quarta-feira, 29 de setembro de 2010

Three quarks for Muster Mark!

So sailed the stout ship Nansy Hans. From Liff away. For Nattenlaender. As who has come returns. Farvel, farerne! Goodbark, goodbye!

Now follow we out by Starloe!
Finnegan's Wake — Episode 2: Part 4
— Three quarks for Muster Mark!

Sure he hasn't got much of a bark

And sure any he has it's all beside the mark.

But O, Wreneagle Almighty, wouldn't un be a sky of a lark

To see that old buzzard whooping about for uns shirt in the dark

And he hunting round for uns speckled trousers around by Palmer

stown Park?

Hohohoho, moulty Mark!

You're the rummest old rooster ever flopped out of a Noah's ark

And you think you're cock of the wark.

Fowls, up! Tristy's the spry young spark

That'll tread her and wed her and bed her and red her

Without ever winking the tail of a feather

And that's how that chap's going to make his money and mark!

Overhoved, shrillgleescreaming. That song sang seaswans. The winging ones. Seahawk, seagull, curlew and plover, kestrel and capercallzie. All the birds of the sea they trolled out rightbold when they smacked the big kuss of Trustan with Usolde.

And there they were too, when it was dark, whilest the wildcaps was circling, as slow their ship, the winds aslight, upborne the fates, the wardorse moved, by courtesy of Mr Deaubaleau Downbellow Kaempersally, listening in, as hard as they could, in Dubbeldorp, the donker, by the tourneyold of the wattarfalls, with their vuoxens and they kemin in so hattajocky (only a quartebuck askull for the last acts) to the solans and the sycamores and the wild geese and the gannets and the migratories and the mistlethrushes and the auspices and all the birds of the rockbysuckerassousyoceanal sea, all four of them, all sighing and sobbing, and listening. Moykle ahoykling!

James Joyce, Finnegans Wake, Faber and Faber, 1939.