Meticulously adorned with choice and perfect photos. Well done!And that reading is always so fresh. Verty clear too. Proof, if we needed it, that poets themselves are so often the best readers of their own work and often of others too boot. Thnx.
Oh, this is a wonderful editing job! I've heard this before a number of times and it's usually full of static. This is amazingly clear. Thank you so much!
I have never found poetry easy - lack of hearing it I think- so this was a joy to my ears. I’ve known the poem for years, but Eliot’s reading brought it alive and fresh and wonderful to listen to. Thank you
I first read this poem in its Bengali translation (which is excellent by the way) by Rabindranath when I was a teenager. Since then this poem whether in English or Bengali touches a deep chord somewhere every time I read or hear it.
A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.” And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet. Then the camel men cursing and grumbling And running away, and wanting their liquor and women, And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters, And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly And the villages dirty and charging high prices: A hard time we had of it. At the end we preferred to travel all night, Sleeping in snatches, With the voices singing in our ears, saying That this was all folly. Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness, And three trees on the low sky, And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow. Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver, And feet kicking the empty wine-skins. But there was no information, and so we continued And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory. All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly, We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, But had thought they were different; this Birth was Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.
By chance I heard this familiar poem (from school) many years later about midnight as it came on the car radio one Winter driving home. What a meaningful reading it was - by Sir Alec Guinness. Spectacular. I found it again on DailyMotion. Thank you.
The Magi shall be shielded, plotters and killers will drop like flies they shall be exposed the warmongers will fail whats in the dark shall come out to the light.
The bible no where says three Magi, it says Wise Men and no where does it mention three. They theorize from the three gifts. Sad we do not stick to what the Bible says period. Daniel was a wise man and in Daniel 2:27 he makes a distinction between the Wise Men, Astrologers, magicians and soothsayers. Daniel and his companions weren't magi, short for magicians, they were Wise Men. Let the bible interpret the bible.
Perhaps it would be best if you skipped poetry altogether, and all the rest of man's artistic achievements. They're only going to cause you more unnecessary grief.
Thank you for such a deep and great poem for X'Mas: a beautiful thought about Life itself on this ever-traveling world of ours...
"it is ALWAYS a white horse" - D H Lawrence
I was first introduced to this poem by the Bengali tranlsation done by Rabindranath Tagore no less. The translation is as good as the original.
A Christmas gift from the Great Poet himself! Poetry is indeed the music of the soul. Thank you so much for sharing this gift!
Thank you for uploading this, magic!
Meticulously adorned with choice and perfect photos. Well done!And that reading is always so fresh. Verty clear too. Proof, if we needed it, that poets themselves are so often the best readers of their own work and often of others too boot. Thnx.
Simply wonderful. Thank you for posting this.
Oh, this is a wonderful editing job! I've heard this before a number of times and it's usually full of static. This is amazingly clear. Thank you so much!
I have never found poetry easy - lack of hearing it I think- so this was a joy to my ears. I’ve known the poem for years, but Eliot’s reading brought it alive and fresh and wonderful to listen to. Thank you
this is terrific - thank you for putting it up!
I love this great agnostic poem altho for me he reads text a bit fast instead of relishing the language. Robin Witting
Bob, what a treasure! Thanks for the find and the fix.
Thanks for posting, and thank you for working on the audio quality.
Try closing your eyes while listening to it.
One of my favourite heroes of literature and faith reads one of the most profound moments of faith and literature.
Thank you! I've been looking for his rendition of it... most of the vids here are other people reading the poem.
Can u make me understand the theme of this poem ?
Thanks in anticipation 😇
I find this to be a great agnostic; soulful and quizzing. R
Robin Witting
It grows on you...doesn't it?...the more you hear it...like all poetry should.
Thanks, for uploading this, we read it during our WAEC years ago.
I first read this poem in its Bengali translation (which is excellent by the way) by Rabindranath when I was a teenager. Since then this poem whether in English or Bengali touches a deep chord somewhere every time I read or hear it.
T.S Eliot has become my favourite poet after this❤️
This is a treasure indeed.
This topic is on my syllabus .
I'm a student of English Literature.😊
Cool! Might I ask who is your favourite author so far?
@@user-sx1ug6qn4w My favourite author is Charles Lamb.
And what about you?
A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.”
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
The silken girls bringing us sherbet - bring me more!
the one and only....
By chance I heard this familiar poem (from school) many years later about midnight as it came on the car radio one Winter driving home. What a meaningful reading it was - by Sir Alec Guinness. Spectacular. I found it again on DailyMotion. Thank you.
Oh, DailyMotion, thank you for reminding us of it. The Guiness reading is here too, on RUclips.
i loved this poem back in the school days
The Magi shall be shielded, plotters and killers will drop like flies they shall be exposed the warmongers will fail whats in the dark shall come out to the light.
T.S Eliot and Roger Miller! We must think alike!
wonderful explained monsieur
Anyone here still on the Guardian's diet?
Yep!
Yes!
Yess!
Yes, but already behind!
Yes- but I am a bit behind! It was worth it just for Maya Angelou and Peter Gabriel with Kate Bush!
very well done thank you
now i enjoyed d poem.helpful. from a literature student!
Languidly lavishing
A bit behind on our Janurary 2020 Guardian literary trail but this is a pondorous and evocative reading.
I like it ,very well done .
Listening to this because I have to read it at a Christmas Service....I have no idea how to read poetry :/
I agree, no one reads like Eliot. Wonderful poem but it's read like a poem not as a real person would say it. A recitation not a reading.
Nice.
Read slowly...all poetry should be slow...from: "In Her Shoes" staring Cameron Diaz.
LANGUAGE!!!!!!!
Idk why the voice is so scary to listen. Anyway a very nice Poetry!
I prefer Frank Turners version!
Hilarious - how the English viewed (and many still do view) "abroad".
Were you typing while recording?-
Remember tape recorders? The sound is probably something from the machine.
The bible no where says three Magi, it says Wise Men and no where does it mention three. They theorize from the three gifts. Sad we do not stick to what the Bible says period. Daniel was a wise man and in Daniel 2:27 he makes a distinction between the Wise Men, Astrologers, magicians and soothsayers. Daniel and his companions weren't magi, short for magicians, they were Wise Men. Let the bible interpret the bible.
Perhaps it would be best if you skipped poetry altogether, and all the rest of man's artistic achievements. They're only going to cause you more unnecessary grief.
A magus is a priest of ancient Persia, very probably Zoroastrian.