Allen Ginsberg

Ce gândesc despre tine în seara asta, Walt Whitman, pentru că m-am plimbat pe trotuare, pe sub copaci, cu o teribilă durere de cap, stingher privind

Mă gândesc la tine în seara asta, Walt Whitman, pentru că ne-am plimbat pe trotuare, pe sub copaci, cu o teribilă durere de cap, stingher,

(traducere de Domnica Drumea) I Am văzut cele mai luminate minți ale generației mele distruse de nebunie, flămânzind isterice goale,

Am trecut pe malul docului bananier al containerelor de plumb și m-am așezat în umbra imensă a locomotivei South Pacific să privesc apusul de

Coada întoarsă către răsăritul roșu deasupra coroanei de ienupăr singuratică coțofană croncănind. Înnebunesc la Oryoki în camera altarului – scai

America, ți-am dat totul și acum sunt nimic. America, doi dolari și douăzeci și șapte de cenți, 17 ianuarie, 1956. Îmi ies din minți America,

Americă, ți-am dat tot, iar acum nu mai simt nimic, Americă, doi dolari și douăzeci și șapte de cenți în ziua de 11 ianuarie 1956. Nu mă mai pot

Lui Dumnezeu: să-i iluminezi pe toți oamenii. Începând cu Skid Road. Fie ca Vestul și Washingtonul să se transforme într-un loc mai nobil, plaza

Mă gândesc la tine în seara asta, Walt Whitman, pentru că m-am plimbat pe trotuare, pe sub copaci, cu o teribilă durere de cap, stingher,

America I\'ve given you all and now I\'m nothing. America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956. I can\'t stand my own mind.

Please master can I touch your cheek please master can I kneel at your feet please master can I loosen your blue pants please master can I

The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction the weight, the weight we

At gauzy dusk, thin haze like cigarette smoke ribbons past Chrysler Building\'s silver fins tapering delicately needletopped, Empire State\'s

Real as a dream What shall I do with this great opportunity to fly? What is the interpretation of this planet, this moon? if I can dream

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the streets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the

Stand up against governments, against God. Stay irresponsible. Say only what we know & imagine. Absolutes are Coercion. Change is

Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is

Homage to Kenneth Koch If I were doing my Laundry I\'d wash my dirty Iran I\'d throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory

I walked outside & the bomb\'d dropped lots of plutonium all over the Lower East Side There weren\'t any buildings left just iron

You\'ll bare your bones you\'ll grow you\'ll pray you\'ll only know When the light appears, boy, when the light appears You\'ll sing &

O dear sweet rosy unattainable desire ...how sad, no way to change the mad cultivated asphodel, the visible reality... and

When I die I don\'t care what happens to my body throw ashes in the air, scatter \'em in East River bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey,

Hey Father Death, I\'m flying home Hey poor man, you\'re all alone Hey old daddy, I know where I\'m going Father Death, Don\'t cry any

Last nite I dreamed of T.S. Eliot welcoming me to the land of dream Sofas couches fog in England Tea in his digs Chelsea rainbows curtains

Elan that lifts me above the clouds into pure space, timeless, yea eternal Breath transmuted into words Transmuted back to breath in one

Drinking my tea Without sugar- No difference. The sparrow shits upside down --ah! my brain & eggs Mayan head in a Pacific driftwood

Millions of babies watching the skies Bellies swollen, with big round eyes On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts Noplace to shit but sand

railroad yard in San Jose I wandered desolate in front of a tank factory and sat on a bench near the switchman\'s shack. A flower

Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear

And the Communists have nothing to offer but fat cheeks and eyeglasses and lying policemen and the Capitalists proffer Napalm and money in

Reality is a question of realizing how real the world is already. Time is Eternity, ultimate and immovable; everyone\'s an angel.

I’m delighted by the velocity of money as it whistles through the windows of Lower East Side Delighted by skyscrapers rising the old grungy

To Ezra Pound These are the names of the companies that have made money from this war nineteenhundredsixtyeight Annodomini

In nineteen hundred forty-nine China was won by Mao Tse-tung Chiang Kai Shek\'s army ran away They were waiting there in Thailand

Under silver wing San Francisco\'s towers sprouting thru thin gas clouds, Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure Berkeley hills

Whom bomb? We bomb\'d them! Whom bomb? We bomb\'d them! Whom bomb? We bomb\'d them! Whom bomb? We bomb\'d them! Whom bomb? We bomb

I In the depths of the Greyhound Terminal sitting dumbly on a baggage truck looking at the sky waiting for the Los Angeles Express to

Is that the only way we can become like Indians, like Rhinoceri, like Quartz Crystals, like organic farmers, like what we imagine Adam &

I hope my good old asshole holds out 60 years it\'s been mostly OK Tho in Bolivia a fissure operation survived the altiplano hospital-- a

Blandly mother takes him strolling by railroad and by river -he\'s the son of the absconded hot rod angel- and he imagines cars and

I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn

I What new element before us unborn in nature? Is there a new thing under the Sun? At last inquisitive Whitman a modern epic,

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the

The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the kitchen crooked to take a place in the light, the closet door opened, because I used

a lot of mouths and cocks, under the world there\'s a lot of come, and a lot of saliva dripping into brooks, There\'s a lot of Shit under the

Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks. Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room -- Thistles blossomed late afternoon. Put

Cool black night thru redwoods cars parked outside in shade behind the gate, stars dim above the ravine, a fire burning by the side porch

I came home and found a lion in my room... [First draft of \"The Lion for Real\" CP 174-175] A lion met America in the road they stared

I -- A Pleasant Afternoon for Michael Brownstein and Dick Gallup One day 3 poets and 60 ears sat under a green-striped Chau- tauqua

Now I\'ll record my secret vision, impossible sight of the face of God: It was no dream, I lay broad waking on a fabulous couch in

\"Soyez muette pour moi, Idole contemplative...\" I came home and found a lion in my living room Rushed out on the fire escape screaming

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the

I speak of love that comes to mind: The moon is faithful, although blind; She moves in thought she cannot speak. Perfect care has made

Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross surveys the city\'s

That tree said I don\'t like that white car under me, it smells gasoline That other tree next to it said O you\'re always

I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn

For Carl Solomon I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging

America I\'ve given you all and now I\'m nothing. America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956. I can\'t stand my own mind.

America I\'ve given you all and now I\'m nothing. America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956. I can\'t stand my own mind.

I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn