POETRY
I only fully recognised a liking for poetry when I considered describing my favourite things on this website. In making this list, I must add that I am not someone who goes out of his way to find and read publications containing poems. The items I have chosen can all be linked to personal events or interests. Nevertheless, I feel these selections – in part in foreign languages – reflect well my experiences and outlook in life. Isn’t this what poetry is supposed to do?
- Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard by Thomas Gray
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
This poem – known as "Gray's Elegy" – continues for another 25 verses plus an epitaph. It is most commonly abbreviated to the above four verses, although a following stanza contains the well-known quotation: “The paths of glory lead but to the grave”.
The poem was written in 1750 and is believed to be about the St Giles parish church in Stoke Poges, Buckinghamshire. I came across it when studying English Literature at school. I recall that our teacher asked us to write our own version of the above extract. If his objective was to highlight the exquisite choice of words and phrasing of the original, he succeeded. Even now, I would find it impossible to paraphrase the poem’s contents and yet retain the depicted ambiance.
- The Lobster-Quadrille by Lewis Carroll
'Will you walk a little faster?' said a whiting to a snail,
'There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle -- will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?
'You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!'
But the snail replied 'Too far, too far!' and gave a look askance --
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
'What matters it how far we go?' his scaly friend replied.
'There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France --
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you joint the dance?
I liked this poem, first encountered in my early teens, because it was simply ridiculous. Also known as the Mock Turtle’s Song, it appears in Lewis Carroll’s “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. The novel, written in 1865, appealed fully to my juvenile sense of humour. It does even now. I recently re-read the Lewis Carroll 'Alice' books online whilst on holiday; the magic was still there.
It can be argued that his books were a precursor of the anarchic style of comedy which was to follow almost a century later from people such as Spike Milligan, the Goons and Monty Python’s Flying Circus. And I loved all these purveyors of humour. [Apologies to any reader for whom these names are unfamiliar; I thoroughly recommend a search of their material to illustrate my point].
- Die Lorelei by Heinrich Heine
Ich weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten,
Dass ich so traurig bin;
Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.
Although not a long poem, only twenty-four lines long, it is this first verse which I remember particularly. My translation is given below:
I don’t know what it means,
That I am so sad,
A fairy tale from olden times,
Will not go out of my mind.
This poem, retelling a fairy story about the Lorelei rocks on the river Rhein, was written by poet Heinrich Heine in 1824. It narrates how seafarers were lured to their death there by a beautiful maiden who, sitting on the rocks, would divert their attention by singing and combing her golden hair.
When I was given this as one of my German ‘A’ Level GCE set texts to study, my tutor told me the following story which made it so memorable for me:
In the late 1960s the far-right party won seats in regional by-elections in West Germany. On the front page of the following morning’s issue of the Daily Telegraph, the paper’s political cartoonist drew a picture of a man looking at a newspaper billboard showing the words “NEO-NAZIS WIN”. Underneath the cartoonist included the complete Lorelei verse starting “Ich weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten...“ He didn’t add a translation into English.
In my opinion, this has to be one of the cleverest political comments ever made by a cartoonist.
- Люблю тебя, Петра творенье/I love you Peter’s creation by Alexander Pushkin
Люблю тебя, Петра творенье,
Люблю твой строгий, стройный вид,
Невы державное теченье,
Береговой ее гранит,
I love you, Peter’s creation,
I love your stern, muscular look,
The Neva’s powerful current,
Its coastal granite.
The above is only an extract from the epic narrative poem “Медный всадник/The Bronze Horseman” written by Alexander Pushkin in 1833. Its subject matter is a statue of Peter the Great which still stands in St Petersburg.
The lines here are devoted to praise of the city Petersburg (“Peter’s creation”). In his far-reaching plans to make Russia a naval might, Peter the Great chose this as the location of his new port city. Originally it was just a barren, boggy marsh on the banks of the Neva river. This is alluded to in these few lines above, which just about every Russian can repeat with pride.
When spoken in the Russian language it has a most pleasing cadence. On the few times that I have recited this excerpt to native speakers, I received a consistently delighted response. Such things make the learning worthwhile.
- Love Minus Zero No Limit by Bob Dylan
My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence.
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
And make promises by the hours.
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.
When Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2016, the choice was highly controversial. Not all agreed with this decision. His award states “for having created new poetic expression within the great American song tradition". I continue this argument by selecting the lyrics from the first verse of one his lesser known songs as a poetry item here.
I still believe that this is one of his strongest love songs. I admired these lyrics so much that, when in the RAF, I once copied them word for word in a letter to my girlfriend, without attributing them to Bob Dylan. When I next came home on leave, I was presented with a gift-wrapped copy of his “Bringing It All Back Home” LP record by her without comment. Side I, track 4 is “Love Minus Zero No Limit”. I suppose that you can fool some of the people some of the time, but not all of the people all of the time.
And, yes, the then girlfriend became my first wife. Ten years later, when the marriage ended in divorce, I took solace in the words of another Bob Dylan composition “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”.
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