Cascando by Samuel Beckett

I shared this poem with my Masters class today.  The professor got me to read it twice, I think she found me reticent the first time and I really was unsure how it would go down as it was so deep.  However, as we were sharing I felt the need to bare a little piece of my soul with a poem which has been of personal significance to me for 25 years.

After the second reading which certainly had more feeling although I didn't reach my maximum performance, there was a heavy silence in the room, a weightiness where people seemed to have receded deep inside of themselves.  I was a little concerned and wondered how on earth the prof was going to dig us all out of this deep hole.  Masterfully she did, gradually and respectfully, and later on my classmates assured me they were appreciative of my sharing this poem.  

Anyway here it is by the wonderfully profound Samuel Beckett.  Cascando....

Cascando

1

why not merely the despaired of
occasion of
wordshed

is it not better abort than be barren

the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want
bringing up the bones the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours
all always is it better too soon than never
the black want splashing their faces
saying again nine days never floated the loved
nor nine months
nor nine lives

2

saying again
if you do not teach me I shall not learn
saying again there is a last
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing not knowing pretending
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love

the churn of stale words in the heart again
love love love thud of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words

terrified again
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved and not by you
of knowing not knowing pretending
pretending

I and all the others that will love you
if they love you

3

unless they love you

(S. Beckett, 1936)

from Collected Poems in English and French, S. Beckett, Grove Press, Inc. N.Y. 1977


I'm now building courage to write my own version of an all enduring love poem...watch this space.