Monday, June 23, 2008


The weight of the world is love.
Under the burden of solitude,
under the burden of dissatisfaction
the weight
the weight we carry is love.
Who can deny?
In dreams it touches the body,
in thought constructs a miracle,
in imagination anguishes till born in human-
looks out of the heart
burning with purity-
for the burden of life is love,
but we carry the weight wearily,
and so much rest
in the arms of love at last,
much rest in the arms of love.
No rest without love,
no sleep without dreams of love-
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels or machines,
the final wish is love
-cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold if denied:
the weight is too heavy
-must give for no return
as thought is given in solitude
in all the excellence of its excess.
The warm bodies shine together in the darkness,
the hand moves to the center of the flesh,
the skin trembles in happiness
and the soul comes joyful to the eye-
yes, yes,
that's what I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body where I was born.

-Allen Ginsberg, San Jose, 1954