Song by Allen Ginsberg

Photo by Aileen Devlin

 SONG

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 must rest
in the arms of love
             at last,
must 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.

"Song” by Allen Ginsberg from Collected Poems 1947-1980. © Harper Collins, 1981.

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