Digital Manuscript ProjectMalone meurt / Malone Dies

my way is in the sand flowing
between the shingle & the dune
the summer rain rains on my life
on me my life harrying fleeing
to its beginning to its end
my peace is there in the receding mist
when I shall rest from treading these long
shifting thresholds
and live the space of a door
that opens & shuts.
what would I do without this
world faceless incurious
where to be lasts but an instant where
every instant
spills into the void the ignorance of having been
without this wave where in the end
body and shadow together are engulfed
what would I do without this
silence where the murmurs die
the pantings the frenzies towards
succour towards love
without this sky that soars
above its ballast dust
what would I do what I did
yesterday & the day before
peering out of my deadlight looking
for another
wandering with me whirling far from
the living
in a cracked space
voiceless among the voices
cooped up with me.
I would love my love to die
and the rain to be falling on the graveyard
and on me walking the streets
mourning
- Segments
Malone meurt / Malone Dies © 2017 Samuel Beckett Digital Manuscript Project.
Editors: Dirk Van Hulle, Pim Verhulst and Vincent Neyt