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Sasha's poetry corner
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Mikalina



Joined: 03 May 2011
Posts: 106
Location: Iraq

PostPosted: Sun Mar 18, 2012 6:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Art for art's sake? Or art as a commodity? What makes you cry? What can happen to you to prevent you from ever crying again?

To an Artist

Your work that to my inward sight still comes,
Fruit of your graced labours:
The gold of always-autumnal limes,
The blue of today-created waters-

Simply to think of it, the faintest drowse
Already has led me into your parks
Where, fearful of every turning, I lose
Consciousness in a trance, seeking your tracks.

Shall I go under this vault, transfigured by
The movement of your hand into a sky,
To cool my shameful heat?

There I shall become forever blessed,
There my burninig eyelids will find rest,
And I'll regain a gift I've lost - to weep.

Akhmatova (1924)

I'd give them this poem in Russian and for homework they would translate it into English. Translation is interpretation - we would then compare our poems and discuss why we chose a particular word - how it express what Akhmatova wanted to say. Sometimes (the best times), the poem didn't come out quite as the above translation does.

(I wanted to post a poem 2 hours ago, but when I got my books out, I got lost in reading poetry!!! Bliss.)
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Mon Apr 02, 2012 4:28 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

from 'The Edge of the World'

I release the earth and I imprison the skies. I fall down in order to stay faithful to
the light, in order to make the world ambiguous, fascinating, changeable, dangerous, in
order to announce the steps beyond.
The blood of the gods is still fresh on my clothes. A seagull's scream echoes
through my pages. Let me just pack up my words and leave.

Adonis
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Wed Apr 11, 2012 8:30 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Mikilina, as you can see, there is a heavy slant towards Anna's poetry on this thread. Perhaps it should be renamed Anna's poetry corner? Here's one I found while lost in books. Seems vaguely apt for teachers, and for students about to emigrate...IELTS certificate in hand.

Departure

Although this land is not my own,
I will remember its inland sea
and the waters that are so cold
the sand as white
as old bones, the pine trees
strangely red where the sun comes down.

I cannot say if it is our love,
or the day, that is ending.


Anna Akhmatova
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smithrn1983



Joined: 23 Jul 2010
Posts: 319
Location: Moscow

PostPosted: Sun Apr 15, 2012 10:35 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Working on a new piece, "The March of the TEFL Teachers". Feel free to add a verse of your own.

They're on their way to work, they are, hurrah! hurrah!
They've fought the Moscow crowds they have, hurrah! hurrah!
They've explained the present perfect three times
Read everything in the Moscow Times
There's still one group to teach at nine
Before they're off to have a pint
Said the tefl teacher "пойдем на пиво, давай!"
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Tue Apr 24, 2012 5:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

This one is good for conditionals and imperatives : )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1uX_B_Ow7s
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HK_GURU



Joined: 17 Nov 2011
Posts: 26

PostPosted: Tue Apr 24, 2012 6:49 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I would like to dedicate this to you Sasha;

The Genius Of The Crowd by Charles Bukowski



there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Tue Apr 24, 2012 8:53 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

A fine compliment, HK_GURU, thank you.

Bukowski: a man, and a lifestyle, after my own heart, hic!
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Thu May 10, 2012 11:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1I4Dd7frDN8
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Fri May 11, 2012 5:14 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ottoman Lyric Poetry

Nâilî

What witch are you, that entangles our hearts
in your curls?
You are a gazelle who sets traps in the holy sanctuary
of the Kaaba

Your lashes are Tatar soldiers, and you the warlord,
Hulagu
Your reign has ravaged the country of the spirit,
the Baghdad of the heart

Both Hizir and Jesus have sacrified themselves
to the water of life of your lip
You are the drink of water for which the soul
of Alexander thirsts

Oh my love, my sun, you are the adornment of the nine
gardens of the skies
You cannot be compared to the beloved's cheek,
you are the wild rose that blooms alone

Oh, Nâilî, the beloved's brows scowl
with anger
When you say of her mouth, it is as fine
as the tip of her curl

Translated by Walter G Andrews
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Sun May 13, 2012 5:44 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Defeat

Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness;
You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs,
And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory.
Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance,
Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot
And not to be trapped by withering laurels.
And in you I have found aloneness
And the joy of being shunned and scorned.
Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield,
In your eyes I have read
That to be enthroned is to be enslaved,
And to be understood is to be leveled down,
And to be grasped is but to reach one's fullness
And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed.
Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion,
You shall hear my songs and my cries an my silences,
And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings,
And urging of seas,
And of mountains that burn in the night,
And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul.
Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage,
You and I shall laugh together with the storm,
And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us,
And we shall stand in the sun with a will,
And we shall be dangerous.


Kahlil Gibran
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Sat Jun 02, 2012 6:34 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

‘There is no need for words’

There is no need for words:
nothing must be heard.
How sad, and fine,
an animal’s dark mind.

Nothing it must make heard:
it has no use for words,
a young dolphin, plunging, steep,
along the world’s grey deep.

Osip Mandelstam

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiZroFCQBpM
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Fri Jun 08, 2012 9:25 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Too long to be posted, but here is a link to The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. For anyone who feels shackled to the classroom this summer, just remember that things could always take a decided turn for the worst...


http://www.enotes.com/rime-ancient-mariner-text/the-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner


And a video of same, with Orson Welles!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EpuaCaPML8
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Sashadroogie



Joined: 17 Apr 2007
Posts: 8607
Location: Moskva, The Workers' Paradise

PostPosted: Fri Jun 15, 2012 7:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Смычок и струны

Какой тяжелый, темный бред!
Как эти выси мутно-лунны!
Касаться скрипки столько лет
И не узнать при свете струны!

Кому ж нас надо? Кто зажег
Два желтых лика, два унылых...
И вдруг почувствовал смычок,
Что кто-то взял и кто-то слил их.

"О, как давно! Свкозь эту тьму
Скажи одно: ты та ли, та ли?"
И струны ластились к нему,
Звеня, но, ластясь, трепетали.

"Не правда ль, больше никогда
Мы не расстанемся? довольно..."
И скрипка отвечала да,
Но сердцу скрипки было больно.

Смычок все понял, он затих,
А в скрипке эхо все держалось...
И было мукою для них,
Что людям музыкой казалось.

Но человек не погасил
До утра свеч... И струны пели...
Лишь солнце их нашло без сил
На черном бархате постели.


Bow and Strings

What heavy, dark delirium!
What dim and moonlit heights!
To touch the violin for years
And not to know the strings by light!

Who needs us now? And who lit up
Two hollow, melancholy faces...
And suddenly the bow felt
Someone take them up, unite them.

"How long it's been! Amidst this gloom
Just tell me this: are you still the same?"
The strings caressed the bow,
Rang out, caressed it slightly trembling.

"Is it not true, that we will never more
Be parted. It's enough..."
Yes, replied the violin,
But pain was throbbing in her heart.

The bow discerned it and grew mute,
The echo still continued in the violin...
What was a torture to them both
The people heard as music.

But the violinist didn't snuff
The candles out 'til dawn...The strings sang on...
The sun found them worn out
On the black velvet of their bed.

Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
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artemisia



Joined: 04 Nov 2008
Posts: 867
Location: the world

PostPosted: Fri Jun 22, 2012 6:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Invictus (1875)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FozhZHuAcCs
Read by Morgan Freeman
http://www.cummingsstudyguides.net/Guides7/Invictus.html
Some teaching ideas
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invictus
Meaning of poem discussed
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johnslat



Joined: 21 Jan 2003
Posts: 12021
Location: Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA

PostPosted: Fri Jun 22, 2012 12:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Dear artemisia,

"Invictus" always makes me think of this poem - though I much prefer "Invictus."


Excelsior

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, ‘mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!

“Try not the Pass!” the old man said;
“Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!”
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!

“O stay,” the maiden said, “and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!”
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But steel he answered with a sigh,
Excelsior!

“Beware the pine tree’s withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!”
This was the peasant’s last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!

At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!

A traveler, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Sill grasping in his hand of ice
The banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Regards,
John
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