Poem of the Day

Very nice, Fitz. I think it's a marvelous poem. I have never heard of Baxter, or any New Zealand poet for that matter. Is there a translation to the foreign language lines, which I assume are in Maaori? They are centered at the heart of the poem and I gather are central.

Thank you Virgil - I'm very glad you like it :D The line is the Maaori rendition of the English line which follows: The sun which is godlike.

I shall have to look out some more Baxter poems - he is one of my favourite modern poets.

The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blue,
The lamp fills with pale green glow
The trees of the avenue.

The old piano plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
Her heads inclines this way.

Shy thoughts and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they list---
The twilight turns to darker blue
With lights of amethyst.


Jame Joyce

Unfinished Poem

IV

It's already past one. You'll have gone to bed.
In the night, a silvery river is the Milky Way.
I'm not in a hurry, and there's no need
to disturb you with the lightning of my cables.
Besides, as they say, the incident is closed.
The ship of love has foundered on life's reef.
You and I are even. And why should we list
our mutual grievances, our hurts, our griefs.
See how still the world has grown.
Night has laid the sky under a tribute of stars.
In such an hour as this, one may rise and address
the ages, history, the universe.

- Vladimir Mayakovsky ( 1893 - 1930 )

Translation from the Russian by Daniel Weissbort

Congratulations, ShoutGrace, I've never considered James Joyce much of a poet, though I love his prose, but you've posted my favorite of his poems.

Nightwalk, this is a very lonesome poem. Are many of Mayakovsky's poems like that? I'll have to look into it. Very good selection.

I take it, the theme for today is night. Excellent, but that will have to wait.

Hello Jean-Baptiste. Yes, it's one of Mayakovsky's most sombre and stirring lyrics. In fact, he included a few lines of the poem in his suicide note.

Mayakovsky's poetry was a contrast between the experimental and the lyrical. He was one of the founders and leaders of the Futurist movement in pre-WW1 Russia. But he was also noted for his verses on love and loneliness. He was said to have mocked the poetry of Anna Akhmatova in public but read her love poems in secret.

Here is a link to the best compilation of Mayakovsky's works in English.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/025...e=UTF8&s=books

Very interesting; I'll have to pick it up. Thanks, Nightwalk.

Here's my selection for today:

PAGANI’S, NOVEMBER 8
by Ezra Pound

"Suddenly discovering in the eyes of the very beautiful
Normande cocotte
The eyes of the very learned British Museum assistant."

U.S. 1946

Having invented a new Holocaust,
And been the first with it to win a war,
How they make haste to cry with fingers crossed,
King's X -- no fairs to use it anymore!

by Robert Frost

Seizure

To me he seems like a god
the man who sits facing you
and hears you near as you speak
softly and laugh

in a sweet echo that jolts
the heart in my ribs. For now
as I look at you my voice
is empty and

can say nothing as my tongue
cracks and slender fire is quick
under my skin. My eyes are dead
to light, my ears

pound, and sweat pours over me.
I convulse, greener than grass,
and feel my mind slip as I
go close to death,

yet I must suffer all things,
being poor.

Sappho

Thank you for posting more poetry by Sappho, genoveva - lovely, lovely. :nod:
Besides writing very early in the history of poetry, few poets of her era, location, and culture wrote with the immense passion as she did.
This particular poem, I think I read in a different translation, as it looks familiar from somewhere; it has elements of both anger and sadness, I think, and a bit of shame. Why she mentions her poverty, however, I cannot understand, since she married, allegedly, a wealthy merchant of some kind - perhaps a different kind of poverty to this 'man who seems like a god'?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by mono

Why she mentions her poverty, however, I cannot understand, since she married, allegedly, a wealthy merchant of some kind - perhaps a different kind of poverty to this 'man who seems like a god'?

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Good point. Most undoubtedly the translation of "being poor" does not refer to financials in my opinion. Btw, that translation was by Willis Barnstone.

Here is another translation by Mary Barnard where she omits the ending lines which must be fragmented:

He is more than a hero

He is a god in my eyes-
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you- he

who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing

laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can't

speak- my tongue is broken;
a think flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,

hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body

and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn't far from me

Here's a third translation by Jim Powell who translates very close to Greek without conjecturing missing parts. The ending line is very interesting in comparing it to the first, Willis Barnstone translation. The ending bracket shows where the original papyrus text was ripped; hence, missing pieces of the poem!

In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who
sits there facing you- any man whatever-
listening from closeby to the sweetness of your
voice as you talk, the

sweetness of your laughter; yes, that- I swear it-
sets the heart to shaking inside my breast, since
once I look at you for a moment, I can't
speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a
subtle fire races inside my skin, my
eyes can't see a thing and a whirring whistle
thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes
ahold of me all over: I'm greener than the
grass is and appear to myself to be a little
short of dying.

But all must be endured, since even a poor [

Piazza Piece

—I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying
To make you hear. Your ears are soft and small
And listen to an old man not at all,
They want the young men's whispering and sighing.
But see the roses on your trellis dying
And hear the spectral singing of the moon;
For I must have my lovely lady soon,
I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying.

—I am a lady young in beauty waiting
Until my truelove comes, and then we kiss.
But what gray man among the vines is this
Whose words are dry and faint as in a dream?
Back from my trellis, Sir, before I scream!
I am a lady young in beauty waiting.

John Crowe Ransom

:lol: That's good stuff, Basil. I've been thinking of looking into John Crowe Ransom, just because I like his name. This poem gives me a creepy feeling. I don't know which character to feel sorry for. Thanks for posting.

That is an interesting poem. They way he gives the perspective of the two charecters almost creates two stories. This poem feels like it is emphasising the basis of love on external charectaristics. Also the idealistic ideas behind finding your true love especialy seen with the young beuty.
Beutifull poem, nice selection. I havent heard of John Crow Ransom before.