Seamus Heaney - Digging Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee…
Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
331–340 of 369 posts
Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#332Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#333Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#334For me it's Sir John Betjeman. Very English of course. But... A man on his own in a car Is revenging himself on his wife; He open the throttle and bubbles with dottle and puffs at his pitiful life She's losing her looks very fast, she loses her temper all day; that lorry won't let me get past, this Mini is blocking my way. "Why can't you step on it and shift her! I can't go on crawling like this! At breakfast she sai…
Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#335Unfortunately, the English translations are not really as moving as Russian originals.
Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#336 The lives of small men are like spiders' webs;
they are studded with minute skeletons of greatness.
Excerpt from House of Hunger
THE BAR-STOOL EDIBLE WORM I’m against everything
Against war and those against
War. Against whatever diminishes
Th’ individual’s blind impulse.
Shake the peaches down from
The summer poem, Rake in ripe
Luminosity; dust; taste. Lunchtime
News – pass the Castor Oil, Alice.
THERE’S A DISSIDENT IN THE ELECTION SOUP! I have no ear for slogans
You may as well shut up your arse
I run when it’s I LOVE YOU time
Don’t say it I’ll stick around
I run when it’s A LUTA time
I run when it’s FORWARD time
Don’t say it we’ll fuck the whole night
The moon won’t come down
At first awkwardly, excruciatingly embarrassing
But with Venus ascending, a shout and leap of joy
When the sheets are at last silent
Don’t ask “What are you thinking?”
Don’t ask “Was it good?”
Don’t feel bad because I’m smoking
They ask and feel bad who are insecure
Who say after the act “Tell me a story”
And you may as well know
Don’t talk of “MARRIAGE” if this reconciliation
is to last.
SHOCK: FOR BETTINA Like meteorites, through my long
Isolated heart-atmosphere, you
Burst incandescent over my platinum history.
My future in earthquake reeled; my present only on
Seismograph could point to the cataclysm – no
Evidence of you attached to my stone and flesh,
Only nightmarish passions which I can still hear
When you shake your head. Shake it vigorously.
Nuclear tests of underground love!Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#337Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#338Neruda is my favourite. I want to do to you , what the spring does to the cherry trees. Here's another one Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. How he is able construct such powerful verse out of simple words and concepts always blows me away. Though it looks easy I've never seen a good imitation of his style. Then there's this poem by Phillip Larkin that I like. They fu…
"I want to do to you , what the spring does to the cherry trees." I've never seen that in english, so I looked it up ( http://albalearning.com/audiolibros/neruda/poema14-sp-en.htm... ) I guess it goes without saying, but english really doesn't do him justice, rhyming trees with kisses is pretty poor compared to cerizos and besos which is perfect rhyme. But I suppose poetry is about the most difficult thing to transla…
What is the best way to get into poetry more? Read a couple a day or something? I would actually really like to read Shakespeare, but most seem to be of the mind that you really need a class or something to really get the translation.
Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#339Jorge Luis Borges Edgar Allan Poe Jorge Manrique. This might be the less known so: http://users.ipfw.edu/jehle/POESIA/COPLASEN.HTM It doesn't sound the same in english, though :( And I can only add another vote for Neruda!
Everness, Jorge Luis Borges
One thing does not exist: Oblivion.
God saves the metal and he saves the dross,
And his prophetic memory guards from loss
The moons to come, and those of evenings gone.
Everything is: the shadows in the glass
Which, in between the day’s two twilights, you
Have scattered by the thousands, or shall strew
Henceforward in the mirrors that you pass.
And everything is part of that diverse
Crystalline memory, the universe;
Whoever through its endless mazes wanders
Hears door on door click shut behind his stride,
And only from the sunset’s farther side
Shall view at last the Archetypes and the Splendors.Re: Ask HN: Who are your favorite poets?
#340However, for sheer technical brilliance, perhaps a word should be said for the ElectroBard from Stanislaw Lem's Cyberiad, whose verbal virtuosity was such that when challenged:
“compose a poem- a poem about a haircut! But lofty, tragic, timeless, full of love, treachery, retribution, quiet heroism in the face of certain doom! Six lines, cleverly rhymed, and every word beginning with the letter S!!"
the response was instant:
Seduced, shaggy Samson snored.
She scissored short. Sorely shorn,
Soon shackled slave, Samson sighed,
Silently scheming
Sightlessly seeking
Some savage, spectacular suicide."
... and if you think that's good, just imagine how great it was before being translated into English! (By Michael Kandel iirc)