Unseasonably warm today and in the last 24 hours I have been glancing at Robert Lowell's poems again.
Important never to throw books away. I bought a selected poems of his in 1983 when I was working in Casio warehouse hefting boxes for a living. Hated the poems then, but 20 years later I find I'm really enjoying them. One poem loosened my socks on the tube this morning. On surfing I discovered it was ""Rima LIII" by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870), a Sevillian post-Romantic writer whose lyric verse was published in book form as Rimas a year after his death". Apparently this is a Bad Thing. But Lowell's reinterpretation is knockout -- and if Yeats could do it with When you are old, don't see why the boy Lowell can't do this. It almost edges into cheesey but manages to pull it off...
Will Not Come Back
(Volveran)
Dark swallows will doubtless come back killing
the injudicious nightflies with a clack of the beak:
but these that stopped full flight to see your beauty
and my good fortune... as if they knew our names--
they'll not come back. The thick lemony honeysuckle,
climbing from the earthroot to your window,
will open more beautiful blossoms to the evening;
but these... like dewdrops, trembling, shining, falling,
the tears of day--they'll not come back...
Some other love will sound his fireword for you
and wake your heart, perhaps, from its cool sleep;
but silent, absorbed, and on his knees,
as men adore God at the altar, as I love you--
don't blind yourself, you'll not be loved like that.
So that was the journey into work. Work itself not too bad. Have sore throat and so a bit draggy. However had a beer at lunchtime with the boy Andy by the river in the sun, and this was a profoundly a good thing, although my mobile kept going off and we had to return quickly. Still getting to know Andy. I just think he's a top guy -- and the best art director I have worked with. Shame slogging on junkmail gets in the way.
Important never to throw books away. I bought a selected poems of his in 1983 when I was working in Casio warehouse hefting boxes for a living. Hated the poems then, but 20 years later I find I'm really enjoying them. One poem loosened my socks on the tube this morning. On surfing I discovered it was ""Rima LIII" by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870), a Sevillian post-Romantic writer whose lyric verse was published in book form as Rimas a year after his death". Apparently this is a Bad Thing. But Lowell's reinterpretation is knockout -- and if Yeats could do it with When you are old, don't see why the boy Lowell can't do this. It almost edges into cheesey but manages to pull it off...
Will Not Come Back
(Volveran)
Dark swallows will doubtless come back killing
the injudicious nightflies with a clack of the beak:
but these that stopped full flight to see your beauty
and my good fortune... as if they knew our names--
they'll not come back. The thick lemony honeysuckle,
climbing from the earthroot to your window,
will open more beautiful blossoms to the evening;
but these... like dewdrops, trembling, shining, falling,
the tears of day--they'll not come back...
Some other love will sound his fireword for you
and wake your heart, perhaps, from its cool sleep;
but silent, absorbed, and on his knees,
as men adore God at the altar, as I love you--
don't blind yourself, you'll not be loved like that.
So that was the journey into work. Work itself not too bad. Have sore throat and so a bit draggy. However had a beer at lunchtime with the boy Andy by the river in the sun, and this was a profoundly a good thing, although my mobile kept going off and we had to return quickly. Still getting to know Andy. I just think he's a top guy -- and the best art director I have worked with. Shame slogging on junkmail gets in the way.
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