Never Sea Land

T.S. Eliot’s Lost Sea Shanty of J. Alfred Prufrock

found by Alec Crawford

daichi ni sosogu yoake
tabidatsu toki o tsugeru
mirai o mezashi kakete yuku kaze
kono mune ni suikonda
yume dake o kizamitsuketa hitomi
bokura ni yuku michi o ataeru [1]

Ueda Kana — Opening Song, Final Fantasy Unlimited.

LET us dive then, you and I,
When the ocean is spread out against the sky
Like a mermaid stung by a jellyfish;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted currents,
The silent riptides
Of one-day tourist passes
To seafood parks with oyster-shell rides:
Currents that flow like so much pollution
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and buy a ticket.

On the beach the turtles come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow mouth that spits its waste upon my bruised cheek,
The yellow boot that grinds its cigar on my bruised cheek,
Sticks a straw into the milkshake of my sea foam,
Lingers upon the lips that ask for more,
It swirls around the mouth of waste that spews from outfalls,
Slips on the kelp-bed, now a refuse heap,
And seeing that it is a soft October night,
Choked by a 6-pack yoke, falls asleep.

And indeed there is no time
For the yellow boot that clips into my currents,
Spitting its waste over my bruised cheek;
There is no time, there is no time
To repair a reef to save the reefs I save;

There is no time to advance and retreat,
No time for all my skill and years of tides
That lift and drop the salty-sweet answers;
No time for you and no time for me,
No time left for a million ecosystems,
And for a million “whatever may comes,”
Before perfecting how to water ski.

On the beach the: turtles come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed you have no time
To wonder, ‘”Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
No time ta turn back and plug the hole,
Of the Black Spot in the middle of my soul -
[You will say: “How our catch is growing thin!”]
My blue-green coat, my crests mounting upon the waves,
My sparkles bright and twinkling, but deflected by dark glasses-
[You will say: ‘”But how our industry is thin!”]
Do you dare 
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute can’t reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:-
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
You have measured out my life with tidal moons;
I know the shores are dying with a dying fall
Beneath the sand lies Tutankhamen’s tomb
So how should I presume?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow currents
And felt the tortured trees clog my lifeblood
Rocks, pebbles, sand, silt, clay, destroying both land and sea.

I should have been a fat cat congressman
Scuttling across the floors of the White House

. . . . . . . .

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the floods, the tsunami, the wind,
Among the maelstrom, among the deaths of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have drowned you slowly with a smile,
To have dragged your universe into nothing
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Helle, come from the dead,
Come back to kill you ail, I shall kill you all”-
But you, drinking a soda on the shore
Would say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

Or would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After my beauty and safe passage, and serenity,
After the harbors, after the seashells, after full nets that trail along the floor –
And this, and so much more?-
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern could show you what I mean:
Show you it has been worth while
Would you, sipping a soda or tossing up a ball,
And turning toward my vastness, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”

. . . . . . . .

No! I am not a naiad, nor was meant to be;
I am Neptune’s boss, one that will do
To swell a progress, end a scene or two,
Control the king; no doubt, the main machine,
Not submissive, domineering,
Unconcerned, reckless, and tempestuous;
Turbulent, raging, wildly rearing;
You are all so ridiculous-
I am never, no never, the Fool.

I grow old . . . I grow old  . . .
My shimmering cloak no longer gold.

Shall I feed a school of fish? Do I dare to lick the sand?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the land.
I have heard the mermaids singing, hand-in-hand.

I do not think that they will sing to you.

You have seen them choking on neurotoxins
Struggling to breathe, to think, to survive
Silt-strangled until none is left alive

You have defiled the chambers of the sea,
And sea-girls choked with trawl nets red and brown
The mermaids curse you, and will not let you drown.
_______________________________________

[1]

Daylight breaking into the vast land,
Tells us it’s the beginning of a journey.
Heading towards the future and running into the wind,
I inhaled it.
A dream that’s engraved only within the eye,
It presents a way out for us.

[original link]