Ezra Pound; jibberish or brilliance

[LeavesOfGrass]

About four years ago, I was introduced to Ezra Pound while reading a biography on Hemingway. I was curious at first mention. Months later, I purchased The Cantos by Ezra Pound and glanced over a few pages. It was incomprehensible. A friend told me that you can never truly appreciate a poet until you study his life first. Therefore, I purchased a bio on Pound and knocked it out; fascinating. Afterwards, I turned back to The Cantos but put it aside after several evenings. I consider myself an intellectual and feel confident that I can analyze and comprehend most of what's out there, but The Cantos is on another plain. Does anyone agree with me? He seems to ramble at times, and his references to ancient civilizations and mythical gods does not seem to fit well in his poetry. He skips from topic to topic, race to race, country to country, philosophy to governing body. What do you guys think of Pound? I can appreciate him as a man who had an eye for spotting talent and critiquing others work, but as a poet, I don't know. Any suggestions or opinions would be appreciated. Thx.

[OrphanPip]

He was a better poet than he was a man lol. As a man he was a fascist, anti-semite, propagandist and traitor to his country.

I've never read the Cantos, and it has a reputation of being a difficult work to read, but I really love "In a Station of The Metro", from what I've read of Pound's poetry, it changes radically depending on the phase he was in at the moment. I'm also not all that well-verse in modernist poetry so maybe someone with better knowledge on the subject will have a more informed opinion. It is probably easier to approach Pound through the shorter poems.

An Immorality by Ezra Pound

Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.

Though I have been in many a land,
There is naught else in living.

And I would rather have my sweet,
Though rose-leaves die of grieving,

Than do high deeds in Hungary
To pass all men's believing.

[sixsmith]

Like Pip, I am not familiar with the Cantos. I have, however, enjoyed several of Pound's shorter poems, the following in particular:


Portrait d'une Femme

Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea,
London has swept about you this score years
And bright ships left you this or that in fee:
Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things,
Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price.
Great minds have sought you—lacking someone else.
You have been second always. Tragical?
No. You preferred it to the usual thing:
One dull man, dulling and uxorious,
One average mind—with one thought less, each year.
Oh, you are patient, I have seen you sit
Hours, where something might have floated up.
And now you pay one. Yes, you richly pay.
You are a person of some interest, one comes to you
And takes strange gain away:
Trophies fished up; some curious suggestion:
Fact that leads nowhere; and a tale or two,
Pregnant with mandrakes, or with something else
That might prove useful and yet never proves,
That never fits a corner or shows use,
Or finds its hour upon the loom of days:
The tarnished, gaudy, wonderful old work;
Idols and ambergris and rare inlays,
These are your riches, your great store; and yet
For all this sea-hoard of deciduous things,
Strange woods half sodden, and new brighter stuff:
In the slow float of differing light and deep,
No! there is nothing! In the whole and all,
Nothing that's quite your own.
Yet this is you.

[Babbalanja]

Pound was a poetic genius. His erudition in history, languages, and literature pours off every page of the immense Cantos. His poetry rejected the daisy-sniffing Romanticism of the nineteenth century. He intended to reclaim the legacy of the Bards who once made important social critiques with their work.

The less said about the personal and political Pound the better. His WWII-era treason involved going to Italy to broadcast anti-American propaganda that no one could understand except the US agents monitoring Italian radio. Does this give you some indication of his lunacy?

Anyone who likes the forceful, allusive poetry of Geoffrey Hill should find something to admire in the Cantos. I can't say the verse is always lucid (I could use an annotation book, or three), but it's ambitious and eccentric.

Regards,

Istvan

[Virgil]

Pound is hit and miss with some of his poetry. When he hits, he's truely great and that's what you have to base his reputation on. Yeah his personal is pathetic and disgraceful to his everlasting reputation.

Here's my all time favorite Pound poem, Canto XVII:


XVII
By Ezra Pound

So that the vines burst from my fingers
And the bees weighted with pollen
More heavily in the vine-shoots:
Chirr—chir—chir-rikk—a purring sound,
And the birds sleepily in the branches.
ZAGREUS! IO ZAGREUS.
With the first pale-clear of the heave
And the cities set in the hills,
And the goddess of the fair knees
Moving there, with the oak-woods behind her,
The green slope, with white hounds
leaping about her;
And thence down to the creek’s mouth, until evening,
Flat water before me,
and the trees growing in water,
Marble trunks out of stillness,
On past the palazzo,
in the stillness,
The light now, not of the sun.
Chrysophrase,
And the water green clear, and blue clear;
On, to the great cliffs of amber.
Between them,
Cave of Nerea,
she like a great shell curved,
And the boat drawn without sound,
Without odor of ship-work,
No bird cry, nor any noise of wave moving,
Nor splash of porpoise, nor any noise of wave moving,
Within her cave, Nerea,
she like a great shell curved
In the suavity of the rock,
cliff green-gray in the far,
In the near, the gate-cliffs of amber,
And the wave
green clear, and blue clear,
And the cave salt-white, and glare-purple,
cool, porphyry smooth,
the rock sea-worn.
No gull-cry, no sound of porpoise,
Sand as malachite, and no cold there,
the light not of the sun.

Zagreus, feeding his panthers,
the turf clear as on hills under light.
And under the almond-trees, gods,
with them, choros nympharum. Gods,
Hermes and Athene,
As shaft of compass,
Between them, trembled—
To the left is the place of fauns,
sylva nympharum;
The low wood, moor-scrub,
the doe, the young spotted dear,
leap up through the broom-plants,
as dry leaf amid yellow.
And by one cut of the hills,
the great alley of Memnons.
Beyond, sea, crests seen over dune
Night sea churning shingle,
To the left, the alley of cypress.
A boat came,
One man holding her sail,
Guiding her with oar caught over gunwhale, saying:
“ There, in the forest of marble,
“ the stone trees—out of water—
“ the arbours of stone—
“ marble leaf, over leaf,
“ silver, steel over steel,
“ silver beaks rising and crossing,
“ prow set against prow,
“ stone, ply over ply,
“ the gilt beams flare of an evening”
Borso, Carmagnola, the men of craft, i vitrei,
Thither, at one time, time after time,
And the waters richer than glass,
Bronze gold, the blaze over the silver,
Dye-pots in the torch-light,
The flash of wave under prows,
And the silver beaks rising and crossing.
Stone trees, white and rose-white in the darkness,
Cypress there by the towers,
Drift under hulls in the night.

“In the gloom the gold
Gathers the light about it.”

Now supine in burrow, half over-arched bramble,
One eye for the sea, through the peek-hole,
Gray light, with Athene.
Zothar and her elephants, the gold loin-cloth,
The sistrum, shaken, shaken,
the cohorts of her dancers.
And Aletha, by the bend of the shore,
with her eyes seaward,
and in her hands sea-wrack
Salt-bright with foam.
Kore through the bright meadow,
with green-gray dust in the grass:
“For this hour, brother of Circe.”
Arm laid over my shoulder,
Saw the sun for three days, and none after,
Splendour, as the splendour of Hermes,
And shipped thence
to the stone place,
Pale white, over water,
known water,
And the white forest of marble, bent bough over bough,
The pleached arbour of stone,
Thither Borso, when they shot the barbed arrow at him,
And Carmagnola, between the two columns,
Sigismundo, after that wreck in Dalmatia.
Sunset like the grasshopper flying.

[Paulclem]

That's a great verse Virgil. Like previous posters, I am not familiar with the Cantos, but I like this poem by Pound.


The Garrett

Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are.
Come, my friend, and remember
that the rich have butlers and no friends,
And we have friends and no butlers.
Come, let us pity the married and the unmarried.

Dawn enters with little feet
like a gilded Pavlova
And I am near my desire.
Nor has life in it aught better
Than this hour of clear coolness
the hour of waking together.


That great line:

Dawn enters with little feet
like a gilded Pavlova

It had me stumped when I used it in one of my classes, and so, with no time to check, I presented the poem to my class of very erudite creative writers.

In discussion they revealed that Pavlova refers, (of couse), to a female ballet dancer and not the meringue falling on the garret floor I had in mind.:lol:

Oh to be cultured. Mind you, I can't stand ballet.

[stlukesguild]

I would most certainly not sell Ezra Pound short. His efforts as a "translator" alone virtually seal his place in literary history:

The Seafarer

May I for my own self song's truth reckon,
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh days
Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided,
Known on my keel many a care's hold,
And dire sea-surge, and there I oft spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs. Coldly afflicted,
My feet were by frost benumbed.
Chill its chains are; chafing sighs
Hew my heart round and hunger begot
Mere-weary mood. Lest man know not
That he on dry land loveliest liveth,
List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea,
Weathered the winter, wretched outcast
Deprived of my kinsmen;
Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-scur flew,
There I heard naught save the harsh sea
And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan cries,
Did for my games the gannet's clamour,
Sea-fowls, loudness was for me laughter,
The mews' singing all my mead-drink.
Storms, on the stone-cliffs beaten, fell on the stern
In icy feathers; full oft the eagle screamed
With spray on his pinion...

http://www.web-books.com/Classics/Poetry/Anthology/Pound/Seafarer.htm

Pound marvelously constructs an equivalent for the rough-hewn Anglo Saxon and its use of consonance and alliteration. It suggest a marvelous sing-song chanting of the early oral tradition and most certainly informs his own works:

Canto LXV

With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
that delight might cover their face,

with usura

hath no man a painted paradise on his church wall
harpes et luthes
or where virgin receiveth message
and halo projects from incision,

with usura

seeth no man Gonzaga his heirs and his concubines
no picture is made to endure nor to live with
but it is made to sell and sell quickly

with usura, sin against nature,
is thy bread ever more of stale rags
is thy bread dry as paper,
with no mountain wheat, no strong flour

with usura the line grows thick

with usura is no clear demarcation
and no man can find site for his dwelling
Stone cutter is kept from his stone
weaver is kept from his loom

WITH USURA

wool comes not to market
sheep bringeth no gain with usura
Usura is a murrain, usura
blunteth the needle in the the maid's hand
and stoppeth the spinner's cunning. Pietro Lombardo
came not by usura
Duccio came not by usura
nor Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin' not by usura
nor was "La Callunia" painted.
Came not by usura Angelico; came not Ambrogio Praedis,
No church of cut stone signed: Adamo me fecit.
Not by usura St. Trophime

Not by usura St. Hilaire,

Usura rusteth the chisel
It rusteth the craft and the craftsman
It gnaweth the thread in the loom
None learneth to weave gold in her pattern;
Azure hath a canker by usura; cramoisi is unbroidered
Emerald findeth no Memling

Usura slayeth the child in the womb
It stayeth the young man's courting
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom

CONTRA NATURAM

They have brought whores for Eleusis
Corpses are set to banquet

at behest of usura.


Listen to Pound read this section of the poem here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3IpkOZjyVw

I'll post some other favorite poems and passages later.:seeya:

[Virgil]

That's a great poem and a great line Paul.

StLukes, I like "The Seafarer" poem but I have never been a fan of the "With Usura" Canto. There is such anger and conspiracy associated with it that it just rubs me the wrong way. Plus, the repetitions get obnoxious. This section is kind of ridiculous if you think about:

Usura slayeth the child in the womb
It stayeth the young man's courting
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom
:lol: That's Pound's demons speaking.

[mayneverhave]

A friend told me that you can never truly appreciate a poet until you study his life first.

I would disregard this advice. The poet/author's personal life has no bearing on the work itself, and to let the details of the author's life intrude upon the poem/novel/play often leads to misreadings. I merely have to point to the greatest of English writers as an example of a writer of which hardly anything is known - but yet it seems entirely irrelevant.

With Pound, knowledge of his political/economic theory might be useful, but the argument could be made that the text itself calls for such knowledge, and its link to his life is only incidental. Often times the details of Pounds life lead to a bias against his poetry, and any critical reader should be careful to distance themselves.

[stlukesguild]

Virgil... I'm certainly aware of the negative aspects of Pound's history and I agree that In Usura gives poetic vent, if you will, to certain hatreds... including antisemitism. The resulting work strikes me, ironically, as the voice of a half-mad Hebrew prophet. I am left dazed; rather as with Plato's Republic I find that while I disagree with all or most of what he has to say, I am absolutely enthralled with his manner of saying it.

[Virgil]

Virgil... I'm certainly aware of the negative aspects of Pound's history and I agree that In Usura gives poetic vent, if you will, to certain hatreds... including antisemitism. The resulting work strikes me, ironically, as the voice of a half-mad Hebrew prophet. I am left dazed; rather as with Plato's Republic I find that while I disagree with all or most of what he has to say, I am absolutely enthralled with his manner of saying it.

"the voice of a half-mad Hebrew prophet" :lol: Yes it does. The repetition gets tiresome in that poem for me. Also it seems to be over anthologized. But I do think Pound is a great poet. By the way, Pound recorded that poem. I wonder if it's on youtube. Let me go look.

[stlukesguild]

I posted a link to it in my above post.:dita:

[stlukesguild]

A sincerely hope that smilie was pointing up and not giving you "the finger".:goof:

[Virgil]

Yes, here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3IpkOZjyVw&feature=related. There is a hatred that drips from his voice. I was always so-so on the poem, but when I first heard that recording, i really turned against it.

[sixsmith]

Yes, here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3IpkOZjyVw&feature=related. There is a hatred that drips from his voice. I was always so-so on the poem, but when I first heard that recording, i really turned against it.

It's a compelling reading but I agree: there is real malice behind it.

The little I have encountered of Pound's work fascinates me. A question, then, to both you, Virgil, and St Lukes: is there an exemplary critic of Pound? Some superficial research points me in the direction of Hugh Kenner's The Pound Era.

[Virgil]

It's a compelling reading but I agree: there is real malice behind it.

The little I have encountered of Pound's work fascinates me. A question, then, to both you, Virgil, and St Lukes: is there an exemplary critic of Pound? Some superficial research points me in the direction of Hugh Kenner's The Pound Era.

I'm not a Pound scholar I'm afraid. I don't recall ever doing any serious research on Pound. Somewhere in my stack of books is The Guide to the Cantos of Ezra Pound, and the author is William Cookson. Here:
http://www.amazon.com/Guide-Cantos-Ezra-Pound-Revised/dp/0892552468/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266029560&sr=1-1-spell.

[Babbalanja]

In Usura gives poetic vent, if you will, to certain hatreds... including antisemitism. The resulting work strikes me, ironically, as the voice of a half-mad Hebrew prophet. I am left dazed; rather as with Plato's Republic I find that while I disagree with all or most of what he has to say, I am absolutely enthralled with his manner of saying it.Though I've loved his poetry for decades, this is the first time I've heard Pound recite Canto XLV. Amazing.

Criticizing the canto as "angry" (as one of our astute comrades does here) is simply moronic. The poet lost friends in WWI, and came to believe that modern banking was the cause of the disastrous war and the worldwide Depression that preceded WWII. However ill-informed about economics and politics Pound was, he was formulating a Bardic critique to the power structures of his time.

Regards,

Istvan

[Virgil]

Criticizing the canto as "angry" (as one of our astute comrades does here) is simply moronic. The poet lost friends in WWI, and came to believe that modern banking was the cause of the disastrous war and the worldwide Depression that preceded WWII. However ill-informed about economics and politics Pound was, he was formulating a Bardic critique to the power structures of his time.


Not sure who the moron reference is directed to, but it seems to me that having "lost friends in WWI" and believing "that modern banking was the cause of the war and the worldwide depression" is not mutually exclusive with being angry. In fact it actually supports it. One would be expected to be angry. It makes you wonder at the moron who has no ability to use reason in his formulation of ideas and goes around calling others moron.

[Babbalanja]

Not sure who the moron reference is directed to, but it seems to me that having "lost friends in WWI" and believing "that modern banking was the cause of the war and the worldwide depression" is not mutually exclusive with being angry. In fact it actually supports it. One would be expected to be angry. It makes you wonder at the moron who has no ability to use reason in his formulation of ideas and goes around calling others moron.I meant denigrating the poem as angry is moronic: that's exactly the point of the poem, to express anger at the machinations of the powerful. It's hardly Pound's fault that it rubs you the wrong way.

Regards,

Istvan

[JBI]

Personally, Pound when he reads spouts gibberish, but when he writes only writes gibberish half the time. I like him on short lyrics, but really the Cantos to me are a little daunting, and besides certain passages, the bulk of them, which I've tried to read on several occasions, seem not worth the effort - I don't want to spend that much time unwinding a poem for the sake of unwinding it if the unwound stuff isn't worth the effort - Eliot to me is worth unwinding, the late Yeats is worth unwinding, the less clear Pound most of the time throughout the Cantos doesn't seem worth it.

Then again, certain poems are undoubtedly spectacular, so he is an extreme case - in translation I would agree he is best at home - and his translations from Chinese read in my opinion far better than most other traditions, even if they aren't accurate at all - they at least read well (though now, with the exception of certain poems, better translations exist. His River Merchant's Wife seems to be the most lasting of the lot though).

[Jozanny]

Pound is hit and miss with some of his poetry. When he hits, he's truely great and that's what you have to base his reputation on. Yeah his personal is pathetic and disgraceful to his everlasting reputation.

I cannot praise or defend Pound's creativity except by indirection, as I never studied the Cantos, but I would back up some on the fascism and the mental health issues in his end of life episodes. Many writers and artists become monsters, or give into fanaticism at some point. It is the sacrifice we make to get on the scoreboard. Eliot had the prejudices of his caste, so did Picasso, as did even a lesser orb like Collins or a chess genius like Bobby Fischer.

I do not like the apologia of exclusion for extremism in artistic personalities; it needs to be included to get at the totality of understanding.

[mayneverhave]

Well Virgil I'm glad you can place aside your dislike of his personal history and judge his poetry as poetry.

As for me, I have a decently annotated copy of the Pisan Cantos, but I'm having a bit of trouble getting into it - much more difficult than The Waste Land. I'll admit, however, that I haven't not done an extensive reading, but its sheer difficulty - all the "stuff" involved - certainly makes it interesting to look at.

[Virgil]

Well Virgil I'm glad you can place aside your dislike of his personal history and judge his poetry as poetry.

As for me, I have a decently annotated copy of the Pisan Cantos, but I'm having a bit of trouble getting into it - much more difficult than The Waste Land. I'll admit, however, that I haven't not done an extensive reading, but its sheer difficulty - all the "stuff" involved - certainly makes it interesting to look at.

It is more difficult than the waste land. Pound's allusions are even more vague and the ideas that connects them more loose. At some point, you just have to ask, even though I don't understand this, does it make for good poetry? Is the language - the rhythm, the diction, the metrics, the sounds - interesting and engaging?

[sixsmith]

Well Virgil I'm glad you can place aside your dislike of his personal history and judge his poetry as poetry.

As for me, I have a decently annotated copy of the Pisan Cantos, but I'm having a bit of trouble getting into it - much more difficult than The Waste Land. I'll admit, however, that I haven't not done an extensive reading, but its sheer difficulty - all the "stuff" involved - certainly makes it interesting to look at.

I agree: Pound makes Eliot seem positively straightforward. Indeed, even outside the Cantos, its pretty thorny stuff. However, that's part of the appeal for me at this point. I'm currently working through a selected Pound (1908-1959) and really enjoying it a great deal, vague allusions and unfamiliar terms notwithstanding.



I'm not a Pound scholar I'm afraid. I don't recall ever doing any serious research on Pound. Somewhere in my stack of books is The Guide to the Cantos of Ezra Pound, and the author is William Cookson. Here:
http://www.amazon.com/Guide-Cantos-Ezra-Pound-Revised/dp/0892552468/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266029560&sr=1-1-spell.

Thanks for this Virgil. Will need all the resources I can get.

[quasimodo1]

from Selected Poems of Ezra Pound
(New Directions)

THE TREE

I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;
Of Daphne and the laurel bough
And that god-feasting couple old
That grew elm-oak amid the wold.
'Twas not until the gods had been
Kindly entreated, and been brought within
Unto the hearth of their heart's home
That they might do this wonder thing;
Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before.

[LeavesOfGrass]

Thanks for the input guys, though I will say that I must disagree with MayNeverHave's comment regarding the irrelevance of studying a poets (or novelist's) life to better understand their poetry. Pound is the perfect example; had we known nothing of his political or wartime beliefs, much of The Cantos would be indescernible. Whitman is another example. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry would not be so lovely had I not known a great deal about his upbringing. Could you appreciate Keats if you did not know of his struggle with consumption or his relationship with Fannie? Poe's recreational use of opium and its signficance in several of his poems and short stories? Just a thought.

[Uroboros1989]

hmmm...Ezra Paund's potery is defenitely arguable issue, i have to admit that i don't have predilection fr this kind of work. American Modernizm is quite transparent in comparizon with British one. For example, "In a station of a metro"! Ok I can agree that it shows the convention of imaginism, because there are pure images indeed. However, the presentation of this images is too simple for me :( a forced presentation of the "stream of consciousness" ... quite far-fetched...
as regards ealier acquainting of the authors' biography, it's good to some extent, because you can enrich your knowledge of stages of work's creation. However, when you interpret it, it useless... there is no an erroneous interpretation. Sometimes it's better then we say what we think and analyse pure text, i believe...but it's only my humble opinion :)