P/P | r2c | February: Teasel Symmetry and the Marriage of Inner and Outer Worlds
P/P | r2c | February: Teasel Symmetry and the Marriage of Inner and Outer Worlds
 |
"You can hear the sea with your hands over your ears, in a cockleshell, in a mustard jar, or at the sea." from The Sea, by Judith Herzberg This week, an image called Teasel, an old world plant along a new world roadside. Also: five new translations of Lowland poems.
|
Teasel Symmetry and the Marriage
of Inner and Outer Worlds
When we put our ear to Judith Herzberg's charming little poem, The Sea, we are
instantly transported in a childlike way through a series of nested spaces, moving
from the idea of sea, which is vast and unknowable, to the much smaller intimate
spaces of one's own body, to something strange yet beautiful like a sea shell, back
to an ordinary object like a pot, and finally to the actual thing itself in all its mystery,
the sea. Sound is the common thread which makes this movement possible; similar
sounds from different sources which we might think of as a kind of primeval, implicit
metaphor. So the child in us says, "Yes, how beautiful!— The sea is inside the shell."
How not unlike our experience of the poem itself, in that the sea, or the outer world,
lives in, or is brought home to, the inner world of our private selves.
This is the unique power of verse to bring together both inner and outer universes in
some kind of provisional, yet harmonious wedlock.
When we consider the image of the humble roadside teasel pictured above, something
similar is taking place. Perhaps we could say:
You see the head in the form of the teasel,
in yourself wearing a fuzzy hat,
in circles drawn on wet sand,
in an octopus of deep seas,
or in the teasel.
We make naturally and effortlessly these leaps of comparison which weave together
both inner and outer space with threads of similarity and difference. In Hulshorst,
by Gerrit Achterberg, we are transported on an old, slow-moving train from an actual
rural station—Hulshorst is the name of a village in sandy pine/heather country in the
middle of Holland known as De Veluwe—suddenly back in time to a vision of the
same space in prehistoric times. Many people have reported similar experiences, that is,
of unexpectedly entering a past time-space which somehow co-exists with the here and
now because of the unique character of a particular place. Again, it it striking that the
poet does this with images of sound and movement, both of the scene being sketched
and the language of the poem itself.
In Remco Campert's Cold, we find ourselves back inside the inside of our own home
pondering the nature of the approaching Winter. "I feel it in the air / And in the words
which I write. / Everything is getting clearer: the street / Can be seen to its end. The
words / Have no end." There is a strong sense of time slowing down, as it naturally
does during the colder months, which allows much more (inner) space to flow in.
In Hendrik Marsman's much-loved poem, Memories of Holland, we are again
seated with the poet inside somewhere, but now he brings to life for us a panorama
of a countryside he knows by heart but has for some reason left behind. How many
of us in the current era do not know this carrying around of a landscape inwardly
which has somehow rooted our spiritual life, but because it is now distant, lives on
only in the remembrances of inner space.
And lastly, Kites (2), by Kees Buurman, enchants us with the simplicity with which
it ties our soul to a string. Once again out-of-doors, the poets sees his inner world
flutter its wings above him, with now, perhaps for the first time, both feet planted
firmly on solid ground. Let us join him then, and follow the strings of words offered
by the poets presented here from inner to outer and and perhaps back again:
|
De
Zee De zee kun je horen met je handen voor je oren, in een kokkel, in een mosterdpotje, of aan zee. Judith Herzberg uit: Beemdgras 1980 |
The Sea You can hear the sea with your hands over your ears, in a cockleshell, in a mustard jar, or at the sea. |
|
Hulshorst Hulshorst, als vergeten ijzer is uw naam, binnen de dennen en de bittere coniferen, roest uw station; waar de spoortrein naar het noorden met een godverlaten knars stilhoudt, niemand uitlaat niemand inlaat, o minuten, dat ik hoor het weinig waaien als een oeroude legende uit uw bossen: barse bende rovers, rans en ruw uit het witte veluwhart. Gerrit Achterberg |
Hulshorst Hulshorst, your name is like forgotten iron, within the pines and bitter conifers, rusts your station; where the north-bound train with an ungodly grinding comes to a halt, nobody gets out nobody gets in, oh minutes, that I hear the sparse blowing as an ancient legend out of your forests: harsh hordes, thieves, rancid and rough out of your white pineforest heart. |
|
Koud Winter nadert. Ik voel het aan de lucht En aan de woorden die ik schrijf. Alles wordt klaarder: de straat Is tot aan zijn eind te zien. De woorden Hebben geen eind. Ik ben dichter Bij de waarheid in December Dan in Juli. Ik ben dichter Bij gratie van de kalender, lijkt het Soms wel. Toch, de woorden niet, de steden Nemen hun eind. Als er ergens Zomer en winter, maar een ster Brandde die een fel wit licht gaf. Ik zeg een ster, maar het Mag alles zijn. Als het maar brandt en Woorden warmte geeft. Maar ik geloof Niet, 's winters nog minder, aan Zo'n ster. In woorden moet ik geloven. Maar wie kan dat? Ik ben Een stem, stervend en koud, vol Winterse woorden. Remco Campert (1929) |
Cold Winter is approaching. I feel it in the air And in the words which I write. Everything is getting clearer: the street Can be seen to its end. The words Have no end. I am closer To truth in December Than in July. I am closer By the grace of the calendar, or so It seems. Yet, though words don't, the cities Reach their end.
If there somewhere |
|
Herinnering aan
Holland Denkend aan Holland zie ik breede rivieren traag door oneindig laagland gaan, rijen ondenkbaar ijle populieren als hooge pluimen aan den einder staan; en in de geweldige ruimte verzonken de boerderijen verspreid door het land, boomgroepen, dorpen, geknotte torens, kerken en olmen in een grootsch verband. de lucht hangt er laag en de zon wordt er langzaam in grijze veelkleurige dampen gesmoord, en in alle gewesten wordt de stem van het water met zijn eeuwige rampen gevreesd en gehoord. Hendrik Marsman (1899-1940) |
Memories of Holland Thinking about Holland, I see broad rivers moving slowly through endless lowlands, rows of unthinkably thin poplars standing as high plumes on the horizon; and sunken within wonderful space, farm houses scattered throughout the land, clusters of trees, villages, cropped towers, churches and elms in one great association. the air hangs low and the sun is slowly muffled in a gray mottled fog, and in all the many provinces the voice of the water with its eternal calamities is feared and heard. |
|
Vlieger
(2)* De vlieger die de nachtlucht zichtbaar maakt, een snelle schaduw en een dans is, de blauwe spiegel van mijn ziel, zingt fluisterend mijn woorden weg in wind. Twee draden brengen kracht omlaag en bevestigen mijn voeten aan de grond. Even speel ik het universum, terwijl in mijn buik een vlieger vlindert. Kees Buurman (1933 - 1997) |
Kites (2)* The kite that makes the nightwind visible, is quick shadow and dance, blue mirror of my soul, sings my words whispering away in the wind. Two strings bring down energy and fasten my feet to the ground. For a moment I play universe, while in my belly a kite flutters its wings. (all tr. Cliff Crego) |
About "Kites (2)" by Kees
Buurman
I recently found this wonderful little poem by Kees Buurman on a website
which documents on the Web a remarkable project called
The Wall-Poems
of Leiden [The Netherlands]. The private
foundation,
AGAINST-IMAGE,
has over a period of eight years created more than 86 large-scale murals,
each
of which handsomely features a single poem in a unique graphic design. The
selected poems reflect a highly international perspective—many are
displayed
in the original script and language—which it should be said is
characteristic
of much of Dutch literary tradition. If you would like to view the wall
devoted to
Vliegers (2)/ Kites (2)
by Kees Buurman, follow the previous
link which takes you to the specific page in AGAINST-IMAGES' website.
What follows below is a short translation of the Dutch introduction found
there on their homepage (see links
below).
De Muurgedichten
van Leiden
"Het Leidse stadsbeeld is opgesierd met vele verrassende muurgedichten. Ze
maken deel uit van het project "Gedichten en
muren", dat is gestart in 1992
met een gedicht van de Russische dichteres Marina Tsvetajeva. Dit gedicht
was het begin van een lange reeks, die nog steeds groeit. Het aanbrengen
van
de muurgedichten is een particulier initiatief van de stichting
TEGEN-BEELD,
waarvan Ben Walenkamp, en Jan-Willem Bruins de belangrijkste uitvoerenden
zijn. Ook hebben diverse particulieren en ondernemers als sponsor of anderszins
een bijdrage geleverd. De stichting stelt vooral de relatie tussen taal en
beeld centraal."
The Wall-Poems of Leiden
[The Netherlands]
"The cityscape of Leiden is decorated by a number of many surprising wall-poems
(muurgedichten). They are part of a project called,
"Poems and Walls", that
was
started in 1992 with a poem by the Russian poet, Marina Tsvetaeva. This poem
was the beginning of a long list of others, which is still growing. The
realization
of the wall-poems has been and remains the private initiative of the foundation
AGAINST-IMAGE (TEGEN-BEELD), of whom Ben
Walenkamp and Jan-
Willem Bruins have been the most important executors. Also, a diverse group
of
other individuals and contractors have lent assistance to the project with
subsidies
or by other means. The central concern of the foundation AGAINST-IMAGE is
the relationship between language and image."
|
See also: new |
|
"Straight
roads, Slow rivers, Deep clay." |
A collection of contemporary Dutch poetry in English translation, with commentary and photographs by Cliff Crego |
|
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 |