Le Sacre du Printemps

[DieterM]

I
Tidal air waves gush from West and South,
hounding out the cruel white Beast
with balmy thaw needles and daggers,
a first crocus lifts its purple cloche,
diffident and solitary in a melt pool.

Then the rush grows with the days
and the sun spills wake-up screams over the land
and the silent forests stretch and crack,
blood runs faster, rivers swell like bulging veins,
a new flame, untamed, floods hills and plains.

In the caves, muscles uncurl, fingers unfreeze,
they apply brown colour on their solemn faces,
writing ancient tales in Pagan runes,
using lines and circles, dots and arrows,
while the warm winds holler in their heads.

The gathering commences with a bow,
ashen skin rubs over humid soil,
a first murmur travels through the crowd,
louder, faster, while the bodies rise and start to swirl,
calling upon powerful and scary spirits.

II
Glade in fogs with hundred ghostlike bodies dancing
– Feet. Stomp.

Heads loll, drums roll
– Hands. Slap.

Mouths gape, eyes turn, sweat flies, fumes rise
– Trance. Dance.

Birds break up, steam clogs, gasps ring
– Speed. Turn.

Control flees while bodies vanish, minds cry out as one
– Whine. Scream.

A mighty fertile bellow begging…

III
Heads. Feet. Loll.
Dizzy. Drums roll.
Speed. Winds holler.
Knife sparkles.
Stomp. Clap. Gasps.
Groans. No control.
Moans. Victim falls.
Blood spurts. Crimson gush.

IV
And a lark lifts up,
wings golden in the setting sun,
carried by a wave of smells,
the metal of blood, the rancid sweat,
the stringent lushness of pine needles.

And the lark sings the good tidings
into the roaring spring storm.

[Lumiere]

This did exactly what it was supposed to do:
I didn't recognize the title in French, but the poem reminded me of Rite of Spring anyway. I looked it up to have another listen and realized Le Sacre de Printemps IS Rite of Spring. You so well capture the "wake-up screams" of the song, it's like you've extracted the lyrics. Really enjoyed this, Dieter.

[Hawkman]

Hi Dieter. This appeals to my pagan soul but I think you might want to look at the first two strophes again. The cadence is inconsistant and personally I find some of the word choices, like "balmy thaw needles" a little ragged. But this is of course a subjective opinion. Incidentally, why the capitalisation of Beast? I can see how the disquieting rhythm might be deliberate and employed to convey the waking of spring urges, but I'm not sure if it works.

The next two stanzas are much stronger in my opinion and really very artfully crafted, depicting tribal, spiritual, human awakenings in wonderful detail.

III is really just a reiteration of II and much more effectively written in my view. Maybe you should drop II altogether. Loved the ending though. As always, this is just my response so feel free to disregard etc.

For the most part I enjoyed this poem and felt stirred by the imagery.

Live long and prosper. H

[DieterM]

@Lumiere: why, thank you, I'm very glad you liked (and recognised) the theme. I hesitated whether the title should be "Sacred Spring" (apparently the original Russian title) or "Spring Sacrifice" but finally, after having listened to the music once again, I settled for the French title which to me speaks of more than just simple "rites"; it means, literally, coronation or consecration and carries on a subconscious level the notion of "sacrifier" (sacrifice) as well.

@Hawk: Well, from Pagan to Pagan ;-) glad you liked certain bits. As always, I respect your "response" and far from disregarding it am honoured that you took the time to share it with me. I will surely have another go at the stanzas that ring a tad weak/awkward in my ears, too. As for the IInd part, I cannot bear the idea to discard it so I'll try and make it work better (I really wanted to echo the discontinued ram-pam-pam-pam-BOOM-BOOM / ram-pam-pam-BOOM-BOOM rhythm of Stravinsky's music, hence the full stops after single words). I'll post the revised version as soon as possible and would be glad to have your opinion, as always.

PS: what I really appreciate about your comments is that you never pretend to know it all and know it better; yet, in your almost apologetic fashion, you're a great help for me! thanks for that, too.