whitman

Whitman was heavily interested in and influenced by music – so I think it’s sufficient to assume that if Walt were around today, he’d be bumpin’ to his ipod just like the rest of us.  As I hear songs that sound like they’d rock Walt’s world, I’m going to add them to his “Songs of Myself” Playlist.

Track 1: Natasha Bedingfield, “Unwritten”

Lyrics:

I am unwritten, can’t read my mind, I’m undefined
I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We’ve been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can’t live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

listen here!

Whitman’s ” Version” via “Song of Myself”

I was never measured, and never will be measured; I too am untranslatable…/There is that in me . . . . I do not know what it is . . . . but I know it is in me.

Unscrew the locks from the doors! /Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!/To behold the daybreak! /The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows

See ever so far . . . . there is limitless space outside of that/Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward/you must find out for yourself./ Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,/You must travel it for yourself/I skirt the sierras . . . . my palms cover continents, /I am afoot with my vision/It is not far . . . . it is within reach

Do I contradict myself?/Very well then . . . . I contradict myself

Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward/you must find out for yourself./ Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,/You must travel it for yourself/I skirt the sierras . . . . my palms cover continents, /I am afoot with my vision/It is not far . . . . it is within reach

Unscrew the locks from the doors! /Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!/To behold the daybreak! /The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows

See ever so far . . . . there is limitless space outside of that/Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward/you must find out for yourself./ Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,/You must travel it for yourself/I skirt the sierras . . . . my palms cover continents, /I am afoot with my vision/It is not far . . . . it is within reach

Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward/you must find out for yourself./ Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,/You must travel it for yourself/I skirt the sierras . . . . my palms cover continents, /I am afoot with my vision/It is not far . . . . it is within reach

We should surely bring up again where we now stand,/ And as surely go as much farther, and then farther and farther.

 

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