Poetry Bookclub 2

[Virgil]

@ Virgil's post. I will have to depend on quasi's or Petrarch's charity (ouch) until I can see what the main branch could do for me.

I could email them, but the glitch there is my card expired in February, and I have, oddly, not treked over because I have too much reading in my own collection.

I could buy Montale just as I've bought Tate, but I am going to overwhelm myself if I get stupid on a spree just now. Hoping on early next week for a more real than virtual journey.

I think we're all a delightful riot, at that.

If it's not too ong, and many of the poems don't seem that long, I can type them out and email it to you Jozy. Maybe we can take turns typing out a poem for you.

[Jozanny]

If it's not too ong, and many of the poems don't seem that long, I can type them out and email it to you Jozy. Maybe we can take turns typing out a poem for you.

Not if it is too much work mon ami. I think quasi has a system of some sort where he would just pm me copy, not sure--but in this instance, I actually desire a visit to Vine. I have done some research there in humanities, and the librarians seem to love me for putting them to work...but that is another issue.

I do appreciate it.

[Virgil]

Not if it is too much work mon ami. I think quasi has a system of some sort where he would just pm me copy, not sure--but in this instance, I actually desire a visit to Vine. I have done some research there in humanities, and the librarians seem to love me for putting them to work...but that is another issue.

I do appreciate it.

We'll get you the poem my dear. I guess no one has picked one yet.

[stlukesguild]

I suppose we may begin with Montale's Mediterranean. As I mentioned earlier it is a suite composed of nine sections. I will begin with section 8 ("If only I could force...")

If only I could force
some fragment of your ecstasy
into this clumsy music of mine;
had I the talent to match your voices
with my stammering speech-
I who once dreamed of acquiring
those salt-sea words of yours
where nature fuses with art-
and with your vast language proclaim the sadness
of an aging boy who shouldn't have learned to think.
But moldy dictionary words
are all I have, and that voice of mystery
dictated by love grows faint,
turns literary, elegaic.
All I have are these words,
that like public women,
offer themselves to any takers;
all I have are these clichés
which student rabble might tomorrow steal
in real poetry.
And your booming grows, and the blue
of the fresh shadow widens.
My thoughts fail, they leave me.
I have no sense, no senses. No limit.

from Mediterranean, tr. William Arrowsmith

Potessi almeno costringere
in questo mio ritmo stento
qualche poco del tuo vaneggiamento;
dato mi fosse accordare
alle tue voci il mio balbo parlare: -
io che sognava rapirti
le salmastre parole
in cui natura ed arte si confondono,
per gridar meglio la mia malinconia
di fanciullo invecchiato che non doveva pensare.
Ed invece non ho che le lettere fruste
dei dizionari, e l'oscura
voce che amore detta s'affioca,
si fa lamentosa letteratura.
Non ho che queste parole
che come donne pubblicate
s'offrono a chi le richiede;
non ho che queste frasi stancate
che potranno rubarmi anche domani
gli studenti canaglie in versi veri.
Ed il tuo rombo cresce, e si dilata
azzurra l'ombra nuova.
M'abbandonano a prova i miei pensieri.
Sensi non ho; né senso. Non ho limite.

There is a long tradition of poets bemoaning the fact that they cannot live up to the examples of their predecessors. Even Dante makes such declarations. I cannot help but think of Bloom's "anxiety of influence"... not so much in a Freudian aesthetic Oedipal sense... but more along the lines of the very real insecurity that any artist feels in comparison with his or her idols. I also cannot help but think of Eliot's seminal essay, The Tradition and the Individual Talent.

Montale has a stated goal of transcending (if not surpassing) the great Italian tradition which he feels has become flabby... mannered... effete. Yet confronting this great tradition... perhaps the entire Mediterranean tradition... he cannot help but feel a bit overmatched: Homer, Virgil, Dante, Petrarch, Leopardi. Against such figures he but stammers with a "clumsy music". Against the "sea-salt words... where nature fuses with art" he has but "moldy dictionary words"... against the very real spirituality... faith... the "mystery dictated by love..." (or perhaps even in contrast to the stoic atheism of Leopardi... or Lucretius) he has something grown faint... "literary".

Just throwing out some initial thoughts to get the ball rolling. I would be especially interested in JBI's and Petrarch's take on the original Italian... How does Montale's striving for a greater muscularity within a language that is so innately feminine... musical... fluidly poetic... read?

[Virgil]

Jozy, that is the entire poem. StLukes has done the typing.

I'm off to bed to read it.

[JBI]

A quick read shows Almeno translated as only, though I think it would be more fitting, in terms of intention, to translate it as "at least", which seems to carry more of the connotation of "at best". Just a few minor pickings, I'd have to scan the poem with my dictionary to come up with other ones, but I thought they may be helpful for trying to understand the poem. The translation feels relatively loose, in comparison to the poem (though I confess, Arrowsmith's Italian is 100x better than mine) and seeks to establish itself as a "feel" translation, rather than a meaning translation. Also, the lines don't really follow each other, and seem to be re-ordered in translation to fit English grammar, and pragmatics better. Since, I guess, Montale has enjambed the first little bit significantly, Arrowsmith must have felt it necessary to play around with the order and feel of the words accordingly.

I leave it for tomorrow to make comparisons, though if you wouldn't mind, St. Lukes, could you perhaps post the same cutting from your second translation of the work, so as to compare?

As for the meaning, I think he is more talking about the naturalness, verses the cultivation. He seems to think his predecessors possessed a more natural, and less schooled command of what they were doing, their sea-salt fusion of nature and art, as he put it, whereas he is confined to the "academic" the old dictionaries, with their old clichés. His ending however, is rather difficult, since he seems to almost Whitmanize himself, in the sense that he abandons sense for the natural, a meaning which is instinctive rather than cultivated, not based on sense I.E. tradition, but on nature.

[mortalterror]

If only I could force
some fragment of your ecstasy
into this clumsy music of mine;
had I the talent to match your voices
with my stammering speech-
-Montale's Mediterranean, tr. William Arrowsmith

Hecuba: If by some magic, some gift of the gods, I could become all speech- tongues in my arms, hands that talked, voices speaking, crying from my hair and feet - then, all together, as one voice, I would fall and touch your knees, crying, begging, imploring with a thousand tongues - O master, greatest light of Hellas, hear me, help an old woman, avenge her! She is nothing at all, but hear her, help her even so. Do your duty as a man of honor: see justice done. Punish this murder.- Euripides' Hecuba, tr. William Arrowsmith

If I had
A hundred tongues, a hundred mouths, a voice
Of iron, I could not tell of all the shapes
Their crimes had taken, or their punishments.
-lines 835-838, Book VI, Virgil's Aeneid, tr. Fitzgerald

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue
In every wound of Caesar that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
-Julius Caesar Act 3 sc. II, Shakespeare

[Dark Muse]

I cannot concentrate too much right now. But the verse is beautiful, I just love the use of langauge within the poem. It has some absolutely wonderful lines. And the word choice is subpurb. If I tried to quote specific lines I would probably end up reposting almost the entire poem.

[JBI]

Hmm, I think I feel also, a little reverence for Leopardi in particular, especially around the parts with natural language, and natural feelings. That very much was the purpose of much of Leopardi's work, to create a natural poetics, one devoid of fancy nostalgic moments, and soft flowery language. I think perhaps Montale may be playing on that, to some extent, though perhaps he is alluding to Petrarch and Dante, the two obvious predecessors, amongst others. In truth though, I think, not from Virgil or Euripedes Montale got his stance, but from a strange reading of Song of Myself (I may be wrong, as I don't know at which time he read Leaves of Grass, though I know he read it, and was influenced it at some point in his life). I know he studied foreign languages as a youth, and it seems likely that he would have read Whitman, as many of his contemporary poets (Campana comes to mind first) were doing. I don't know - I'd need a biography to prove he read it, but under that assumption, I can feel Whitmanian tones running through the whole work.

[Virgil]

I think one needs to read all nine of the Mediterranian poems as a whole. They are a cohesive group. I did not really find any individual poem all that spectacular, but as a grooup the do have a certain beauty. They are somewhat interconnected, but my real first impression is that they are along the lines of individual mosaics that make up a composite. They are almost a collection of pansies of a field of flowers, to use an allusion to Pascal.

The central theme of the group is the contrast between himself and the sea.

[stlukesguild]

Virgil... I agree that there is the experiential aspect of the poet and the sea... the coast... the Mediterranean... The artist frustrated by his stuttering inability to compete with the experience of reality... nature? Still I also cannot help but sense the Mediterranean also stands for the tradition against which/within which the poet is working... seeking to develop his own language. I don't dispute JBI's sensing Whitman... but I am certain of his awareness and admiration of Eliot... who was himself deeply marked by Whitman. The notion of comparing ones self and the present with the past need not be limited to an artist/author's feeling of having been born too late, but also may convey a sense of a lost innocence... a lost naturalism... a lost spirituality (much of which is equally conveyed in Eliot's work).

Here is Gallassi's translation per JBI's request:

If at least I could force
some small part of your raving
into this halting rhythm;
if I could harmonize
my stammer with your voices-
I, who dreamed of stealing
your briny words
where art and nature fuse,
the better to shout out the sadness
of an aging boy who shouldn't have been thinking.
But all I have are threadbare
dictionary letters
and the dark voice love dictates
goes hoarse, becomes whining writing.
All I have are these words
which prostitute themselves
to anyone who asks;
only these tired out phrases
the student rabble can steal tomorrow
to make real poetry.
And your roaring rises,
the new shadow waxes blue.
My ideas desert me at the test.
I have no sense and no sense. No limit.

I personally prefer Arrowsmith's translation and I especially prefer the manner in which he deals with the phrase donne pubblicate... "published women"... a euphemism for prostitutes. Arrowsmith's translation as public women strikes me a closer to capturing the double meaning of the original.

[Jozanny]

Just throwing out some initial thoughts to get the ball rolling. I would be especially interested in JBI's and Petrarch's take on the original Italian... How does Montale's striving for a greater muscularity within a language that is so innately feminine... musical... fluidly poetic... read?

With cudos to you and Bly luke, and quasi's nice pdf posting shows that Bly has been bemoaning emasculation long before I knew of his reputation, what do you mean by *greater muscularity?* Can you define your terms with more precision?

I am not ready to analyze Montale on the few samples of Arrowsmith I've read, not just yet. I'd like to focus and call my father and see if he will help me with Montale in Italian. That being said, there is no question Dante hits the pavement with a decent pair of stones, at least in terms of lacking humility. It has also been quite a while since I have paid Petrarca any homage, but I do not see much machismo in the Arrowsmith Xenia. I cannot pretend I have the authority to upend Bly, since I am a man-girl as opposed to a tamed husband-man, but I do not think vitality is the sole province of testosterone.

[stlukesguild]

what do you mean by *greater muscularity?* Can you define your terms with more precision?

Coming on the heels of the art pour l'art era, a great deal of the art and poetry at the tail end of the 19th century and the early 20th century revels in the overly sweet... romantic... florid. In painting one might think of the Pre-Raphaelites. In poetry one might think of the worst excesses of Swinburne, Rossetti, Tennyson ... and their lesser followers. In Italy of the time of Montale's early efforts at poetry, the poetic world was seemingly dominated by French Symbolism and the almost mythical figure of Gabriele D'Annunzio. A great deal of the poetry of the era... as seen by Montale... was overly extravagant... florid... grandiloquent... or sweetly poetic. To this one might add the fact that Montale felt a degree of discomfort with what he imagined to be the very nature of the Italian language... with its excess of vowel-endings and the ease of rhyme (as opposed to the harder sounds of English and the comparative difficulty of rhyme). Again... like Eliot... Montale expressed a desire to break away from flowery language... the stereotypical sweet and elegant language of the "superior dilettantism" and the bric-a-brac wrapped in "a sumptuous négligé cloak"(as Montale phrased it): "I waned to wring the neck of the eloquence of our old aulic language, even at the risk of a counter-eloquence." The Arrowsmith translation suggests a sort of simplified... pared-down classicism... a limited use of florid adjectives/adverbs. Of course one would need a mastery of both Italian and of Italian literary history... especially a solid knowledge of the poets immediately prior to Montale... to offer a real solid analysis of how his poetry differs in terms of muscularity from the poetry prior.

[Petrarch's Love]

Just had a spare moment to read the Bly, and the part of the poem as posted by St. Luke's. I may get more out of it when I have a chance to see the other parts, since I forgot once again to pick up the book at the library today (you can blame it on the discovery of an exquisite little 15th century Book of Hours in our Special collections holdings this afternoon).


As for the Montale, the sound of the original is remarkably eloquent. I don't know that I would quite describe his style as "muscular," not only because of the sinuous, vowel ladden qualities of the Italian language, but because there's such a smoothness to the sound of his verse. It certainly, however, has a backbone to it, and a certain sharp, incisive quality. There's no sense of overly supple flowery language here and a lot of control. Though, as with all translation, much of the music and some of the layered sense is inevitably lost, Arrowsmith's translation does a pretty darn good job I think of conveying a sense of the poem, though as JBI pointed out, possibly at a slight cost to exact meaning. There are certain words that simply aren't going to come out right in English: the "veri versi" of line 20 lose their alliteration in the "real poetry" of the translation; the masterly feeling of "salmastre" doesn't quite come through in the English "sea-salt"; as St. Luke's has pointed out, the double play in "pubblicate" forces a choice on the translator that guarantees a loss of meaning. Most notably, the English "ecstasy," much as I think it's the best word for the job and wonderfully effective in the English, doesn't entirely capture either the raving quality or the open, expansive, quality of "vaneggiamento." On the other hand, I like the way Arrowsmith preserves some of the effect of the syntactical order in places, which is often a problem in translation. For example, here:

...that voice of mystery
dictated by love grows faint,
turns literary, elegaic.

I like the preservation of the "turns literary, elegaic" in one line, mirroring the transforming enjambment of "si fa lamentosa letteratura" which puts an emphasis on the way his poetic voice becomes something other, less forceful, than what he envisioned. Not all translators pay that kind of close attention to that sort of nuanced effect. In other places, of course, he does change the syntax around, not always to the best effect, but I do like the way he fronts the "moldy dictionary words," giving them a position of more emphasis than in the original (while not a direct translation of "fruste" I think "moldy," especially as colloquially paired with dictionary, works well in English).

Just a few starting impressions. Based on this snippet I think I'm going to enjoy Montale. I'll comment a bit later about my reactions to the content of the poem.

[JBI]

Petrarch, how do you translate the word "balbo"? I can't find it in my dictionary, and I am curious as to how it translates.