lirik lagu william hootkins - walt whitman - from song of myself
i celebrate myself, and sing myself
and what i assume you shall assume
for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you
i loafe and invite my soul
i lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass
my tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air
born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same
i, now thirty~seven years old in perfect health begin
hoping to cease not till death
creeds and schools in abeyance
retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten
i harbor for good or bad, i permit to speak at every hazard
nature without check with original energy
houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes
i breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it
the distillation would intoxicate me also, but i shall not let it
the atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless
it is for my mouth forever, i am in love with it
i will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked
i am mad for it to be in contact with me
the smoke of my own breath
echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love~root, silk~thread, crotch and vine
my respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs
the sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark~color’d sea~rocks, and of hay in the barn
the sound of the belch’d words of my voice loos’d to the eddies of the wind
a few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms
the play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag
the delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill~sides
the feeling of health, the full~noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun
have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much?
have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems
you shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)
you shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books
you shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me
you shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self
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