The Wild Common
D. H. Lawrence
The quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping,
Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame;
Above them, exultant, the peewits are sweeping:
They are lords of the desolate wastes of sadness their screamings proclaim.
Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth, lie
Low-rounded on the mournful grass they have bitten down to the quick.
Are they asleep? — Are they alive? — Now see, when I
Move my arms the hill bursts and heaves under their spurting kick.
The common flaunts bravely; but below, from the rushes
Crowds of glittering king-cups surge to challenge the blossoming bushes;
There the lazy streamlet pushes
Its curious course mildly; here it wakes again, leaps, laughs, and gushes.
Into a deep pond, an old sheep-dip,
Dark, overgrown with willows, cool, with the brook ebbing through so slow,
Naked on the steep, soft lip
Of the bank I stand watching my own white shadow quivering to and fro.
What if the gorse flowers shrivelled and kissing were lost?
Without the pulsing waters, where were the marigolds and the songs of the brook!
If my veins and my breasts with love embossed
Withered, my insolent soul would be gone like flowers that the hot wind took.
So my soul like a passionate woman turns,
Filled with remorseful terror to the man she scorned, and her love
For myself in my own eyes' laughter burns,
Runs ecstatic over the pliant folds rippling down to my belly from the breast-lights above.
Over my sunlit skin the warm, clinging air,
Rich with the songs of seven larks singing at once, goes kissing me glad.
And the soul of the wind and my blood compare
Their wandering happiness, and the wind, wasted in liberty, drifts on and is sad.
Oh but the water loves me and folds me,
Plays with me, sways me, lifts me and sinks me as though it were living blood,
Blood of a heaving woman who holds me,
Owning my supple body a rare glad thing, supremely good.
[Version 2: 1928]
The quick sparks on the gorse-bushes are leaping
Little jets of sunlight texture imitating flame;
Above them, exultant, the peewits are sweeping:
They have triumphed again o'er the ages, their screamings proclaim.
Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth, lie
Low-rounded on the mournful turf they have bitten down to the quick.
Are they asleep? — are they living? — Now see, when I
Lift my arms, the hill bursts and heaves under their spurting kick!
The common flaunts bravely; but below, from the rushes
Crowds of glittering king-cups surge to challenge the blossoming bushes;
There the lazy streamlet pushes
His bent course mildly; here wakes again, leaps, laughs, and gushes
Into a deep pond, an old sheep-dip,
Dark, overgrown with willows, cool, with the brook ebbing through so slow;
Naked on the steep, soft lip
Of the turf I stand watching my own white shadow quivering to and fro.
What if the gorse-flowers shrivelled, and I were gone?
What if the waters ceased, where were the marigolds then, and the gudgeon?
What is this thing that I look down upon?
White on the water wimples my shadow, strains like a dog on a string, to run on.
How it looks back, like a white dog to its master!
I on the bank all substance, my shadow all shadow looking up to me, looking back!
And the water runs, and runs faster, runs faster,
And the white dog dances and quivers, I am holding his cord quite slack.
But how splendid it is to be substance, here!
My shadow is neither here nor there; but I, I am royally here!
I am here! I am here! screams the peewit; the may-blobs burst out in a laugh as they hear!
Here! flick the rabbits. Here! pants the gorse. Here! say the insects far and near.
Over my skin in the sunshine, the warm, clinging air
Flushed with the songs of seven larks singing at once, goes kissing me glad.
You are here! You are here! We have found you! Everywhere
We sought you substantial, you touchstone of caresses, you naked lad!
Oh but the water loves me and folds me,
Plays with me, sways me, lifts me and sinks me, murmurs: Oh marvellous stuff!
No longer shadow! — and it holds me
Close, and it rolls me, enfolds me, touches me, as if never it could touch me enough.
Sun, but in substance, yellow water-blobs!
Wings and feathers on the crying, mysterious ages, peewits wheeling!
All that is right, all that is good; all that is God takes substance! a rabbit lobs
In confirmation, I hear sevenfold lark-songs pealing.
금작화 덤불에 불꽃 뛰놀로
작은 햇살 튀어올라 불꽃 같구나.
그 위로 딱새들 환희에 차 날아들며
소리친다 : 우리들 또다시 뭇시대 지배했노라.
갈색의 흙덩이, 토끼들은
속까지 뜯어먹어 슬퍼하는 풀 위에 웅크리고 누워 있다.
잠을 자나? 살아 있나? 자, 보소
이 내 팔 쳐드니, 토끼들 놀라 도망치고 언덕은 진동하며 한숨 몰아쉰다.
초원이 으스대며 뻐기지만, 미나리아재비
저 밑 골풀 숲서 반짝이며 몰려와 금작화 덤불에 도전한다.
게으른 작은 시내 저 밑의 꼬부랑길 느릿느릿 흐르더니,
이 곳서 정신들어 뛰놀며 웃으며 콸콸 흘러든다.
깊은 못으로, 오래된 양의 목욕터인 이 곳으로
버들이 무성하여 어둡고 시원한 곳, 시냇물 느릿느릿 빠져나가는 곳,
가파른 연못가 나 벗은 채 서서
흔들리는 하얀 나의 그림자 내려다본다.
금작화 시들고 나 사라지면 어찌될까?
미나리아재비 무성하고 모샘치 노니는 이 연못이 마르면 어찌될까?
내가 보는 이건 무엇인가?
물 위에 흔들리는 하얀 내 그림자, 끈에 묶인 개 한 마리 당기는 모습.
그림자 나를 본다, 하얀 개 주인 보듯!
못가의 나는 단단한 실체, 허깨비 그림자는 나를 보고 eh 쳐다본다.
물살 흘러흘러 빨라지고
하얀 개 춤추며 부르르 떨어, 나 개의 목줄을 늦추어 준다.
아, 황홀한지고! 이 곳에 실체로 있다니
내 그림잔 허깨비, 그러나 난 당당히 여기 있다!
나 여기 있어! 여기에! 딱새가 외친다. 5월의 꽃들, 이 소리에 웃으며 봉오리 터트린다.
여기 있어! 토끼가 깡충 뛴다. 여기 있어! 금작화가 할딱인다. 여기 있어! 벌레들이 여기저기서 외친다.
햇빛 받은 내 몸 따스히 감싸 주던 대기가
일곱 종달새의 노래로 흘러넘쳐 반가이 내 몸에 키스한다.
너 여기 있었구나! 여기에! 널 찾아냈구나! 우린 온통
실체의 너를 찾아다녔는데. 애무의 시금석, 벌거벗은 젊은이 너!