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The Hollow Men (Els homes espantall)

by TORD

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lyrics

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other kingdom
Remember us - if at all - not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

(T.S. Eliot, 1925)

credits

released April 1, 2020
painting by Enguany
design by Laura Pagès

license

all rights reserved

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about

TORD Barcelona, Spain

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