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Position:Home>Poetry> Can anyone give me the full text of Samuel Beckett's short poem "Mort dQuestion:15 line poem written in French, don't mind if you give me French or English, very grateful to you all. Needed badly quickly. So far I only have... Mort de A.D. - by Samuel Beckett and there to be there still there pressed against my old plank scabbed with black days and nights blindly ground to being there and to not fleeing and fleeing and being there bent toward the avowal of time dying of having been what was does what it did to me to my friend dead yesterday gleaming eye long teeth panting in his beard devouring the life of saints a life by day of life reliving in the night its black sins dead yesterday while I lived and to be there drinking above the storm the guilt of time irremissible gripping the... Best Answer - Chosen by Asker: 15 line poem written in French, don't mind if you give me French or English, very grateful to you all. Needed badly quickly. So far I only have... Mort de A.D. - by Samuel Beckett and there to be there still there pressed against my old plank scabbed with black days and nights blindly ground to being there and to not fleeing and fleeing and being there bent toward the avowal of time dying of having been what was does what it did to me to my friend dead yesterday gleaming eye long teeth panting in his beard devouring the life of saints a life by day of life reliving in the night its black sins dead yesterday while I lived and to be there drinking above the storm the guilt of time irremissible gripping the... Is this what you ar looking for? It was just one extra line: Mort de A.D. and there to be there still there pressed against my old plank scabbed with black days and nights blindly ground to being there and to not fleeing and fleeing and being there bent toward the avowal of time dying of having been what was does what it did to me to my friend dead yesterday gleaming eye long teeth panting in his beard devouring the life of saints a life by day of life reliving in the night its black sins dead yesterday while I lived and to be there drinking above the storm the guilt of time irremissible gripping the old wood witness to departures witness to returns --Samuel Beckett trans. by Philip Nikolayev |