cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out Every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever
as to any good.
WH Auden
Translated by Gilberto Forti
Stop all the clocks, cut off the phone you silence the dog with a bone succulent. Close the pianos and with muffled drum the Bring out the coffin.
let the mourners come
intersect planes circle moaning overhead '
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is' Dead.
Crepe bows round the white necks of the pigeons
, the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves put.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
my working week and my Sunday rest
, My noon ', my midnight, my
talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
do not need more 'stars: put all
; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
emptied the ocean and sweep up the wood;
' cause now more 'nothing can' benefit.
