave
to meet life as a powerful conqueror
no fumes, no ennui, no more complaints or scornful criticisms
to these proud laws of the air, the water and the ground, proving
my interior soul impregnable
and nothing exterior shall ever take command of me

for not life’s joys alone i sing, repeating — the joy of death!
the beautiful touch of death, soothing and benumbing
a few moments, for reasons
myself discharging my excrementitious body to be burn’d, or render’d
to powder, or buried
my real body doubtless left to me for other spheres
my voided body nothing more to me, returning to the purifications
further offices, eternal uses of the earth

o to attract by more than attraction!
how it is i know not — yet behold! the something which obeys
none of the rest
it is offensive, never defensive — yet how magnetic it draws

o to struggle against great odds, to meet enemies undaunted!
to be entirely alone with them, to find how much one can stand!
to look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, face to face!
to mount the scaffold, to advance to the muzzles of guns
with perfect nonchalance!
to be indeed a god!

o to sail to sea in a ship!
to leave this steady unendurable land
to leave the tiresome sameness of the streets, the sidewalks
and the houses
to leave you o you solid motionless land, and entering a ship
to sail and sail and sail!

o to have life henceforth a poem of new joys!
to dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on, float on!
to be a sailor of the world bound for all ports
a ship itself, (see indeed these sails i spread to the sun and air,)
a swift and swelling ship full of rich words, full of joys

- norman dello joio

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