Ruim honderd jaar geleden schreef #The_Waste_Land" target="_blank" title="">T.S. Eliot een gedicht dat wordt beschouwd als één van de belangrijkste literaire werken van de twintigste eeuw. In ruim vierhonderd verzen probeert de Amerikaans-Britse schrijver en filosoof – in de woorden van een leek, die bij voorbaat al tekortschieten – de uitzichtloosheid van het bestaan, de dood van een wereldbeeld en zijn eigen verwarring en wanhoop daarover uit te drukken. Met de verfilming van The Waste Land (105 min.) onderzoekt Chris Teerink welke betekenis het ondoorgrondelijke werk van Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888-1965) nog heeft in de 21e eeuw. #culture #filosofie



I. The Burial of the Dead

"April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight.
And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water.

Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust."

II. A Game of Tarot Cards

"Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards.

Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see.
I do not find The Hanged Man.
Fear death by water.

I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you.
If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days."

III. Unreal City

"Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying:
‘Stetson!’"

This poem weaves together themes of death, memory, desire, and the uncanny, drawing from various literary, musical, historical, and popular cultural references. Eliot’s exploration of the human condition resonates across time, inviting readers to contemplate the complexities of existence.

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