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Currious poem, not quite sure what to make of it. The first half of it seems to be arather quaint, but very vividly and realstictially done, portrayl of a summer day, but then at the end of the poem he tacked on what seems to be a poltical message of some sort.
Yes that ending does open the poem up to increased meanings. The poem does seem structured into halves, the first four stanzas depicting the natural world and a transition from a summer day into an evening.
The first two stanzas really depict the summer qualities. I love the use of the word "entourage." It's almost as if there is a pagent going on and the summer qualities are marching out in single file. What a cuirous metaphor in the second stanza, summer as a "day-long jangle of chains." I'm not sure I know what to make of it, but it is striking. The next two stanzas have movement, a motion from day to evening:Quote:
It brought an entourage of thirst,
stingers, butterflies, and stains,
weaving tapestries from its memory
of mayflower, mint, and honey.
Not the ticking of clocks
but the day-long jangle of chains
pierced the air with drowsy thorns
and cast a spell on the weather.
And then the fifth stanza which I see as the critical stanza:Quote:
It happened - the sunset,
tired of games, passed
dominion over the kitchen garden
to cicadas, stars, and trees.
The moon shed beams, not shadows,
and disappeared without a sound,
while quietly the night rippled
from cloud to cloud.
If I untangle the syntax and write this out in a sentence form, it would be the following: "The light rain shuffled at the door, more from dreams than eaves, more absent minded than timid, and smelled of wine cork." More absent minded than timid is a personification of the rain, which ties into "shufflled at the door", but what about "more from dreams than eaves?" What's that referring to? The rain isn't dreaming, I don't think. I think it's the central conscious of the narrator, so that the rain is somewhere between physical and metaphysical. And that smell of wine cork comes back later, so it is important. It's very tangible. And then the sixth stanza:Quote:
More from dreams than from eaves,
more absent minded than timid,
the light rain shuffled at the door
and smelled of wine-cork.
Now there is a lot of going on there. The rain and weeds smelled. And that's how the gentry's decrees smelled. Not the gentry but their decrees. Was this written before the Bolshevik revolution? I think it was after. The gentry are the Bolshvik's enemies. From M-W:Quote:
That's how the dust smelled. And the weeds.
And once you got the point,
that's how the gentry's decrees smelled:
of brotherhood, equality.
Gentry are typically low level aristocracy. But brotherhood and equality are usually not associated with the gentry. Is gentry being used as middle class? Is the use of "smell" a negative or a positive characterization? To be honest I'm not a hundred percent sure I can answer these questions. I think it's positive, the smmer rain and I guess a wine cork is a good smell, but I'm not sure. Weeds instead of grass gives me pause. And the concluding stanza is really enigmattic:Quote:
gentry
Main Entry: gen·try
Pronunciation: \ˈjen-trē\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural gentries
Etymology: Middle English gentrie, alteration of gentrise
Date: 14th century
1 aobsolete : the qualities appropriate to a person of gentle birth ; especially : courtesy b: the condition or rank of a gentleman
2 a: upper or ruling class : aristocracy b: a class whose members are entitled to bear a coat of arms though not of noble rank ; especially : the landed proprietors having such status
3: people of a specified class or kind : folks <no real heroes or heroines among the academic gentry — R. G. Hanvey>
Who is "they"? Is that the Bolshviks? If so, then is the use of "gentry" highly ironic? That's the meaning I'm leaning to but I certainly coould be convinced otherwise.Quote:
They installed councils in the provinces.
Did you, friend, cast your lot with them?
Days glittered in the sorrel,
and smelled of wine-cork.
Just under the form and beauty of this poem are two things I find interesting in "Summer". First, the use of the prime triangular number (3) in distinct groups which mirror the trinity of Christianity. This concept gets replaced by the commune and governmental atheism. Muse mentions what may be a comment (opinion) of/on the new regime ..."And once you got the point,/that's how the gentry's decrees smelled:/of brotherhood, equality." If "gentry" is anywhere close to an accurate translaion, it critisizes party officials and the collective in general as just another form of aristocracy. I take the "wine-cork" reference as another indirect critique implying that the people will get the aroma of wine but not the wine itself. This would all depend on the translation being somewhat literal.
Quasi I have noticed the triangular number three in many of Pasternak's poems. I almost mentioned it in a number of places. But you are quite right.Quote:
Originally Posted by quasimodo1
That's a fascinating thought and I must go back and see for myself. Unfortunately I have to run out in a few minutes but perhaps tonight. :)Quote:
This concept gets replaced by the commune and governmental atheism. Muse mentions what may be a comment (opinion) of/on the new regime ..."And once you got the point,/that's how the gentry's decrees smelled:/of brotherhood, equality." If "gentry" is anywhere close to an accurate translaion, it critisizes party officials and the collective in general as just another form of aristocracy. I take the "wine-cork" reference as another indirect critique implying that the people will get the aroma of wine but not the wine itself. This would all depend of the translation be somewhat literal.
I don't know if he's after suggesting the trinity. Many writers strive for either a dupal rhythm or a triangular, as you nicely call it, rhythm. Dupal rhythms suggesting duality (as in DH Lawrence) or balance and harmony (as in Samual Johnson). Writers that strive for a triple rhythm many times are striving to fill in, complete, as if it's one or two words don't capture the entire meaning and that one more word will complete the sense. Sometimes a writer uses the triple rhythm to trangulate. Virgiia Woolf does that often I've noticed. Now what the triangle suggests may be different for each writer. It is possible that a Christian writer is out to suggest the trinity. There is a religious sense in some of Pastenak's poetry.Quote:
Originally Posted by quasimodo1
I agree. I think "gentry" is ironic and Pasternak equates their decrees of brotherhood and equality with the smell of dust and wet weeds. That's hardly an endorsement.Quote:
This concept gets replaced by the commune and governmental atheism. Muse mentions what may be a comment (opinion) of/on the new regime ..."And once you got the point,/that's how the gentry's decrees smelled:/of brotherhood, equality." If "gentry" is anywhere close to an accurate translaion, it critisizes party officials and the collective in general as just another form of aristocracy. I take the "wine-cork" reference as another indirect critique implying that the people will get the aroma of wine but not the wine itself. This would all depend on the translation being somewhat literal.
"Writers that strive for a triple rhythm many times are striving to fill in, complete, as if it's one or two words don't capture the entire meaning and that one more word will complete the sense. Sometimes a writer uses the triple rhythm to triangulate." This point, Virgil, is an accuracy I missed and so true ...it eclipses the religious trinity concept for sure. And it is obvious in this poem, as in Zhivago, that Pasternak is disenthralled with the new collective.
Virgil, do you think you could PM me the poem you're talking about? I'm finding this all a little confusing with the chopped up poetry bits and missing stanzas.
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Science and art have that in common that everyday things seem to them new and attractive. - Friedrich Nietzsche
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Lessons of English
When Desdemona sang a ditty-
In her last hours among the living-
It wasn't love that she lamented,
And not her star-she mourned a willow.
When Desdemona started singing,
With tears near choking off her voice,
Her evil demon for her evil day
Stored up of weeping rills a choice.
And when Ophelia sang a ballad-
In her last hours among the living-
All dryness of her soul was carried
Aloft by gusts of wind, like cinders.
The day Ophelia started singing,
By bitterness of daydreams jaded,
What trophies did she clutch, when sinking?
A bunch of buttercups and daisies.
Their shoulders stripped of passion's tatters,
They took, their hearts a-quake with fear,
The Universe's chilly baptism-
To stun their loving forms with spheres.
1917
Translated by Raissa Bobrova
{quote not included in original text}
Oh that is a nice one Qasi. I will need to study it some and get back.
This is the key to the poem. I understand those first three lines - life's passions drown in cosmic indifference, but that last line I can't quite comprehend. Are they now among the heavens?Quote:
Originally Posted by quasimodo1
Have to say that last line mystifies me as well; the key to the poem I think is the mythology mentioned earlier. A little research might unlock this line. ...
I think the poem rests on the irony of the song - it is tragic yet comical, the phrase for Ophelia especially, Ballad, implies to me a sort of base roughness, a sort of post-modern, if I can use that term, dark laughter at one's own misfortunes and insignificance. I think the term you used Virgil, "Cosmic indifference" is a good one.
I think, personally the poem marks the point when one simply gives up, and doesn't care anymore. The taking of one's life by the end for Ophelia seems more of a sick, perverse joke than anything else. There is no holiness, or romance about it. I think the poem emphasizes the point when they just simply surrender, not caring anymore, and taking the unknown as a sort of joke in itself. The romance ends, the point of life is lost, and death is but a last verse in a song of jokes.
nice poem keep posting again I am waiting for your next poem
Thanks and good luck
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T shirts printing
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With Oars at Rest
A boat is beating in the breast of the lake.
Willows hang over, tickling and kissing
Neckline and knuckles and rowlocks-O wait,
This could have happened to anyone, listen!
This could be used in a song, to beguile.
This then would mean-the ashes of lilac,
Richness of dew-drenched and crushed camomile,
Bartering lips for a start after twilight.
{first two stanzas...for the rest of the poem... http://www.friends-partners.org/frie...ak/arsest.html }
I think it's safe to say this discussion is dead?