Murder In The Cathedral PDF By T.S. Eliot

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Let us stand near the cathedral. Let us wait. Are we attracted to danger? Is it the wisdom of security that draws our feet to the church?

What danger can there be to us poor, poor women of Canterbury? What tribulation are we not already familiar with?

There is no danger to us, and there is no security in the cathedral. Some foreshadowing of an act, which our eyes are compelled to see, has compelled our steps to go towards the cathedral.

We are forced to testify.

As golden October turned to somber November the apples were gathered and stored, and the land became brown pointy points of death in a waste of water and mud.

New Year waits, breathes, waits, whispers in the dark.

While the laborer kicks a dirty shoe and extends his hand towards the fire.

New year is waiting, destiny is waiting to come.

Who raised his hand to the fire and remembered the saints at All Hallows, the martyrs and the waiting saints?

And who will deny his master by raising his hand towards the fire, who will warm himself in the fire, and who will deny his master?

Seven years and summer is over Seven years have passed since the archbishop left us, he who was always kind to his people.

But it would not be right that he should come back.

The king rules or the baron rules; We have suffered various persecutions, but mostly we are left to our own devices, and we are satisfied if we are left alone.

We try to keep our homes in order; The merchant, shy and cautious, tries to amass a little fortune, and the laborer bows before his piece of clay, the color of clay, his own color.

Giving priority to passing without being seen.

Now I fear disturbances in the calm seasons: winter will bring death from the sea, destructive spring will knock at our door.

Roots and shoots will eat up our eyes and our ears, the destructive heat will burn the bottoms of our streams and the poor will await another disastrous October.

Like the layers of an onion, we’re lost

In a final fear that no one understands. Hey Thomas Archbishop,

O Thomas our God, leave us and leave us in the humble and tarnished frame of our existence, leave us; don’t ask us

Destruction at home, destruction at the archbishop, destruction at the world.

Archbishop, unconcerned and unconcerned about your fate, concerned on all sides, do you realize what you’re asking, do you realize what it means

For little people bound in the framework of fate, little people who live among little things.

The strain on the brains of those little people who stand for the destruction of the home, the destruction of their master, the destruction of the world?

O Thomas, archbishop, leave us, leave us, leave sad Dover, and sail to France. Our Archbishop Thomas is still our Archbishop in France as well.

Thomas Archbishop, set white sails between the gray sky and the bitter sea, leave us, leave us for France.

second priest

What a way to talk at a time like this!

You are a stupid, impudent and talkative woman.

Don’t you know that the good archbishop is likely to appear at any moment?

Crowds will be cheering in the streets,

AuthorT.S. Eliot
PDF Size3.0 MB


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