E.E. Cummings, ‘O swiete spontane ierde’

 
O swiete spontane
ierde hoe faken hawwe
de
slije

        fingers fan
gleie filosofen jo
knypt
en

pript
,hat de ûndogense tomme
fan de wittenskip jo
skientme

                  puond        .hoe
faken hawwe religys jo
op harren bientige knibbels lutsen
jo kniesd en

knoeid dat jy swier wurde soenen fan
goaden
             (mar
trou

oan it sliepstee sûnder wjergea
fan de dea jins
ritmyske
frijer

           jouwe jy harren

 
ta antwurd inkeld

                                  maityd)

 

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

             fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

       beauty        .how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
        (but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

          thou answerest

 
them only with

                             spring)

 

Ut Tulips and Chimneys, 1923

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