Walt Whitman's "To the Garden, the World," is a celebration of life, love, and the cyclical nature of existence. It explores themes of renewal, resurrection, and the interconnectedness of all living beings.
In the poem, the speaker addresses "Potent mates, daughters, sons," referring to the diverse and vital individuals in the world. The speaker feels a deep connection to the world and its inhabitants, emphasizing the love and life found in their bodies. The phrase "after slumber" suggests a period of rest or dormancy, followed by a reawakening or rebirth.
The poem also touches upon the idea of time and the cycles of life, with the "revolving cycles" bringing about a sense of renewal and maturity. The speaker finds everything in the world beautiful and wondrous, including their own body and the mysterious "quivering fire" within them.
Ultimately, the poem conveys a sense of contentment with the present and a recognition of the eternal connection between the speaker and nature, symbolized by the presence of Eve, who can be seen as a symbol of life and companionship. The poem celebrates the continuous journey of existence and the profound joy found in being a part of the natural world.
It reminds me of Kabir's Gao Gao Ri Dulhani:
To the Garden, the World
- Walt Whitman
To the garden, the world, anew ascending,
Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,
The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,
Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;
The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, have brought me again,
Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous;
My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous;
Existing, I peer and penetrate still,
Content with the present—content with the past,
By my side, or back of me, Eve following,
Or in front, and I following her just the same.
To the garden, the world, anew ascending,
Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,
The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,
Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;
The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, have brought me again,
Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous;
My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous;
Existing, I peer and penetrate still,
Content with the present—content with the past,
By my side, or back of me, Eve following,
Or in front, and I following her just the same.
Singing oneness!
