allen ginsberg - 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.