The apotheosis of English poetry

Post #94,807 by Arkadiy 4/7/03 12:47:06 PM Reply	The apotheosis of English poetry I always thought that it's just misnamed pretty prose. Guess I was right. -- It made Ketchup! Sweet Ketchup! Put it on a hot dog, put it on a burger, Put it on your sister and she'll holler blody murder! Sweet Ketchup. --Tom Paxton.
Post #95,224 by deSitter 4/8/03 10:26:04 PM 4/10/03 8:58:49 AM Reply	Don't know if this is snobbery or sarcasm Snobbery is probably justified for people from your home part of the world. I think of Chekov and Dostoyevsky, but then again your writers are so emotional without form - we have ee cummings who is metaphysical without vagueness. And TS Eliot, and Wallace Stevens. THE PLANET ON THE TABLE Ariel was glad he had written his poems. They were of a remembered time Or of something seen that he liked. Other makings of the sun Were waste and welter And the ripe shrub writhed. His self and the sun were one And his poems, although makings of his self, Were no less makings of the sun. It was not important that they survive. What mattered was that they should bear Some lineament or character, Some affluence, if only half-perceived, In the poverty of their words, Of the planet of which they were part. Wallace Stevens -drl Though my feet aren't on the ground, I've been standing on the sound Of some open hearted people, going down. Edited by deSitter April 10, 2003, 08:58:49 AM EDT Expand All History
Post #95,569 by Arkadiy 4/9/03 9:22:41 PM Reply	Rhyme - nonexisting Rhythm - barely there. It's beautiful prose. Allmost too beautiful to still be called that name. But not poetry. (Funny how you mention Chechov and Dostoevsky WRT poetry: both wrote prose exclusively). Now, let's see how this goes over: Transliteration: Ya Vas lubil. Lubov' escho, byt' moget, V groodi moyei ugasla ne sovsem. No pust' ona Vas bol'she ne trevog(e)it. Ya ne hochoo pechalit' Vas nichem. Ya Vas liubil - bezmolvno, beznadeg(e)no. To radostiu, to revnostiu tomim. Ya Vas lubil tak iskrenno, tak neg(e)no, Kak daiy Vam Bog liubimoiy byt' drugim. Notes on transliteration: bold font denotes emphasis (for multy-sillable words). g(e) sounds like the end of "dodge" iu sounds like "you" iy sounds like "y" in "day" (drop "a") yei - sounds like "ey" in "hey!" ya - sounds like "ya" in "yackety-yack" ' means softening of consonant, "t" as in "teeth" instead of "t" as in "get" o, i, e are always pronounced the way they are pronounced when followed by a consonant in a sillable, never the way they're pronounced in the alphabet or before "r". a is pronounced like "a" in "pappas" :) In other cases, the words are read according to English rules (or so I hope). If you see something that breaks rhythm or rhyme, ask - it's probably my error or failure to transliterate properly. Translation: I loved you. The love, it may just happen, Have not completely died in my breast yet. But let it not alarm you any more. I do not want to upset you. Not at all. I loved you wordlessly, hopelessly Enduring joy and jealousy in turn. I loved you as tenderly, as truly As, God grant, someone else will love you. In the case I've utterly failed: this is a fully rhymed yambic(?) poetry. It's also exremely beautiful prose. The secret of real poetry is to acomplish both. Just good prose should not be called poetry. Note that this is the very first "real" Russian poet, Pushkin, somewhere in 1820s or 30s (some say that Derg(e)avin and/or G(e)ookovskiy hold that title. May be). It got more complex since then. Not all rhymes are so obvious now. Not all rythms so exactly correct. But it's still there. I am posting Pushkin from memory. If you see what I mean in this post, I'll dig up a book of Akhmatova verses, or even Brodsky. -- It made Ketchup! Sweet Ketchup! Put it on a hot dog, put it on a burger, Put it on your sister and she'll holler blody murder! Sweet Ketchup. --Tom Paxton.
Post #95,580 by rcareaga 4/9/03 10:15:38 PM Reply	Re: Rhyme - nonexisting You are approaching this, if I understand your intent here correctly, from a culture and language more closely integrated with its poetic tradition (we could perhaps also speak here of the relation modern German has to Luther's prose, or of Arabic to the Koran) than Americlish is to its middle-distance roots in Shakespeare or the King James Bible. I can't agree with you that Wallace Stevens isn't poetry: the cadences may not be there, but behind that spare "prose" there lies a sensibility that transcends categories. Perhaps you know one of his most famous works?-- Of Mere Being The palm at the end of the mind, Beyond the last thought, rises In the bronze decor, A gold-feathered bird Sings in the palm, without human meaning, Without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason That makes us happy or unhappy. The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down. I once had the privilege to hear Brodsky conduct a reading in Santa Cruz CA just about thirty years ago. He was newly exiled; not yet comfortable enough with English to read the translations (which were recited, not very well, by a junior faculty member) himself, so the evening consisted of Brodsky reading--chanting, really--a poem, alternating with the undistinguished delivery of the English version. I was young and wild and woolly in those days, and showed up for the event blazing under the influence of an exotic alkaloid with my (native Russian-speaking) sweetheart Veronica in tow. We were entranced, she by the sheer power of the verse and I by the limp translations augmented by the power of the alkaloid, which went a long way toward making up for the deficiencies in the delivery. I remember being deeply moved (I was twenty then), the verses imparting a kind of despair: "I will slit my wrists just as soon as I get back to my room," I recall thinking, being startled when my dear Veronica, as we left the reading, clutched my arm and whispered "For the first time in my life I actually thought of killing myself," from which I concluded that it was the poetry and not the acid. cordially, "Die Welt ist alles, was der Fall ist."
Post #95,594 by Arkadiy 4/9/03 10:53:29 PM Reply	"Transcends cathegories" Indeed. It's way beyond mere prose. It's metaphoric, philosophical, mystic, even. But still. Not. Poetry. (in my eyes) This comes much closer to my definition of poetry: The Tiger William Blake Tiger, tiger, burning bright, In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? When thy heart began to beat, What dread hand forged thy dread feet? What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dared its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears And watered heaven with their tears, Did He smile his work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright, In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? It's not without its faults. May be too straightforward. But the idea is there. Also, the man whom Brodsky loved, may be, more than any other English poet: Robert Frost (1874\ufffd1963). Fire and Ice SOME say the world will end in fire,\t Some say in ice.\t From what I\ufffdve tasted of desire\t I hold with those who favor fire.\t But if it had to perish twice,\t 5 I think I know enough of hate\t To know that for destruction ice\t Is also great\t And would suffice.\t -- It made Ketchup! Sweet Ketchup! Put it on a hot dog, put it on a burger, Put it on your sister and she'll holler blody murder! Sweet Ketchup. --Tom Paxton.
Post #95,600 by rcareaga 4/9/03 11:12:22 PM Reply	Brodsky, Blake At just around the same time I attended the Brodsky reading I scored one of my greatest undergraduate triumphs, in a class on a subject a bit hard to explain today, but which seemed to make perfect sense in that era: the central text was Huezinga's Homo Ludens, but the syllabus extended all over the map. Anyway--evening class, brooding young Associate Professor stalking catlike back and forth, no doubt attempting to impress that class of undergraduates some still called "coeds": "Fearful symmetry," he hissed. "Fearful symmetry? Somebody tell me what Blake meant, what's so fearful about symmetry?" "Waal," I drawled insolently, bluffing, since the young prof had finished up by pointing at me in our small class, "I personally wouldn't care to walk through a symmetry at midnight." "Exactly! he roared. "Exactly!" I was damned pleased with myself and savor the memory, as you see, three decades later. cordially. "Die Welt ist alles, was der Fall ist."
Post #95,647 by Ashton 4/10/03 4:41:20 AM Reply	Thanks - pronunciation hints. Yevtushenko story (I think it was he) This story I read maybe 20 yrs ago.. in -?- a US pub I don't recall. I think I recall it verbatim - it's hard to forget. Yevtushenko had arrived at a hall to read some recently published poetry to a large assemblage. He was old then, a bit awkward and needed his glasses. He read a page or so and then accidentally knocked the papers off the podium.. As he bent down and slowly tried to gather the pages .. a voice in the audience recited the next line. Then another person the following line .. on it went, as other voices recited in unison. It was said that he had some trouble with his eyes, just then For me it was the perfect illustration of the importance of poetry in Russia and the other -SSRs, and also indicative of the general literacy. Quite different here, alas - though no one could miss the wonderfulness of this event.. for anyone there or simply, hearing of it. Could there ever be a larger tribute to a poet? They had memorized his work; his quite recent work! Still makes goose bumps, just to recall it. (I trust it must be true; no one could be so crass as to invent it. Except Billy, and he wouldn't know anything about the subject.) PS: for Arkadiy I have a 7" audio tape of Shostakovich' 10th Symphony, composer conducting (maybe in lieu of Kyril Kondrashin?) - recorded in fact by the composer's son, on a Telefunken prof. machine. Probably thus the Moscow Symphony O. It is with the original words to the poem Babii Yar, prior to censorship - which story I heard only vaguely. It was smuggled out in early '60s, by a visiting US physicist. Since we worked in the same place and I was doing audio things - I made a copy for him, with understanding I was to make no others (though I made it almost-clear I would keep one, in any event). I haven't heard it in years; haven't even a R-to-R machine around currently - though I need to acquire one anon, to hear some of my own stuff and get things moved over to another medium. I'd think this of historical interest to someone or group. Any ideas? It was, at the time a powerful indictment of the regime; the admonition about no copies proliferating - was for protection of all concerned. I took that to be real and not hyperbole. It was a privilege to hear the first audition of this work in the US - ever! and on a super-system with KLH-9 electrostatic speakers, etc. AFAIK, the original I used was the only copy of the performance made; cannot be sure if sometime another was made, however - but with Shostakovich & son present? I don't know if Yevtushenko was also there for the performance. Ashton
Post #95,671 by deSitter 4/10/03 9:01:47 AM Reply	Yevtushenko - outstanding -drl (Dm - 2Am)(Rmn + 1/2gmn R + 1/2Fmn) = 0
Post #95,742 by rcareaga 4/10/03 11:53:55 AM Reply	Yevtushenko -- old? Ash, Ash, if you read the story twenty years ago, even if the event so movingly narrated had occurred the previous week, Yevtushenko would have been not more than fifty. Of course...the men of the USSR weren't notable for longevity then (and they peg out sooner in the successor states), prolonged hard drinking will age a body, and even if Y had been vigorous at fifty his public would have remembered the brash twentysomething who first came to prominence during the Thaw. Anyway. A charming story. My god, even the philistines who ran the country then paid poetry the respect of fearing it. I have a friend whom I've known since shortly after she moved to SF from Russia with her two sons (now 17 and 20) five years ago. It has been a little saddening to watch the memes of American trash-pop move in on the boys in a kind of Gresham's Law of culture. I hope that they've managed at least to partition the disk, and leave something Russian and unsullied there... re Shostakovich: If you want to move the reel-to-reel to a more durable medium (i.e., audio CD), try cdbbq.com, a one-man operation out of Arizona--I've dealt with him several times; he's conscientious, trustworthy and technically proficient. Also: Do you know Shostakovich's Op. 87, "Twenty-four Preludes and Fugues"? Magnificent stuff, some of it the way you'd imagine God to sound like thinking aloud if He happened to be in a particularly pensive mood (and who wouldn't be, this past century, from that vantage?). cordially, "Die Welt ist alles, was der Fall ist."
Post #96,392 by Ashton 4/13/03 5:18:39 PM 4/13/03 6:49:27 PM Reply	Re: Yevtushenko -- old? Might be <20 yrs, as I ponder where I might have found the story. Might even have been another poet ;-) Hell maybe even Pasternak, but then.. Thanks for R-R tip. Silly that.. I was a Crown, Revox dealer! in the bye and bye. Moved on; peddled my Ampex alignment tapes, etc. Now have to scrounge. Heh - think of those owners of superb Marantz equipment who M$-"up"graded to... Germanium transistors! (proving their ears were not golden but leaden.. in the first Place.) And so it goes, Ashton Edit PS: Have heard the Preludes And Fugues; can't say I 'know' it, don't own a copy. Hmmm - there's a Gliere Concerto for Coloratura & Orchestra - must choose the Joan Sutherland version - as may also qualify for transcendence.. Voice as pure instrument, wordless. {sometimes.. such a relief, that} (as would several JS qualify, of course itgoeswithoutayingsoIwon't) As to this last century.. Honegger Christmas Cantata! Dissonance as perfect metaphor: It begins with >12-tone-like er dissonance; since it's a Xian-sorta metaphor.. as The Light begins to dawn on [us - presumably].. harmony sneaks in and grows into paeans. The first clear chord is a falling (fifth?) with a 'wondering?' rising and tentative, in the 4th-or-so bar and then a resolution. One caveat - for fully appreciating Where We Are At Today [?] record this on a tape; reverse-spool: and play it backwards. Devolution made manifest by the omnipotent power of music to teach... (those with ears not yet deafened by electric guitars at 110 dBm.) Ashton Critic Watchin replay of Headin fer the Last Roundup, played by a clown in paleface, with his fly open to reveal - white powder. Edited by Ashton April 13, 2003, 06:49:27 PM EDT Expand All History
Post #96,691 by Arkadiy 4/15/03 2:26:14 PM Reply	Don't know _who_ would be interested but someone should better be. I'll try some Russian Googling later -- It made Ketchup! Sweet Ketchup! Put it on a hot dog, put it on a burger, Put it on your sister and she'll holler blody murder! Sweet Ketchup. --Tom Paxton.
Post #95,585 by boxley 4/9/03 10:22:38 PM Reply	so haiku is not poetry? Songs of solomon and david not poetic? Think we have the word rhymes and poems mixed up. In rhymes the cadence must match preceding lines in a pattern, In poetry the cadence must match the cadence. thanx, bill will work for cash and other incentives [link\|http://home.tampabay.rr.com/boxley/resume/Resume.html\|skill set] questions, help? [link\|mailto:pappas@catholic.org\|email pappas at catholic.org] Since corporations are the equivelent of human but they have no "concience" they are by definition sociopaths
Post #95,592 by Arkadiy 4/9/03 10:42:45 PM 4/9/03 10:54:26 PM Reply	Haiku has very, very strict rhythm If it's one sillable off, it's not haiku. I don't know about rhymes, they don't survibe translation well. DOn't know about David and Solomon. I am trying to learn Hebrew alphaet at the moment (not for reasons of poetry :) ), will report when I can read (sound) them in the original. -- It made Ketchup! Sweet Ketchup! Put it on a hot dog, put it on a burger, Put it on your sister and she'll holler blody murder! Sweet Ketchup. --Tom Paxton. Edited by Arkadiy April 9, 2003, 10:54:26 PM EDT Expand All History
Post #95,602 by boxley 4/9/03 11:18:09 PM Reply	sheesh only a Russian :-) I am not planning on living in Israel anytime soon so am putting off learning hebrew. Can pick it out of a crowd enough to embarrass myself for asking Palestinians if they are Israelis :-) Most of the sounds are hork a lugey(an expression by certain comedians) and mor constanents than vowels. As a Russian who has learned english at your level, hebrew should be a snap. thanx, bill will work for cash and other incentives [link\|http://home.tampabay.rr.com/boxley/resume/Resume.html\|skill set] questions, help? [link\|mailto:pappas@catholic.org\|email pappas at catholic.org] Since corporations are the equivelent of human but they have no "concience" they are by definition sociopaths
Post #95,770 by Arkadiy 4/10/03 1:12:49 PM Reply	Being a Rusian jew might be some help :<) -- It made Ketchup! Sweet Ketchup! Put it on a hot dog, put it on a burger, Put it on your sister and she'll holler blody murder! Sweet Ketchup. --Tom Paxton.
Post #95,607 by boxley 4/9/03 11:31:28 PM Reply	haiku the explanation (of which i am probably way off on is seventeen related words in 5 lines no more no less) I observe the sky it matches the blue of my drink entrancing me I snore loadly farting thank you very much bill will work for cash and other incentives [link\|http://home.tampabay.rr.com/boxley/resume/Resume.html\|skill set] questions, help? [link\|mailto:pappas@catholic.org\|email pappas at catholic.org] Since corporations are the equivelent of human but they have no "concience" they are by definition sociopaths
Post #95,613 by inthane-chan 4/9/03 11:40:59 PM Reply	Haiku is 5-7-5. That's something else. ;) When fresh snow does fall A girlfriend with a smile cannot be trusted Damnit, now I gotta go find the original. Then there's Basho: Writing crap about Freshly falling snow does not make good poetry After 9/11, Bush made two statements: 1. "Terrorists hate America because America is a land of freedom and opportunity." 2. "We intend to attack the root causes of terrorism." Sounds like everything is going according to plan.
Post #95,617 by boxley 4/9/03 11:53:55 PM Reply	thats 5 5 3? will work for cash and other incentives [link\|http://home.tampabay.rr.com/boxley/resume/Resume.html\|skill set] questions, help? [link\|mailto:pappas@catholic.org\|email pappas at catholic.org] Since corporations are the equivelent of human but they have no "concience" they are by definition sociopaths
Post #95,618 by rcareaga 4/9/03 11:56:56 PM Reply	Re: thats 5 5 3? Frail and lonely moth Seeking warmth of candle's flame Goddamn idiot. --Saul Steinberg, ca. 1963 "Die Welt ist alles, was der Fall ist."
Post #95,626 by inthane-chan 4/10/03 12:12:40 AM Reply	LMAO! Good one. Box, 5-7-5 refers to the number of syllables, not words. After 9/11, Bush made two statements: 1. "Terrorists hate America because America is a land of freedom and opportunity." 2. "We intend to attack the root causes of terrorism." Sounds like everything is going according to plan.
Post #95,689 by boxley 4/10/03 10:13:09 AM Reply	okay 5,7,5 the wind is blowing tree tops whipping swirling sky wilding rain crying better? thanx, bill will work for cash and other incentives [link\|http://home.tampabay.rr.com/boxley/resume/Resume.html\|skill set] questions, help? [link\|mailto:pappas@catholic.org\|email pappas at catholic.org] Since corporations are the equivelent of human but they have no "concience" they are by definition sociopaths
Post #95,734 by inthane-chan 4/10/03 11:03:13 AM Reply	Yup. After 9/11, Bush made two statements: 1. "Terrorists hate America because America is a land of freedom and opportunity." 2. "We intend to attack the root causes of terrorism." Sounds like everything is going according to plan.
Post #95,621 by a6l6e6x 4/10/03 12:02:00 AM Reply	Windows haiku. Chaos reigns within. Reflect, repent, and reboot. Order shall return. Windows NT crashed. I am the Blue Screen of Death. No one hears your screams. Alex Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. -- Blaise Pascal (1623-1662)
Post #95,692 by boxley 4/10/03 10:14:34 AM Reply	didnt Ben have a haiku generator? will work for cash and other incentives [link\|http://home.tampabay.rr.com/boxley/resume/Resume.html\|skill set] questions, help? [link\|mailto:pappas@catholic.org\|email pappas at catholic.org] Since corporations are the equivelent of human but they have no "concience" they are by definition sociopaths
Post #95,604 by a6l6e6x 4/9/03 11:21:14 PM Reply	Funny you should mention Pushkin. TO THE FOUNTAIN OF BAKHCHISARAI Two roses do I bring to thee, O fount of love that 'fore me dances. Thy tears poetic comfort me, Thy tender voice my soul entrances. Thou greetest me as I draw near, My face with silvered dew drops spraying. Flow, flow, O fount, and, ceaseless playing, Speak, speak thy story in my ear. O fount of love, O fount of sadness, From thy stone lips long tales I heard Of far-off parts, of woe and gladness, But of Maria ne'er a word... Like poor and long forgot Zarema, Is she, the harem's pallid sun, Formed of the mists of idle dreaming And of the stuff of visions spun? The spirit's dim and vague ideal Drawn by the hand of phantasy, Is she a thing remote, unreal, A phantom that must cease to be?.. 1824 The fountain is in the town were I was born. In Russian (if you are set up for it): ФОНТАНУ БАХЧИСАРАЙСКОГО ДВОРЦА Фонтан любви, фонтан живой! Принес я в дар тебе две розы. Люблю немолчный говор твой И поэтические слезы. Твоя серебряная пыль Меня кропит росою хладной: Ах, лейся, лейся, ключ отрадный! Журчи, журчи свою мне быль... Фонтан любви, фонтан печальный! И я твой мрамор вопрошал: Хвалу стране прочел я дальней; Но о Марии ты молчал... Светило бледное гарема! И здесь ужель забвенно ты? Или Мария и Зарема Одни счастливые мечты? Иль только сон воображенья В пустынной мгле нарисовал Свои минутные виденья, Души неясный идеал? 1824 Not that I can understand all the words, it's interesting how the translation allows words and lines to be moved about. Alex Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. -- Blaise Pascal (1623-1662)
Post #95,642 by Ashton 4/10/03 3:46:38 AM Reply	Hmmm - Moz 1.2.1 renders the Cyrillic fine With a series like, вою мн (Which preview somehow translates = as you see) What I see in source is (w/o the [] boxes) [&][#]1074;[&][#]1086 ... etc. In orange, yet! with ISO-8859-1 (I just noticed the beaucoup info in "Page Info") ..when I think of the assemblage of fonts needed for my multi-lingual friend to do Cyrillic in Word6 / Doze 3.11 ~ 10 years ago; how many we had to reject, etc. Now it's all taken for granted. Spaceba, I.
Post #95,775 by Arkadiy 4/10/03 1:22:27 PM Reply	Very good translation! Thank you for finding it (or may be writing it?). -- It made Ketchup! Sweet Ketchup! Put it on a hot dog, put it on a burger, Put it on your sister and she'll holler blody murder! Sweet Ketchup. --Tom Paxton.
Post #95,828 by a6l6e6x 4/10/03 3:14:31 PM Reply	I found it on a Russian site. [link\|http://www.fplib.ru/literature/19century/pushkin.html(opt,mozilla,mac,english,,new)\|Pushkin]. Alex Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. -- Blaise Pascal (1623-1662)

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