Category Archives: Poetry

Ode VIII Quiet Night by Fray Luis de León

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Fray Luis de León was a poet, an Augustinian friar, an academic and a theologian who lived during the Spanish Golden age.  This poem was one of 23 original poems composed by him during his lifetime; he also translated the Book of Job and the Song of Songs into Spanish from the Latin Vulgate, a forbidden act which landed him in prison.

Sadly the text of this poem is too long to include and I can’t find any online sources but it is included in the book The Golden Age ~ Poems of the Spanish Renaissance.  Here is an except:

   

Source Wikipedia

When I contemplate the heavens
embellished and adorned with countless lights,
then look down at the earth
enveloped in dark night
and buried deep in oblivion and sleep,
     the love and sorrow I feel
awaken in my breast an ardent longing;
my eyes, become like fountains,
let flow abundant streams,
and at last, in woeful tones, my voice does call:
     “Oh, home of so much grandeur,
temple of light, of clarity, of beauty:
my soul was born for your heights,
yet what immense misfortune
keeps it in this vile prison, in the dark?
     “What mortal misperception
moves my senses so far away from truth
that, leaving your sacred good,
forgetting they wander, lost,
following vain shadows, illusions of good?
      “Man is given over
wholly to sleep, not caring for his fate,
while heaven, with silent steps,
keeps turning round, keeps turning,
stealing from him the hours of his life.
      “Oh moral men, awake!
Open your eyes and see the harm you do.
Can your immortal souls, 
created for such great good,
survive on shadows and on mere deceit?

de Leon begins with the poet envisaging heaven from his place on earth, yet he quickly reverses the observation by viewing earth from the vantage point of heaven.  From the first viewpoint, heaven looks grand and beautiful but when his perspective is reversed, the earth is seen as a place of devastation and turmoil, as man forgets the purpose of his creation and allows precious time to be stolen from him.  The poet uses an apostrophe to awaken his fellow man the plight of his dying soul and encourages his amelioration.  There is a wonderful weaving of the celestial planets into heaven’s fabric, personifying their glory and importance, while communicating divine beauty.

Such a lovely poem and as a bonus, an opportunity to practice my Spanish!

Deal Me In Challenge #8 – Seven of Diamonds

Song II: The Dark Night by San Juan de la Cruz

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St. John of the Cross (1656)
Francisco de Zurbarán
source Wikipedia

This poem is my fifth read for my Deal Me In Challenge 2015.

Canción II: La Noche Oscura

     Canciones
      De el alma que se goza de haber llegado
          Al alto estado de la perfección, que
          Es la union con Dios, por el camino
          De la negación espiritual.
1. En una noche escura,
con ansias, en amores inflamada,
¡o dichosa ventura!,
salí sin ser notada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada:
2. a escuras y segura
por la secreta escala, disfrazada,
 ¡o dichosa ventura!,
a escuras y en celada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada;
3. en la noche dichosa,
en secreto, que nadie me veía,
 ni yo miraba cosa,
sin otra luz y guía
sino la que en el corazón ardía.
4. Aquésta me guïaba
más cierto que la luz del mediodía,
a donde me esperaba
quien yo bien me sabía,
en parte donde nadie parecía.
5. ¡O noche que guiaste!,
¡o noche, amable más que el alborada!,
 ¡o noche que juntaste
Amado con amada,
amada en el amado transformada!
6. En mi pecho florido,
que entero para él solo se guardaba,
allí quedó dormido,
y yo le regalaba;
y el ventalle de cedros aire daba.
7. El aire de la almena,
quando yo sus cabellos esparcía,
con su mano serena
en mi cuello hería,
y todos mis sentidos suspendía.
8. Quedéme y olvidéme,
el rostro recliné sobre el amado;
cesó todo y dejéme,
dejando mi cuidado
entre las azucenas olvidado.


Song II: The Dark Night
     Songs
      Of the soul that rejoices at having reached
         The high state of perfection, which
          Is the union with God, by means of the path
          Of spiritual denial of self
1.  On a dark night, deep and black,
When I, on fire with the passions of love
—- what great good fortune was mine! —
slipped out, hidden, unseen,
when my sleeping house was silent and still;
2. and protected in the dark,
concealed by the quiet, secret staircase
—- what great good fortune was mine! —
in the ebon dark, well-hidden
when my sleeping house was silent and still;
3. and on the fortunate night,
in secret, when no one’s eyes could see me,
I saw nothing around me
And had no light or guide
But the one that was blazing in my heart.
4. This was the fire that led me,
more clear and certain than the light of noon,
to where he waited for me
— I knew who he was, oh I knew —
there where no one was seen, no one appeared.
5. O dark night who guided me!
O night, kinder by far than any dawn!
O night, you who have joined
lover with beloved,
beloved into lover here transformed!
6. On my flowering bosom,
meant only for him, kept for him alone,
he rested his head to sleep,
and I with love caressed him,
and the swaying cedars sent a breeze for him.
7. The wind from the battlements
when I loosed his hair and smoothed it, unbound,
with serene and tranquil hand,
struck my neck, pierced and wounded it,
dimming and suspending all my senses.
8. I stayed there, self forgotten,
lowered my face, leaning over my lover,
all things ceased, self abandoned,
abandoning all care
that lies, forgotten, there among the lilies.

I found this poem in the book The Golden Age: Poems of the Spanish Renaissance to which Amanda of Simpler Pastimes kindly introduced me.  It was a “close your eyes and point” choice, yet it has turned out to be quite a fascinating poem.

St. John of the Cross was a disciple of St. Teresa of Ávila, whose biography I had recently read.  He fought to reform the Spanish Carmelites and spent a number of years in prison where he compposed the Cántico espiritual, or Spiritual Canticle, without any writing tools, having to rely solely on his memory.  
Song II: The Dark Night is part of St. John’s greater work, The Dark Night of the Soul, chronicling the spiritual journey of the soul and the stages of love that it must pass through to become more like God.  Taken out of context, this poem loses some meaning but the beauty of the words and the impact is spiritual by themselves.  Based on the biblical book, Songs of Songs, the sensual imagery St. John uses for the union of the soul and God is a stepping outside of religious tradition.  Mystic and beautiful, the poem marries the natural to the supernatural, to exemplify harmony with God.
Deal Me In Challenge #5 – Jack of Diamonds

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

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A Red, Red Rose
courtesy of Scott Branson (Flickr)
Creative Commons

A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns 
(1794)
My love is like a red, red rose
   That’s newly sprung in June :
My love is like the melody
   That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
   So deep in love am I :
And I will love thee still, my dear,
   Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
   And the rocks melt wi’ the sun :
And I will love thee still, my dear,
   While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love,
   And fare thee weel a while !
And I will come again, my love,
   Thou’ it were ten thousand mile.

Robert Burns Portrait (1787)
by Alexander Naysmith
source Wikipedia

This is my first choice for the Deal Me In Challenge.  It is a poem put to song based on a familiar song that Burns had heard.  It’s structured in four quatrains (four-line stanzas).  Using similes and hyperbole, the writer expresses his great love for a fair, “bonnie lass” and the poem’s repetition enforces his feelings.  Initially he likens his love to a rose, a melody, and then declares the endurance of that love.  At the end of the poem it seems the writer has to go away for awhile, which is perhaps why he has written the poem. so that his sweetheart will know the strength of his feelings and of his constancy.

So far my favourite Burns poem is To A Mouse, but I really appreciate the straight-forward honesty of this one.  I’m so used to little teasings and wittiness from Burns, but this poem is quite delightful!

And for Marianne, here is the poem put to music (the poem begins at about 0:40, for those who don’t like long introductions):

Deal Me In Challenge – Queen of Diamonds #1

Remembrance Day 2014

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In Flanders fields
In Flanders fields the poppies grow,
      
Between the crosses, row on row,
   
That mark our place; and in the sky
   
The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.


We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
         
In Flanders fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw
   
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   
If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         
In Flanders fields.



This well-known Remembrance Day poem was written by John McCrae, a poet and physician from Guelph, Ontario.  While most people know the first couple of lines of the poem, I’m embarrassed to admit I only learned the rest of it a few years ago.  I’m curious to know if this poem is only popular in Canada, or elsewhere too?

The following poem I’ve heard was found on the wall of a hospital in the Philippines after WWII:

A Prayer to Saint Peter
Let them in, Peter
For they are very tired
Give them couches where the angels sleep
And light those fires
Let them wake whole again
To brand new dawns
Fired by the sun
Not war-times bloody guns
May their peace be deep
Remember where the broken bodies lie
God knows how young they were
To have to die
Give them things they like
Let them make some noise
Give dance hall bands not golden harps
To these our boys
Let them love, Peter
For they’ve had no time
They should have bird songs and trees
And hills to climb
The taste of summer
And a ripened pear
And girls as sweet as meadow wind
And flowing hair
And tell them how they are missed
But say not to fear
It’s gonna be all right
With us down here



And later Edwin McCain put it to song:




Lest We Forget.


Vita Nuova by Dante Alighieri

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“In my Book of Memory, in the early part where there is little to be read, there comes a chapter with the rubric: Incipit vita nova.  It is my intention to copy into this little book the words I find written under that heading —- if not all of them, at least the essence of their meaning.”

Beatrice was eight years old and Dante, nine, the first time they set eyes on each other. Instantly, he felt an abiding connection with her, even though it was nine years after that before he finally saw her again, and she greeted him, her words entwining through his heart.  Lovely Beatrice, who became Dante’s love, his obsession and his Muse.   Never a conversation was had between them, only greetings, yet his life was filled with her presence, her goodness and grace, her being so angelic that she filled his heart until he wondered if it could contain her.  All thoughts revolved around his beautiful Beatrice; she was his life and through her, his poetry gained a new vitality.

Continue reading →

To Autumn by John Keats

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John Keats (1795-1821)
                                 
TO AUTUMN
                                        
                                1.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 
       
    Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; 
   
Conspiring with him how to load and bless 
       
   With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, 
       
   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; 
           
      To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells 
   
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, 
       
   And still more, later flowers for the bees, 
       
   Until they think warm days will never cease, 
           
      For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Autumn Colors at Tofuku-ji Temple
courtesy of Sacha Fernandez
Creative Commons


                                 2.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? 
        
   Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find 
   
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 
       
   Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; 
   
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, 
       
   Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
      Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep 
        
   Steady thy laden head across a brook; 
       
   Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, 
           
      Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
                
Autumn Bokeh
courtesy of Torbus
Creative Commons

                                    3.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
   Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—  
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, 
       
   And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue; 
   
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 
       
   Among the river sallows, borne aloft 
           
      Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; 
   
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; 
        
   Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft 
       
   The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; 
         
      And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Autumn Landscape
courtesy of Blmiers2
Creative Commons


Fall is here and so Keats reminds us in this lovely, dreamy lazy poem about this season.

In the first stanza, I love the imagery that is created by Keats filling the reader’s senses with the ripeness of the harvest.  Do you notice the sibilance that is conveyed with words like “mists”, “close blossom”, “bless”, “moss’d”, “swell”, “sweet”, “set”, “cease” and “cells”?  It gives a soft sound to the first stanza that lulls the reader into the dreamy shades of autumn.

The second stanza expresses autumn as a person, and the reader can almost see a goddess sitting on the granary floor while the teasing breezes caress her hair.  Here autumn rests from her harvest.  The personification makes “her” more real, more alive.

While autumn is a season of endings and we tend to start to look forward to spring, yet in the third stanza, Keats encourages the reader to revel in autumn’s glory and bask in its golden sunset, rather than look ahead to something that cannot yet be enjoyed.

I’ve had little exposure to Keats so far, but know this poem will be one of many to come.  I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have and have a very happy autumn season!

The Epic of Gilgamesh

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“The one who saw the abyss I will make the land know;
of him who knew all, let me tell the whole story
 ………… in the same way …….
[as] the lord of wisdom, he who knew everything, Gilgamesh,
who saw things secret, opened the place hidden,
and carried back word of the time before the Flood —
he travelled the road, exhausted, in pain,
and cut his works into a stone tablet.”

Gilgamesh, king of Uruk.  Two-thirds god and one-third man, he built the walls of Uruk, the palace Eanna, and is powerful and commanding.  There is no king like him anywhere.  Yet in spite of having many of the qualities that could make him an honoured king, Gilgamesh oppresses his people and they cry out for relief.  The gods create a wild man, Enkidu is his name. They fight and become fast friends, relieving the people of Gilgamesh’s despotism. Many adventures they have together, and many discoveries they make. Together they behead Humbaba who lives in the cedar forest and they also manage to kill The Bull of Heaven.  Yet one of them must pay for this transgression and Enkidu falls ill, dying even as he laments.  A heart-torn Gilgamesh, determined to find Utnapishtim and find the secret of everlasting life, travels through a number of trials to his journey’s end.  “Surely, Gilgamesh,” Utnapishtim tells him, “you can stay awake for just a week, if you are expecting to have eternal life.”  But Gilgamesh fails the test.  In spite of his near godly status, our hero cannot escape the mortality common to all men.

“My friend Enkidu, whom I loved so dear, who with me went through every danger, the goom of mortals overtook him. 

Six days I wept for him and seven nights: I did not surrender his body for burial until a maggot dropped from his nostril.  Then I was afraid that I, too, would die.  I grew fearful of death, so I wandered the wild. 

…. How can I keep silent?  How can I stay quiet?  My friend, whom I loved, has turned to clay.  My friend Enkidu, whom I loved, has turned to clay.  Shall I not be like him and also lie down, never to rise again, through all eternity?”

Gilgamesh
from the Chaldean
account of Genesis
source Wikipedia

I found many paradoxes in this poem: Gilgamesh is a strong leader, yet he also abuses his power; Gilgamesh is two-thirds god, yet he is also doomed to die; Gilgamesh and Enkidu fight in order to bring peace to Uruk; women are portrayed as vehicles for pleasure, yet are also shown as being wise and having foresight; Enkidu is initially a wild-man, yet he is the one who “tames” Gilgamesh; and in spite of often not sleeping throughout most of the poem, Gilgamesh sleeps at the end, which prevents him from attaining immortality.

Yet in spite of the contradictions, the poet is clear that strength over reason is valueless. Gilgamesh learns that it is trust and integrity in the end that bring acclaim: valuing a friend’s life over his own, discovering the wisdom of accepting death as a part of life, and that being a true leader is about good character and responsibility to his subjects, rather than exercising tyranny, oppression and conquest over them.

And in spite of its ancient roots, the poem still resonates with us today.  Here is a video of Captain Picard from Star Trek the Next Generation giving a short summary of Gilgamesh, in the episode “Darmok” (my favourite episode, BTW!) 🙂

About the translation:  The Sîn-Leqi Unninni Gilgamesh story, found in the library of Ashurbanipal, is the most recent Akkadian version (circa 1200 BC), and is considered the “standard” version.  The editors used it as their fragment of choice and because it contained a number of books that had only a few recoverable words, they had to resort to notes and the Old Babylonian version, in order for the reader to get the gist of the story.  For my first read, in hindsight, I may have chosen a more fluid version, but this version was certainly adequate and scholarly enough that you got the full context of the poem.

Translated from the Sîn-Leqi Unninni version by John Gardiner and John Maier

Desiderata

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 by Max Ehrmann


Allez tranquillement parmi le vacarme et la hâte

Go placidly amid the noise and haste


Et souvenez-vous de la paix qui peut exister dans le silence

Remember what peace there may be in silence


Swiss Landscape with Flowering Apple Tree (1876)
Gustave Courbet
source Wikiart


Sans aliénation, vivre autant que possible en bons termes avec toutes personnes


As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons


Dîtes doucement et clairement votre vérité; et écoutez les autres, même le simple d’esprit et l’ignorant, ils ont eux aussi leur histoire.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.


Évitez les individus bruyants et agressifs, ils sont une vexation pour l’esprit. 

Avoid loud and agressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.



Ne vous comparez avec personne : vous risqueriez de devenir vain ou vaniteux.


If you compare yourselves with others, you may become vain and bitter.


Il y a toujours plus grand et plus petit que vous.

For there with always be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Jouissez de vos projets aussi bien que de vos accomplissements.

Enjoy your acheivements as well as your plans.
Soyez toujours intéressé à votre carrière, si modeste soit-elle

Keep interested in your own career, however humble


C’est un véritable atout dans les prospérités changeantes du temps

It is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.


Flower Seller at la Madeleine
Edouard Cortes
source Wikiart


Soyez prudent dans vos affaires car le monde est plein de ruses


Exercise caution in your business affairs for the world is full of trickery


Mais ne soyez pas aveugle en ce qui concerne la vertu qui existe ;

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;


Plusieurs individus recherchent les grands idéaux ;

Many persons strive for by high ideals;


Et partout la vie est remplie d’héroïsme.

And everywhere life is full of heroism


Soyez vous-même. Surtout n’affectez pas l’amitié.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection.


Non plus ne soyez cynique en amour

Neither be cynical about love


Car il est en face de toute stérilité et de tout désenchantement aussi éternel que l’herbe

For in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass
Portrait of an Old Man (1860)
Konstantin Makovsky
source Wikiart


Prenez avec bonté le conseil des années, 


Take kindly to the counsel of the years


En renonçant avec grâce à votre jeunesse.

Gracefully surrendering the things of youth


Fortifiez une puissance d’esprit pour vous protéger en cas de malheur

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune


Mais ne vous chagrinez pas avec vos chimères.

But do not distress yourself with imaginings


De nombreuses peurs naissent de la fatigue et de la solitude.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness


Au delà d’une discipline saine, soyez doux avec vous-même

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself
Vous êtes un enfant de l’univers, pas moins que les arbres et les étoiles;

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;


Vous avez le droit d’etre ici.

You have a right to be here.


Et qu’il vous soit clair ou non, l’univers se déroule sans doute comme il le devrait

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Soyez en paix avec Dieu, quelle que soit votre conception de lui

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be




Quels que soient vos travaux et vos rêves,


Whatever your labors and aspirations


Gardez, dans le désarroi bruyant de la vie, la paix de votre âme.

In the noisy confusion of life, keep at peace with your soul


Avec toutes ses perfidies, ses besognes fastidieuses et ses rêves brisés,

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams


Le monde est pourtant beau ;

It is still a beautiful world;


Prenez attention.

Be cheerful.


Tâchez d’être heureux.

Strive to be happy.

“Desiderata” in Latin means “desired things”  It is a poem that was written in 1927 by Max Ehrmann, a poet, writer and attorney, yet it’s popularity only spiralled after his death.  In 1956, a rector of St. Paul’s Church in Baltimore, Reverend Frederick Kates, included the poem in some devotional material that he planned to give to his congregation, starting the poem on a path of common recognition.  When U.S. presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson was found dead in his home in 1965, a copy of this poem was found by his bed which furthered its rising popularity.  Since then, numerous politicians, actors and musicians have either used the poem for their art or spoken of the effect that it has had on them in their lives.

A bronze statue of Ehrmann can be found in his hometown of Terre Haute, Indianna.

Max Ehrmann (1949)
source Wikipedia

Nuits de Juin by Victor Hugo

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Photo courtesy of Mark J P
source Flickr
Creative Commons License
Nuits de Juin

L’été, lorsque le jour a fui, de fleurs couverte
La plaine verse au loin un parfum enivrant;
Les yeux fermés, l’oreille aux rumeurs entrouverte,
On ne dort qu’à demi d’un sommeil transparent.
Les astres sont plus purs, l’ombre paraît meilleure:
Un vague demi-jour teint le dôme éternel;
Et l’aube douce et pâle, en attendant son heure,
Semble toute la nuit errer au bas du ciel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well-known for his epic novel, Les Miserables, Victor Hugo was also a poet.  He produced volumes of poetry including, Les Orientales, Les Feuilles d’Automne, Les Chants du Créspecule, Les Voix Intérieures, and Les Rayons et Les Ombres.  Of course, this poem of Hugo’s that I’ve chosen is very month appropriate.  I’m getting good at this!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June Nights

In summer, when day has fled, the plain covered with flowers
Pours out an intoxicating perfume far off;
With closed eyes, with ears partially open to sounds,
One only half-sleeps with a transparent slumber.
The stars are purer, the darkness more inviting;
A vague half-light tints the eternal dome;
And the sweet and pale dawn, awaiting its time,
Seems to be wandering low in the sky all night.


Transparency
Photo courtesy of Louis Argerich
source Flickr
Creative Commons License

Im Wunderschönen Monat Mai by Heinrich Heine

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Rolf Armstrong
source Wikiart

Im Wunderschönen Monat Mai
Im wunderschönen Monat Mai
Als alle Knospen sprangen
Da ist in meinem Herzen
Die Liebe aufgegangen
Im wunderschönen Monat Mai
Als alle Vögel sangen,
Da hab’ ich ihr gestanden
Mein Sehnen und Verlangen.

____________________________________________

In The Wondrously Beautiful Month of May
In the wondrously beautiful month of May
When all the buds sprang open
Then in my heart
Love sprouted.
In the wondrously beautiful month of May
When all the birds were singing
Then I confessed to her
My longing and desire.

This poem has long been one of my favourites.  And what a better time to share it than the month of May and for my Language Freak Summer Challenge.  After reading the English translation, I was left somewhat disconsolate ……… works in translation really do not do justice to the original.

Heinrich Heine was a German poet, journalist, essayist and literary critic, born in Düsseldorf in 1797 and died in Paris in 1856.  His lyric poetry was set to music by composing greats such as Robert Schumann and Franz Schubert.  The government did not take kindly to his radical political views; many of his works were banned in Germany and he spent the last 25 years of his life in exile.