remix of Eliot's Wasteland part One [the Burial of the Dead::nam]

NAM

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APRIL is the cruellest month

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breeding, mixing, stirring, covering, feeding

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In the mountains, there you feel free.

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There is shadow under this red rock, 

(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),

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And I will show you something different from either
 
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Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

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I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 

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Unreal city, under the brown fog of a winter dawn 

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wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor

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where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours

With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine 

'je finis.'