"Last Time I Saw You You Looked So Much Older..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

Poetryspam time! Yes, I'm doing it again. Shush. I found good ones at the library. ^_^ World Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from Antiquity to Our Time: selections by Soujin.

Star of Evening
Sappho (translated by Paul Roche)

Hesperus
you bring
home everything
which light of day dispersed:
home the sheep herds
home the goat
home the mother's darling

Because this poem? I want to remember it someday to sing to my children, because I know it would be a perfect lullaby. It just needs a pretty tune, and if I can't think one up I'll make erinpuff write one for me. <33

Here Lies Archeanassa
Asclepiades (translated by Frederick Morgan)

Here lies Archeanassa
the courtesan from Colophon
whose old and wrinkled body
was still Love's proud domain.

You lovers who knew her youth
in its sweet and piercing splendour
and plucked those early blooms--
through what a flame you passed!

~~

You Cry, Whine, Peer Strangely at Me
Philodemus (translated by George Economou)

You cry, whine, peer strangely at me.
You're jealous, cling and clutch, kiss too much:
now that's a lover. But when you say, "Here I Am,"
and just lie back, you make me wonder.

~~

Even He Was Abashed
from The Gathasaptasati, collected by King Hala of India in first century AD,
translated by Martha Ann Selby.

Even he was abashed
and I laughed
and held him close
when he went for the knot
of my underclothes
and I'd already untied it.

~~

I Used to Tell You
Ausonius (translated by Kenneth Rexroth)

I used to tell you, "Frances, we grow old.
The years fly away. Don't be so private
With those parts. A chaste maid is an old maid."
Unnoticed by your disdain, old age crept
Close to us. Those days are gone past recall.
And now you come, penitent and crying
Over your old lack of courage, over
Your present lack of beauty. It's all right.
Closed in your arms, we'll share our smashed delights.
It's give and take now. It's what I wanted,
If not what I want.

~~

Epitaph
Anonymous Irish Gaelic, c. 800 AD, translated by Frank O'Connor

"Have you seen Hugh,
The Connacht king in the field?"
"All that we saw
Was his shadow under his shield."

~~

Rondeau
Eustache Deschamps (translated by David Curzon and Jeffrey Fiskin)

Fleas, stink, pigs, mould,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.

Leeks, and cabbage three days old,
Smoked meat, as hard and black as coal;
Fleas, stink, pigs, mould.

Twenty eating from one bowl,
A bitter drink--it's beer, I'm told--
Bad sleep on straw in some filthy hole,
Fleas sting pigs, mould,
The fist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.

~~

First War
Samuel Ha-Nagid (translated by Peter Cole)

First war resembles
a beautiful mouth we
all want to flirt with
and believe--.

Later it's more
a repulsive old whore
whose callers are bitter
and grieve.

~~

To the Virgin Mary and Epitath for Marian Gryphius, His Brother Paul's Little Daughter
Andreas Gryphius (translated by Christopher Benfey)

1.
No room at the crowded inn for you. And why?
The world itself is too cramped for what's inside you.

2.
Born on the run, ambushed by sword and flame,
suckled by smoke, my mother's bitter bargain,
my father's midnight fear, I swam to the light
just as the fire's jaws devoured my country.
I took one look at this world and said good-bye.
I knew in a flash all that it had to offer.
If you count my days, I vanished when I was young.
But I was old if you add the things I suffered.

~~

This is Bad
Gottfried Benn (translated by Harvey Shapiro)

Someone hands you an English thriller,
highly recommended.
You don't read English.

You've worked up a thirst
for something you can't afford.

You have deep insights,
brand new, and they sound
like an academic glossing Holderlin.

You hear the waves at night
ramping against the shore
and you think: that's what waves do.

Worse: you're asked out
when at home you get better coffee,
silence, and you don't expect to be amused.

Awful: not to die in summer
under a bright sky
when the rich dirt
falls easily from the shovel.

~~

Arrival in Hades
Edith Sodergran (translated by David McDuff)

See, here is eternity's shore,
here the stream murmurs by,
and death plays in the bushes
his same monotonous melody.

Death, why were you silent?
We have come a long way
and are hungry to hear,
we have never had a nurse
who could sing like you.

~~

The first of Two Pantuns
Anonymous Malay poet, c. 1900, translated by R.J. Wilkinson and R.O. Winstedt

1.
They wear
bangles on their arms
I wear
bracelets on my ankles.
They say
mustn't do that!
I do
as I damn well please.

~~

Bitter Wood
Martin Carver

Here be dragons, and bitter
cups made of wood; and the hooves
of horses where they should not
sound. Yet on the roofs of houses
walk the carpenters, as once did
cartographers on the spoil
of splendid maps. Here is where
I am, in a great geometry, between
a raft of ants and the green sight
of the freedom of a tree, made
of that same bitter wood.

~~

A Freedom Song
Marjorie Oludhe Macgoye

Atieno washes dishes,
Atieno plucks the chicken,
Atieno gets up early,
Beds her sacks down in the kitchen,
Atieno eight years old,
Atieno yo.

Since she is my sister's child
Atieno needs no pay,
While she works my wife can sit
Sewing every sunny day:
With her earnings I support
Atieno yo.

Atieno's sly and jealous,
Bad example to the kids
Since she minds them, like a schoolgirl
Wants their dresses, shoes and beads,
Atieno ten years old,
Atieno yo.

Now my wife has gone to study
Atieno is less free.
Don't I keep her, school my own ones,
Pay the party, union fee,
All for progress: aren't you grateful,
Atieno yo?

Visitors need much attention,
All the more when I work night.
That girl spends too long at market,
Who will teach her what is right?
Atieno is rising fourteen,
Atieno yo.

Atieno's had a baby
So we know that she is bad.
Fifty fifty it may live
And repeat the life she had
Ending in post-partum bleeding,
Atieno yo.

Atieno's soon replaced.
Meat and sugar more than all
She ate in such a narrow life
Were lavished on her funeral.
Atieno's gone to glory,
Atieno yo.

~~

The Kenless Strand
Synsey Goodsir Smith

My sails by tempest riven
The sea a race
Whaur suld be lown and lither
Aa's dispeace.

Dispeace o hairt that visions
Reefs it downa ride,
Dispeace o mind in rapids
Nane can guide:

And aye a face afore me
And anither face,
Ane luve's ancient tragedy
And ane its peace.

Here, on luve's fludetide I run
There, the unkent strand
Abune, the seamaws' tireless grief
Ayont, nae hyne, nae end.

Comments

[gileonnen.livejournal.com]

I loved 'Even He Was Abashed'--just adorable, hilarious, real-feeling; Hugh's epitaph was lovely, as well, if subtly chastening. For some reason, though, 'The first of Two Pantuns' and 'Bitter Wood' both touched something in me--thank you for sharing. ^____^

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

!! I picked that one out for you! ^____^ 'Even He Was Abashed'. I read it and thought 'oo, type that one up for Gil', and you mentioned it! Wiiin. *glees softly* And I'm very glad those two were good for you. <333 I love typing up poetry for exactly this reason. It's good to share.

(I've actually had the first of Two Pantuns for two years now; I copied it out the first time I read this book and kept it in my room. I didn't have it bookmarked to type up, but I suddenly thought of it and decided I would.)

[gileonnen.livejournal.com]

It kind of makes me sad, that you automatically associate me with stripping and associated activities. ^_^;;;;;;;;

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Yes, well, it's the image you project. :P

[gileonnen.livejournal.com]

... okay, now I'm a little ill.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Dear internets:

convey emotions better.

Love, Soujin

[gileonnen.livejournal.com]

*hugsonto* It's okay. It's just sparked some long-needed soul-searching. So I'm off to do that in my journal. I am in no way upset with you, lady. <333

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

I was kidding.

I thought of you because of the gentle real-life humour that you mentioned, and because of India. I always think of you when I think of India.

[gileonnen.livejournal.com]

I know--but it relates to an image that other people have perceived of me for some time. One of my friends once referred to me as "a kind of whorish nun." So it's something I've been avoiding thinking about, but needing to think about.

*smile* That is very sweet of you, though.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

...Well, uh, I have no idea where that opinion is coming from, frankly. It doesn't relate to the way I perceive you at all. Wtf.

[gileonnen.livejournal.com]

*laughs* Doesn't relate to how I perceive myself, either--but it goes into the journal, along with everything else. (Do you realize, I hardly ever talk about my personal psychology any longer, except to vent about PMS blow-ups?)

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Okay, but please don't take it too much to heart, because it doesn't feel accurate to me in the slightest and I therefore intend to stand against it. Just the same as you would if someone told me I was an obnoxious loudmouth and I started worrying about whether it was true. (depends on whether or not that's healthy for you, really.)

[gileonnen.livejournal.com]

I don't, really. He was trying so hard to sexualize my discourse, I would almost expect him to term me something like that--but nonetheless. (Oh, I'm not saying that's bad--I'm just saying it's a trend.)

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

akdfajklfjaslkfjas, madam. AKfjalksfja. (<3 Fair enough.)

[tinyammmy]

They were all lovely, but "I Used to Tell You" is just achingly bittersweet. And "This is Bad" just hit a chord for me right now. Thank you for sharing.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

I did so much want someone to comment on that one. It made me wibble badly. <33333 Absolutely.

[nrtf.livejournal.com]

Ah, 'The Kenless Strand' is beautifulness. Like 'The Dover Coast' plus 'Each in His Own Tongue'. Which could never be a bad idea.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

^___^ I have never read those two.

[nrtf.livejournal.com]

They are little wonderfuls from 'The Favourite Poems of the American People'. I should read more modern books that people might empathise with my squeefulness, I know.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Oh, no, no! But tell me who compiled it, I'd like to look for them.

[nrtf.livejournal.com]

Hazel Felleman compiled it; it was published by Doubleday & Co. of Garden City, New York in 1936 (first, and probably only, edition.) It has a good selection, but, strangely, no Sassoon.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Ooo. Thank you; I will look at teh library. --Awww! That's no good. XD

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

^__^ bwee, old poetry. do you know this one?

Adonis In The Underworld
Praxilla (translated by Sherod Santos)

Of all the pleasures in the upper world,
what I miss most is sunlight,
after that the stars, a full moon, summer's
late season harvest of fruits,
cucumber, apple, pomengranate, pear.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Ooooo. ♥