By Jack Kerouac
A never-before-published e-book of poems through Jack Kerouac—in a deluxe package
In 1952 and 1953 as he wandered round the US, Jack Kerouac jotted down spontaneous prose poems, or "sketches" as he known as them, on small notebooks that he stored in his blouse wallet. The poems recount his travels—New York, North Carolina, Lowell (Massachusetts, Kerouac’s birthplace), San Francisco, Denver, Kansas, Mexico—observations, and meditations on paintings and lifestyles. The poems are usually strung jointly in order that over the process a number of of them, a bit story—or travelogue—appears, entire in itself. released for the 1st time, Book of Sketches bargains a luminous, intimate, and transcendental glimpse of 1 of the main unique voices of the 20 th century at a key time in his literary and non secular improvement.
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Extra info for Book of Sketches
Rin vergongene ScbOnheiten neu erbliihn, Vois l'herbe dont le bord du ruisseau s'ognmente c On dirait le duvet d'une levre charmante • Ne pose pas tes pieds sur l'herbe avec cMdoln, Par la le sol 6tait un visage d'amante. n,<4:) '7 31 And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass Among the Guests Star - scatter'd on the Grass, And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot Where I made one - turn down on empty Olass I FihGerold 0 meine Freunde, gelobt, einst munter Euch Hier zu versammeln, wenn ich nicht mehr unter Eue Den Pokal voll Alten Weins :zu schenken Und trinkend des armen Chajjom zu gedenken.
5 Alos, that Spring should vanish with the Rose I That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should closer The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, Ah, whence, and whither flown again, Who knows I EitzGrold Acb, des Lebens Mai oaht dem ziele, Vorbei sind die Freuden und Spiele I Dieser Vogel der Frohlchkeit Genannt die Jugendzeit. Schwong fort sein Gefieder, Und kommt nicbt wieder I Ich weiss nicht, Wann er gekommen, Und wobin nen weg er genommen. Le Jivre des beaux jours, Mias! finit trop vile. D~jci le doux printemps d'ollegresse nous quitte.
Lorsque je seroi mort, lavez-moi dona du vin, Et lailes mon cercueil tout en par hols de vfgne.