Beat! Beat! VrijMiBo!
Het is weekend. Hier is Walt Whitman. Beat! beat! drums!blow! bugles! blow! Through the windowsthrough doorsburst like a ruthless force, Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation, Into the school where the scholar is studying, Leave not the bridegroom quietno happiness must he have now with his bride, Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain, So fierce you whirr and pound you drumsso shrill you bugles blow. Beat! beat! drums!blow! bugles! blow! Over the traffic of citiesover the rumble of wheels in the streets; Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds, No bargainers bargains by dayno brokers or speculatorswould they continue? Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing? Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge? Then rattle quicker, heavier drumsyou bugles wilder blow. Beat! beat! drums!blow! bugles! blow! Make no parleystop for no expostulation, Mind not the timidmind not the weeper or prayer, Mind not the old man beseeching the young man, Let not the childs voice be heard, nor the mothers entreaties, Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses, So strong you thump O terrible drumsso loud you bugles blow. Prettig weekend. En be nice.