I had a small paperback copy of this in a collection when I was far too young . We are working class people . This is the collective weath that my mother curated for us. I am thankfull to all who made this avialble . I miss you mom .

Not me shivering when I heard Irons say “fear” because I immediately thought of his role as Scar! On a real note, both voices are beautiful for this poem.

I have been reading this poem for over thirty - almost forty years - and this is the first time I have heard it brought to its full life and beauty! Wow! Just wow! Thank you!! So beautiful!!!

1.The Burial of the Dead - 00:00 -- 5:00. 2.A Game of Chess - 05:04 -- 10:59. 3.The Fire Sermon - 11:02 -- 19:06. 4.Death by Water - 19:11 -- 19:50. 5. What the Thunder Said - 19:55 --

Only Jeremy Irons should read poetry - his voice is so beautiful, so emotive. This combination of voices is very good. Prickles up the spine whilst listening........

A collection of words, spoken so beautifully together has created an art for which we have no word.

Thanks to this reading I just finished memorizing the entire poem.

The multiple voices and accents are very effective in catching the essence of the poem.

I had really enjoyed Elliot's own reading, as well as Sir Alec Guinness. But this version brings a deeper, stereoscopic dimension by employing the back-and-fourth banter of both a male and female voice. Well done. And bravo on the different accents! The original title of the poem was, "He do the police in different voices."

The rendition of the poem in mixed voices, male and female, is an absolute top drawer; exquisite to the ear. Thank your for a wonderful treat!!!

I love this poem so much it is my favorite

A recitation to remember. Jeremy Irons is a legend. His acting in the film Lolita first made me his fan. His utteration of the beginning lines of Lolita has made me a permanent lover of the book. I have heard T. S. Eliot's lovesong in his voice, and here he has again stolen the soul. There are many recitation of Wasteland to be found in KZfaq but this is the first I come across with recitation by both man and woman. The 'Hurry up please' portion is wonderfully done. Next I wait for a rendition totally by a female voice.

What an amazing job, what an amazing poem. It's the best thing

Magnificent and alive. I forewent watching television in favor of this performance during my breakfast this November morning. Thank you. ( l can watch Samantha Bee another time.)

1:56 - And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Both Atkins and Irons are impressive.

Simply incredible!

Beyond Beautiful! To listen - again and again ...

Both Eileen and Jeremy recite the poem sensitively without over-performing the jump cuts in the non-linear narrative. Jeremy dexterously elongates the first syllable of the last word 'shanti' to underscore the nuanced subtext of the coda.

This performance is absolutely glorious!

his voice is so beautiful, so emotiv

Good reading i was deeply moved

Incredible to think that this is a century old. The twin narration bring the multiple voices to life. Amazing.

Amazing!

This is so so so beautiful and powerful! Thank you so so much!!!

Thank you So Much : Captivating and Very Helpful

My fav narration of this brilliant poem 😄

Amazing amazing performances

o, great! both of them r great. i have never heard before though passed post graduate from english. That means m totally nil. thank u so much.

A poem for these troubled times.

Absolutely phenomenal...

7:21 I love this part, it’s so dark. It’s reminds me a bit to The Hour of the Wolf by Ingmar Bergman

Wonderful narration

This was in my syllabus... the poem I am now hearing.... amazing reciting, Irons and Atkins. Thank you so much for uploading.

A masterpiece

Wow! Just Wow.

Wonderful

Loved it

fantastic

Oh it's great 👌👌👌👌

Was für ein Erlebnis!!!!

Excellent just excellent or simmplly, WOW!

Fantastic

Oooh, I have chills. Amazing!

the last shantih shantih shantih gave me goosebumps

Thank goodness for this . I thought we were stuck with the Alec Guinness " Shakespearean Thespian " parody !!

Fantastic! 🙏❤👼💕🥰

Excellent.

FABBRO I. The Burial of the Dead April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s, My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat zu Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du? “You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; “They called me the hyacinth girl.” -Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Oed’ und leer das Meer. Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!) Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations. Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water. I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring. Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone, Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days. Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine. There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: “Stetson! “You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! “That corpse you planted last year in your garden, “Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year? “Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed? “Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men, “Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again! “You! hypocrite lecteur!-mon semblable,-mon frère!”

perfect.

Wonderful reading, thanks a lot to whole team...

Amazing. Thanks :D

The poem was published exactly 100 years ago in the October issue of _The Criterion_ #TheWasteLand100

There is not even solitude in the mountains But red sullen faces sneer and snarl From doors of mudcracked houses If there were water And no rock If there were rock And also water And water A spring A pool among the rock If there were the sound of water only Not the cicada And dry grass singing But sound of water over a rock Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop But there is no water Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman -But who is that one on the other side of you? What is that sound high in the air Murmur of maternal lamentation Who are those hooded hordes swarming Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth Ringed by the flat horizon only What is the city over the mountains Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air Falling towers Jerusalem Athens Alexandria Vienna London Unreal A woman drew her long black hair out tight And fiddled whisper music on those strings And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings And crawled head downward down a blackened wall And upside down in air were towers Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells. In this decayed hole among the mountains In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel There is the empty chapel, only the wind’s home, It has no windows, and the door swings, Dry bones can harm no one. Only a cock stood on the rooftree Co co rico co co rico In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust Bringing rain Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves Waited for rain, while the black clouds Gathered far distant, over Himavant. The jungle crouched, humped in silence. Then spoke the thunder DA Datta: what have we given? My friend, blood shaking my heart The awful daring of a moment’s surrender Which an age of prudence can never retract By this, and this only, we have existed Which is not to be found in our obituaries Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor In our empty rooms DA Dayadhvam: I have heard the key Turn in the door once and turn once only We think of the key, each in his prison Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus DA Damyata: The boat responded Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar The sea was calm, your heart would have responded Gaily, when invited, beating obedient To controlling hands I sat upon the shore Fishing, with the arid plain behind me Shall I at least set my lands in order? London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina em>Quando fiam ceu chelidon-O swallow swallow Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie These fragments I have shored against my ruins Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo’s mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata. Shantih shantih shantih

can you please tell me exactly how many speakers do we have in this poem ? i need help with it.

dope

soon you'll achieve the stability you strive for. in the only way that its granted. in a place among the fossils of yer time

Nice

Never heard this before. Is the poet dissecting his own psych?

7:22

Oh to sit in front of them as they recite

I think I like Alec Guinness's version more but this is the one that gets the meaning across with greater clarity.

A REQUIEM FOR THE RULING MINORITY A SYMPHONY FOR THE BOURGEOISIE BOURGEOISIE BOURGEOISIE A SING ALONG SONG TO FREE THE PEASANTS SERFS AND SLAVES MAN IS BORN FREE AND IS EVERYWHERE IN CHAINS

Abhishek line 13:56

1:21

خراب المملكة أم خراب الملكوت ؟! ....خطيئة أصلية ام رؤيا (( سفر الجامعة )) ...الكل باطل وقبض الريح ؟! .....الثمالة الأخيرة في كأس النزوة الرومانسية ؟

A Scapeshifter

No.

Terrible reading.

Actors always spoil poetry with their tedious acting and this is no exception.