"A song of drunkards whose throats will be cut in a moment,"
I like that
KS
On 08/07/07, Halvard Johnson <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Friends and neighbors--
>
> For a second mini-anthology of poems, this time inspired by/
> responding to/related to
> Czeslaw Milosz's poem "Dedication" and/or the various wars/
> insurgencies/etc. going
> on in the world today, please send 1-6 poems to me at
> [log in to unmask] with the
> words "Big Bridge" followed by your own name clearly in the subject
> line. Please,
> when sending attachments, send all poems in a single attachment.
>
> This mini-anthology (approx. 30 poems) will appear in the January
> issue of Big Bridge,
> and I'll consider submissions of work received before the end of
> November.
>
> Halvard Johnson
> ================
> [log in to unmask]
> http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard/index.html
> http://entropyandme.blogspot.com
> http://imageswithoutwords.blogspot.com
> http://www.hamiltonstone.org
> http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard/vidalocabooks.html
>
>
>
> Dedication
>
> You whom I could not save
> Listen to me.
> Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another.
> I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words.
> I speak to you with silence like a cloud or a tree.
>
> What strengthened me, for you was lethal.
> You mixed up farewell to an epoch with the beginning of a new one,
> Inspiration of hatred with lyrical beauty,
> Blind force with accomplished shape.
>
> Here is the valley of shallow Polish rivers. And an immense bridge
> Going into white fog. Here is a broken city,
> And the wind throws the screams of gulls on your grave
> When I am talking with you.
>
> What is poetry which does not save
> Nations or people?
> A connivance with official lies,
> A song of drunkards whose throats will be cut in a moment,
> Readings for sophomore girls.
> That I wanted good poetry without knowing it,
> That I discovered, late, its salutary aim,
> In this and only this I find salvation.
>
> They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds
> To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds.
> I put this book here for you, who once lived
> So that you should visit us no more.
>
> --Czeslaw Milosz, Warsaw, 1945
>
|