P/P | r2c | November: Complex Leaves, Simple Poems
P/P | r2c | November: Complex
Leaves, Simple Poems
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"Language is a glove that is pulled tight around the skin of content. You have to throw away a lot until you find the one thing that fits exactly. Writing is throwing away." from Godfried Bomans, Short Reports This week, an image of the Compound Leaves of Virginia Creeper. Also: five new translations of Lowland poems.
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Vijf Gedichten; Five Poems
The guest poems for this week are new English
translations of a set of five Dutch pieces.
The featured poets are, C.
Buddingh', Ida
Gerhardt,
Judith
Herzberg, Ellen
Warmond
and A.C.W.
Staring.
Simplicity in Nature and Art
De taal is een handschoen die strak om de
huid van de inhoud getrokken is.
Je moet er een heleboel weggooien,
voor je die ene vindt, die precies past.
Schrijven is schrappen.
Godfried Bomans, Korte BerichtenLanguage is a glove that is pulled
tight around the skin of content.
You have to throw away a lot until
you find the one thing that fits exactly.
Writing is throwing away.
(all tr. Cliff Crego)
The futurist, designer and philosopher, Buckminster Fuller (1895-1983), inventor of the self-
contained and movable Dymaxion House (1927), as well as the famous Geodesic Dome (1947),
was fond of citing Emerson's phrase that poetry is about saying the most important things in the
simplest of possible ways. Fuller reasoned that, if this were true, than indeed the artifacts of
Nature might be seen as pure poetry.
When one looks at the photograph above of an elegantly arching branch, groups of leaves
alternatingback and forth from side to side, how can one not help but think that both Fuller
and Emerson were right. There is indeed a wonderful simplicity of structure, reminiscent of
lines grouped together in stanzas, in the way the five similar leaflets emerge from a common
center to form the larger composite leaf. But there is also a sense of complexity or richness in
the alternating rhythmic swing of these compound leaves, as they are called in botany, in the
way they order themselves on the branch.
So we have simplicity of form, in both Nature and Art, in the manner in which the different
elements work together to form the structure of the whole. But in poetry, we also have the
problem of simplicity of language and content. In the five poems I've brought together here—
two of which address the theme of simplicity directly—what they all share is a certain unadorned,
tightly compact, economy of language and style of description. The poems are short; the phrases
brief, the images direct.
But what keeps such verse then from collapsing into merely self-conscious attempts at imitating,
like a busy CEO buying a Buddhist robe and meditation cushion, the outward features of simplicity?
(This is the subject of Ellen Warmonds' piece, So they say.) Perhaps it has to do with the fit
of meaning and form. And the delight we experience when, coming back to Emerson,
something important or significant or with richly complex implications is said with but a
handful of well-chosen words. And perhaps, just as the Dutch author, Bomans, suggests
above that writing is essentially a movement of 'throwing away', Buckminster Fuller arrived at
the final form of his Geodesic Dome, which encloses proportionally vast amounts of space
with a minimum of material, not by adding more, but by simplifying until there was nothing
left to take away.
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Simplicity men aarzelt te zeggen de stoel staat in de kamer de tafel staat naast de stoel op de tafel ligt vaders pijp moeder zit in een stoel naast de kachel en de kinderen spelen in de tuin met de hond toch als men daarvan uitging was het geen slecht begin C. Buddingh' uit: Gedichten 1938-1970 Amsterdam, 1971 |
Simplicity one hesitates to say the chair is in the room the table is next to the chair on the table lies father's pipe mother sits in the chair next to the stove and the children play in the garden with the dog yet if one started with this it wouldn't be a bad beginning. |
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De Hazelaar Onverwacht mij tegen in 't nog winters jaar op de sprong der wegen bloeit de hazelaar. Tegen 't licht gehangen slingertjes van goud; aarzelend, bevangen raak ik aan het hout. Trillend dwaalt van boven 't fijne wolken los; en met bloei bestoven in het naakte bos blijf ik in een beven teruggehouden staan, en ik raak nog even 't donker stamhout aan. Ida Gerhardt uit: Het Veerhuis Verzamelde Gedichten, Amsterdam 1980 |
The Hazelnut It was still winter as unexpectedly at the crossing of two paths I happened upon a flowering hazelnut. Backlit hung ribbons of gold they are; hesitating, captive I brush against the wood. Trembling from above a fine cloud lets loose and descends; and so dusted with pollen in the bare forest I stand there shivering remaining reluctlantly, and I touch for a moment the darkness of its woody trunk. |
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Alleen in een Klein
Huis Alleen in een klein huis kan je behoorlijk denken de muren zijn dichtbij genoeg weren de regen met gesneden voegen die regen moet je kunnen horen het dak lekt op bekende plekken daar heb je plastic neergelegd emmers gezet, als er een raam is zelfs een plant, alleen in een klein huis kan je behoorlijk denken. Judith Herzberg uit: Zoals , Amsterdam 1992 |
Alone in a Small House Alone in a small house you can think pretty good the walls are close enough while the rain with slit joints you should be able to hear the rain the roof leaks at the usual places there you've put down plastic positioned pails, if there's a window even a plant, alone in a small house you can think pretty good. |
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Naar men zegt
Naar men zegt is dit het leven der wijzen: niet meer bewegen stilstaan als een berg zeer ouderwetse liefdesbrieven lezen een kerkboek kopieren zonder lachen bij willekeurige voorbijgangers naar hun gezondheid informeren 1 boek bezitten met het alfabet letter voor letter op een ander blad geschreven daar lang in lezen dan tevreden als een varen het lichaam samenvouwen en gaan slapen. Ellen Warmond (1930) |
So they say So they say that this is the life of wise ones: no longer moving still as a mountain reading very old-fashioned love letters copying a church book without laughter asking randomly passerbys as to their health to own 1 book with the alphabet letter by letter written on a different page to read there a long while then as contented as a fern to fold the body together and go to sleep |
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Aan de
Eenvoudigheid Breng mij, zachte Eenvoudigheid, Waar de stulp uw schreden beidt, Die de wijnstok half omvangt; Daar de bloeitak over hangt. Leid mij tot uw klein gezin, Als een trouwen jonger,in; Doe mij, luistrend naar uw mond, Waarheids echte leerling kond. Dat mijn oor geen woest geschal Boven eedlen zang gevall', Noch mijn oor een bont vertoon, Meer dan oudheids zedig schoon. Waag ik eens de lier te slaan; Spoort mij pligt tot handlen aan; Schoone Nimf! ontsta mij niet: Tooi mijn Leven en mijn Lied. A.C.W. Staring (1767-1840) |
Ode to Simplicity Bring me, gentle Simplicity To where a hovel your steps awaits, To where the wine stem half receives; And the flowering branch overhangs. Lead me to your small family Take me, as a trustworthy disciple, in. Let me, listening to your words, Become verily Truth's student. That no desolate noise drown out Noble song to my ears, That my ears receive not sharp sounds More than Antiquity's silken beauty. Have me dare pick up the lyre; Spur me to embrace my duty to action; Most beatiful nymph! escape me not: Embellish my Life and my Song. (all tr. Cliff Crego) |
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See also: new |
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"Straight
roads, Slow rivers, Deep clay." |
A collection of contemporary Dutch poetry in English translation, with commentary and photographs by Cliff Crego |
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See also another website by Cliff Crego: The Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke |
A presentation of 80 of the best poems of Rilke in both German and new English translations: biography, links, posters |
