such a good rendition. the animation really helps the reader/listener get the mood and message of the poem. it goes so perfectly with TS Elliot's reading tone. really beautiful, much appreciated.

@PurpleCrush

4 жыл бұрын

Thank you for the wonderful feedback :D

@torosalvajebcn

2 жыл бұрын

and what is the message of the poem?

I love that you were able to visually articulate and interpret this poem. It highlighted details I missed, and it reworked ideas I thought I had down solid. With a poem, all ideas are slippery and impermanent, I should have known. The second you hear what someone else thinks, you start the old mind gears into motion and suddenly the whole thing comes alive with new meanings you were blind to.

I hope you enjoyed making this as much as your audience loved it! Incredible work

What a meaningful animation. English is not my first language and i was struggling to imagine everything that was happening. This is beautiful, like life.

@wasimakramht

2 жыл бұрын

You should use the same tense before and after the connector "AND".

@AgnesKelvedon

15 күн бұрын

​@@wasimakramht Did she ask you an advice about how to use tenses? Keep it to yourself!!! Idt

@wasimakramht

15 күн бұрын

@@AgnesKelvedon And did she ask you to reply me on behalf of her? You also keep your opinion to yourself, Idt!

@AgnesKelvedon

15 күн бұрын

@@wasimakramht No, I don't need somebody asking me to defend people from impolite ones who intrude their perfectly sweet comment. Keep your fragile ego to yourself, nobody needs your poor ass grammar!

I find this video very useful in understanding this poem. Thanks a lot!

"I should have been in pair of ragged claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas" now gets to me. If you've been a nerd like I have been, this poem really tugs at your heart strings when you're old.

@a.l.michael6240

7 жыл бұрын

oh my god, I am so glad that I am not the only one. I specifically highlighted that line in my poetry book. I related to it so well :)

@dalemcnamee2427

6 жыл бұрын

So does the line :"I grow old, I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled"...

@lukes.3957

5 жыл бұрын

"...how should I begin to spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways, and how should I presume..." This line speaks to me when I have to engage in the social convention of trivial small talk. Or when meeting someone for the first time, how should I presume to communicate to them who I actually am?

@andrewtucker94

2 жыл бұрын

And 'do I dare disturb the universe'?

Great stuff, I’m a 31 year old man and already I’m starting to understand prufock more and more, sad stuff.

@PurpleCrush

4 жыл бұрын

I feel yah 😣😔

@danajidisanayaka2811

2 жыл бұрын

31 is not an age, dear

@heraalltheway

2 ай бұрын

in my idea, to understand him is to do nothing with the age. we are all him

Oh that's awesome. Plz Do some more work like this. That was so absorbing

this is amazing . great work , thank you

There was time when i read this poem for exam and there is a time now when i actually coming back to this. somehow depicting the life and making more meaning day by day.😴

@PurpleCrush

2 жыл бұрын

So true, I feel you

Man you don't know what you have did, Thanks now I can understand the whole story ❤️

The animation’s actually so unexpectedly good for a such a small team. Sad to hear of your friend’s passing. Hope you’re all doing well so many years later

@PurpleCrush

9 күн бұрын

Thank you!

The sparkles big bang explosion ruined it, but was overall good.

Brilliant! Thank you so much!

This is so good and really helped me for my American Literature class. Thank you!

His reading was melodic

@Missy-Leigh

3 жыл бұрын

T.S. Eliot was a lyricist. I could sing this poem like a song. I bet someone already has. ♥️

Absolute Masterpiece

This is AMAZINGG! Loved it!

Well done. Impressive. Congratulations.

This was just beautiful...

Amazing work!

Thank you for this amazing video! 👏 I love

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero, Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo. Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question ... Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair - (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”) My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin - (They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”) Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all- The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!) Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ... I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet - and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it towards some overwhelming question, To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”- If one, settling a pillow by her head Should say: “That is not what I meant at all; That is not it, at all.” And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor- And this, and so much more?- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: “That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.” No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old ... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Great work!!

wow what a video! soo good! This poem is one of the best of modern era. one of my fav too!🧡

thank you for visuals

Thank you...its really very helpful. sty blessed :)

Superb illustration ✌

Excellent presentation ❤

Incredible ❤️

love this!!

Good job, very helpful!

Just amazing 🤩

Just amazing 👍😎

Thank you 🙏🙏🙏

This is a dope animation

@PurpleCrush

4 жыл бұрын

Thank you!

I LOOOOOOVE this!

this video made my essay about this hard to understand peom way much easier! thanks alot

@PurpleCrush

3 жыл бұрын

That is great! You are welcome!

Just amazing

well i wan in hunt of this poem for our 5th semester exam and look what i got A MASTERPEICE

Amazing thank you 😊

Worthy to watch feel statisfy to spend my 5 min

Despair . Does the condition of the guy make you feel good? His dress, his health , his head with a round hairless patch ... I feel so sad.

i feel so sad after watching this

this is soooooooooooooooo amazing

Excellent, helped me read it

Need this type videos more..it’s help me for my xm

Love it !!❤❤

@PurpleCrush

3 жыл бұрын

Thanks!

Good intro!

Outstanding

Very good.

Maaan, this is DOPE

It's simply amazing

@PurpleCrush

3 жыл бұрын

Thanks!

This video is really helpful to me

This is very nicely done.

@PurpleCrush

3 жыл бұрын

Thank you!

This video actually made me like the poem lol thanks

Wow... Great

Thank you.

Niceee yaa

Wow nice animation

what did you use to create this video ? I need to create a video also

Nice animation

excellent

This.......... is really good 🙂👍

@PurpleCrush

4 жыл бұрын

Thank you!

@trevland1303

4 жыл бұрын

It really good, because it sound like a story on a radio

this is sweet

❤️

So nice

🙏

Hey, Can I use some part of your video in my KZread channel for explanation purpose?🙏🙏🙏 Please

❤💙💜

Wow

nice work

@PurpleCrush

2 жыл бұрын

Thanks!

Who is doing the voice over work here? Very nice

@atheekriola

3 жыл бұрын

t.s eliot i believe

amazing

@PurpleCrush

3 жыл бұрын

Thank you!

Literally me

Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question ... Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair - (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”) My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin - (They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”) Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all- The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!) Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ... I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet - and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it towards some overwhelming question, To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”- If one, settling a pillow by her head Should say: “That is not what I meant at all; That is not it, at all.” And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor- And this, and so much more?- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: “That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.” No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old ... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

@shahinazmeerriza5377

5 ай бұрын

Thank you so f much 😢❤

can we all just appreciate how big that cat's butt was! lol l overall this was amazingly animated well done

Is the love-song is the song of mermaids that he thinks they won’t sing for him?

Sir i am from india, and u?

Is this Prufrock with the 'unnecessary' bits cut out?

ذكرى طالب انكليزي من جامعة الموصل/ للعلوم الانسانية مرحلة رابعه 🫂🤍

Pls give a english title pls

poems like this are confusing. like, what does he want? why can't he get it?

Where tf are my answers for my schoolwork

Oof - why did you leave so many lines out? Great animation but I’m perplexed.

@PurpleCrush

5 ай бұрын

Since it's for a short animation which already takes time to do, it's an abridged version of the poem.

May i talk to you

Why the gaps? Why miss out verses?

@PurpleCrush

8 жыл бұрын

+Mick Maphari because it takes a lot of time to do an Animation, so we had to do an abridged version

I see what you did here...

Poor him

Nice but there are lines missing

@PurpleCrush

4 ай бұрын

Yes, because as stated in the description, it's an abridged version to make the animation production shorter.

The animation isnt very subtle and explosion ruins it, and there are sections of poem missing. Bits of the animation are very good though.

I like the mood but this is too literal. Have you heard of the term 'Lord Privy Seal'?

Ohh...god....... No ... courage to purpose her beloved 😬 lack of confidence......ohh poor man .....you show the condition of modern man !

😢😢 i dont like this because i don't understand

awful audio!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@daonpula

8 жыл бұрын

it is read by TS Elliot himself. Why is that awful?

boring.

May i talk to you

Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question ... Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair - (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”) My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin - (They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”) Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all- The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!) Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ... I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet - and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it towards some overwhelming question, To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”- If one, settling a pillow by her head Should say: “That is not what I meant at all; That is not it, at all.” And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor- And this, and so much more?- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: “That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.” No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old ... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.