"Once by the Pacific" by Robert Frost

Everyman's Library

"Once by the Pacific" by Robert Frost

The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God's last Put out the Light was spoken.

*

In this provocative and thoughtful anthology, many voices join in illuminating the remarkably vast and varied American West. The verse collected here ranges from American Indian tribal poems to old folk songs like “The Streets of Laredo,” from country-western lyrics to the work of such foreign poets as Bertolt Brecht and Zbigniew Herbert. Here is the West in all its rich variety–the harsh life of farms and ranches; man’s destructive invasion into forest and desert solitudes; the bars and bistros of San Francisco and Hollywood; Pacific surf and endless highways; the ghost towns, the poverty, and the legendary world of cowpunchers and gunslingers. From Robert Frost’s “Once by the Pacific” to Charles Bukowski’s “Vegas,” from Fred Koller’s “Lone Star State of Mind” to Thom Gunn’s “San Francisco Streets”–the West is evoked in all its incarnations, both actual and mythic. READ an excerpt here: http://knopfdoubleday.com/…/113…/poems-of-the-american-west/

"The Albatross" by Charles Baudelaire

"The Albatross" by Charles Baudelaire

Sometimes for sport the men of loafing crews
Snare the great albatrosses of the deep,
The indolent companions of their cruise 
As through the bitter vastitudes they sweep.
Scarce have they fished aboard these airy kings
When helpless on such unaccustomed floors,
They piteously droop their huge white wings
And trail them at their sides like drifting oars.
How comical, how ugly, and how meek
Appears this soarer of celestial snows!
One, with his pipe, teases the golden beak,
One, limping, mocks the cripple as he goes.
The Poet, like this monarch of the clouds,
Despising archers, rides the storm elate.
But, stranded on the earth to jeering crowds,
The great wings of the giant baulk his gait.

*

Modern poetry begins with Charles Baudelaire (1821-67), who employed his unequalled technical mastery to create the shadowy, desperately dramatic urban landscape -- populated by the addicted and the damned -- which so compellingly mirrors our modern condition. Deeply though darkly spiritual, titanic in the changes he wrought, Baudelaire looms over all the work, great and small, created in his wake.

譯年糕

"Silence. A Sonnet" (1840) by Edgar Allan Poe

Everyman's Library

"Silence. A Sonnet" (1840) by Edgar Allan Poe

There are some qualities — some incorporate things
That have a double life — life aptly made,
The type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.

There is a two-fold Silence — sea and shore —
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o’ergrown. Some solemn graces
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless — his name’s “No More.”

He is the corporate Silence — dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate — untimely lot!
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
Who haunteth the dim regions where hath trod
No foot of man) — commend thyself to God!

*

This one-of-a-kind collection of poems about the American South ranges over four centuries of its dramatic history. The arc of poetry of the South, from slave songs to Confederate hymns to Civil War ballads, from Reconstruction turmoil to the Agrarian movement to the dazzling poetry of the New South, is richly varied and historically vibrant. No other region of the United States has been as mythologized as the South, nor contained as many fascinating, beguiling, and sometimes infuriating contradictions. Poems of the American South includes poems both by Southerners and by famous observers of the South who hailed from elsewhere. These range from Herman Melville, Walt Whitman, Edgar Allan Poe, and Francis Scott Key through Langston Hughes, Robert Penn Warren, Wallace Stevens, Elizabeth Bishop, James Dickey, and Donald Justice, and include a host of living poets as well: Wendell Berry, Rita Dove, Sandra Cisneros, Yusef Komunyakaa, Naomi Shihab Nye, C. D. Wright, Natasha Trethewey, and many more. Organized thematically, the anthology places poems from past centuries in fruitful dialogue with a diverse array of modern voices who are redefining the South with a verve that is reinvigorating American poetry as a whole. READ an excerpt here: http://knopfdoubleday.com/…/235…/poems-of-the-american-south

Hats off to poety of D. H. Lawrence

D.H. Lawrence

http://www.independent.ie/…/hats-off-to-poety-of-dh-lawrenc…

Hats off to poety of DH Lawrence

It's interesting that DH Lawrence should have written a religious poem such as the marvellous one below, Shadows, in which he declares his dependence on a Creator. Some of Lawrence's no

INDEPENDENT.IE

2010.4.20 昨天午讀

主要作者	Lawrence, D. H. (David Herbert), 1885-1930
書名/作者	The paintings of D. H. Lawrence
出版項	Tokyo : Hon-no-Tomosha, 1996

晚上續讀其作油畫之始( 25歲至45歲卒) 導言
譯 a. huxlery 談莎翁之一句

晨間讀 D. H. Lawrence 詩 收入
Paul Keegan主編的英詩選（New Penguin Book of English Verse (2000).）
的6-7首 很獨特 包括蚊 二首 一首談英國和他畫展被警局沒收之事

“Hope” is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson

MMO-Ensemble's "Western Mystery" inspired the poetry of Emily Dickinson...

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314) by Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

Hope (Emily Dickinson)

MMO-Ensemble "Western Mystery" poetry by Emily Dickinson music by Martin Myhre Olsen Siril Malmedal Hauge- vocals Martin Myhre Olsen- saxophone Kaja Fjellber...

YOUTUBE.COM

FRANKENSTEIN by Mary Shelley

Vintage Books & Anchor Books

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley died on this day in 1851 (aged 53). She is buried in the graveyard of St Peter's Church, Bournemouth, England.

"I am an unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relation or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I fail there, I am an outcast in the world forever."
--The monster to the blind man from FRANKENSTEIN by Mary Shelley

尼采Beyond Good and Evil)一書的卷末詩

hc：Hanching Chung 有意思：我手頭上有1972年企鵝版R. J. Hollingdale翻譯的 (pp.203-04: From High Mountain: Epode)，似乎比較簡潔。有空再抄錄。

長短句交替（英文：Epode）是一首奧德詩^{[注 1]}中的第三部分。該格律形式由品達等一些詩人確立^[2]。在古希臘，隨著合唱抒情詩的演變，新的詩歌形式應運而生，也就是長短句交替。^[3]

1. エポードス（エポドス、ギリシャ語：ἐπῳδός, epoidós, epi-（追加の）+oidé（歌）） - 古代ギリシアの頌歌を構成する3つの部分の1つ。ストロペー、アンティストロペーに続く3つめの結びの歌。

Epode, in verse, is the third part of an ode, which followed the strophe and the antistrophe, and completed the movement.

Epode - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epode

----

高塔

來自高山/歌餘(善惡之外(Beyond Good and Evil)一書的卷末詩)
－尼采
高塔 譯 2016

1.
噢！生命晌午，慶祝時刻
噢！夏日園圃
不安的幸福，站、望、等：－
我等朋友，晝夜迫不及待
你，朋友，你在哪裡？來，是時候，是時候

2.
對你來說，格雷冰川
今日不是戴著玫瑰花圈？
溪流正找你，風和雲
思念，今日將他們自己推向藍天
找你，從更遠的鳥瞰

3.
為你，我的桌子擺好，在最高點
誰住，離星這麼近
誰鄰，最偏遠，黯淡深淵
我的王土－哪片王土如此廣袤
而我的蜜－誰嘗遍？…

4.
就是你，我的朋友！唉，我不是那個人
不是你找的那個人
你遲疑，驚訝！－啊，你的憤怒吐出更多真言
我不再是那個人？變了，手、步伐和臉
我是誰？－對你，我不是那個朋友？

5.
我變成另一個人？我自個不認識的陌生人？
我從自己蹦出來？
摔角者，經常自摔？
對抗自己的力量，頻頻拉扯
受傷，為本身的勝利所挫

6.
我索居於風刮最冷？
我學習活在
無人住處，荒蕪冰地
忘記人與神，咀咒與禱詞？
變成冰川上的遊魂？

7.
你，老友！瞧！你的臉蒼然變白
充滿愛和恐懼
不，離開，不要憤怒，在這，你絕無活路
這裡，在冰與岩，最遠的王土之間
這裡，必須是獵人，像羚羊飛馳

8.
我已變成邪惡的獵人！看，多緊
我的弓拉
最強的男人，弓拉滿
大禍臨頭！危險的箭
無比危險－離開這裡！為自己安全

9.
你轉身就走嗎？－噢，心，你撐得夠久
你的信心很強
保持敞開，為你的新朋友
讓舊的走！讓記憶走
你曾經年青，現在－你甚至更年青

10.
什麼縛緊我們，一條希望的繫帶
誰讀那些符號
愛曾經深沁－依然慘淡？
我拿來與羊皮紙相比，手不敢
觸摸，像褪色，燒焦的頁面

11.
不再是朋友－他們是…但是我如何叫他們名字？
只是友善的遊魂
夜裡敲打我的窗櫺，我的心
注視我，並說，「但我們是朋友？」
－噢，乾癟的字，一度芬芳如玫瑰

12.
噢，昧於自知，年青人的渴盼
那些魂牽夢縈
我想像，已變成我自己的親人
他們已長大，已自我放逐
只有煥然改變的那個人，與我往來

13.
噢！生命晌午，二度青春
噢！夏日園圃
不安的幸福，站、望、等：－
我等朋友，晝夜迫不及待
你，朋友，你在哪裡？來，是時候，是時候

14.
歌已譜成－思念的甜蜜吶喊
淹沒於我的口：午時
法師施法，適時的朋友
午時朋友－不！不要問可能是誰
午時，一分為二

15.
現在我們慶祝，必勝，聯手
宴中之宴
查拉圖斯特拉到來，客中之客
現在世界粲笑，恐怖帷幔裂開
婚禮為光明和黑暗，到來

※
歌餘(Aftersong)是希臘的品達(Pidaric)頌體，包含一行長句，一行短句，以及一行結句，如楚辭的「亂」，惟在本詩中，尼采僅採其頌末之義，未泥於它的形式。

From High Mountains
Aftersong (Beyond Good and Evil)
-by Friedrich Nietzsche

1.
O noon of life! A time to celebrate!
Oh garden of summer!
Restless happiness in standing, gazing, waiting:—
I wait for friends, ready day and night.
You friends, where are you? Come! It's time! It's time!

2.
Was it not for you that the glacier's grayness
today decked itself with roses?
The stream is seeking you, and wind and clouds
with yearning push themselves higher into the blue today
to look for you from the furthest bird's eye view.

3.
For you my table has been set at the highest point.
Who lives so near the stars?
Who's so near the furthest reaches of the bleak abyss?
My realm—what realm has stretched so far?
And my honey—who has tasted that? ...

4.
There you are, my friends! —Alas, so I'm not the man,
not the one you're looking for?
You hesitate, surprised! —Ah, your anger would be better!
Am I no more the one? A changed hand, pace, and face?
And what am I—for you friends am I not the one?

5.
Have I become another? A stranger to myself?
Have I sprung from myself?
A wrestler who overcame himself so often?
Too often pulling against his very own power,
wounded and checked by his own victory?

6.
I looked where the wind blows most keenly?
I learned to live
where no one lives, in deserted icy lands,
forgot men and god, curse and prayer?
Became a ghost that moves over the glaciers?

7.
—You old friends! Look! Now your gaze is pale,
full of love and horror!
No, be off! Do not rage! You can't live here:
here between the furthest realms of ice and rock—
here one must be a hunter, like a chamois.

8.
I've become a wicket hunter! See, how deep
my bow extends!
It was the strongest man who made such a pull—
Woe betide you! The arrow is dangerous—
like no arrow—away from here! For your own good! ...

9.
You're turning around? —O heart, you deceive enough,
your hopes stayed strong:
hold your door open for new friends!
Let the old ones go! Let go the memory!
Once you were young, now—you are even younger!

10.
What bound us then, a band of one hope—
who reads the signs,
love once etched there—still pale?
I compare it to parchment which the hand
fears to touch—like that discoloured, burned.

11.
No more friends—they are... But how can I name that? —
Just friendly ghosts!
That knocks for me at night on my window and my heart,
that looks at me and says, 'But we were friends? '—
—O shrivelled word, once fragrant as a rose!

12.
O youthful longing which misunderstands itself!
Those yearned for,
whom I imagined changed to my own kin,
they have grown old, have exiled themselves.
Only the one who changes stays in touch with me.

13.
O noon of life! A second youthful time!
O summer garden!
Restless happiness in standing, gazing, waiting!
I wait for friends, ready day and night.
You friends, where are you? Come! It's time! It's time

14.
The song is done—the sweet cry of yearning
died in my mouth:
A magician did it, a friend at the right hour,
a noontime friend—no! Do not ask who it might be—
it was at noon when one turned into two....

15.
Now we celebrate, certain of victory, united,
the feast of feasts:
friend Zarathustra came, the guest of guests!
Now the world laughs, the horror curtain splits,
the wedding came for light and darkness....