Ash Wednesday

Askonsdag

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn

Mörker och ljus, hopp och brist på hopp, och den ljuva stillhet som ett ögonblick infinner sig när man överlämnat sig åt det som ligger bortanför hoppet.

I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?





Eliot läser Ash Wednesday


Upplevelsen av att det trots allt finns en sanning. Det gäller bara att inte försöka hålla fast den.

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice