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Monthly Archives: August 2008

Pindar Preferred

During all this time, over 50 years, I never read Pindar in Greek. Well, I didn’t take my first year of Greek until I was 24. But, damn, that was around 30 years ago. It’s about time I got off my ass. Oh, well, I put Pindar aside long ago, for two reasons, neither of them very good given my own orientation toward poetry. The first was the occasional subject matter of his odes. The Greeks loved sports, I don’t. But the Odes aren’t really so much about the sport. Also, Pindar makes it perfectly clear that he believes that the athlete and patron will only be known in the future because they were smart enough to hire a poet to sing their praises. But the flavor put me off long ago.

The other reason is my perception that Pindar’s language was inflated. I believe that I got some of this from Pound, but I’m not sure. If I did, I don’t remember where or when (probably long before I learned greek). The other source is translations. He IS a bit “flowery.” Flowery was not a Modernist ideal. Nor is it my ideal. On the other hand, the language is VERY highly controlled. It is not loose. And besides, it was written on spec.

I always thought I wanted to know the Greater Asclepiad in verse. Well, it is truly lovely. And now, Finally, I read a Pindar Ode in Greek and scanned the verse. Since I’m a linguistic weakling, I began with the Cambridge Greek and Latin Classics Pindar: Victory Odes. The selection and commentary by M. M. Willcock is designed to progress from easier to more difficult. Though I considered doing otherwise just out of pride, in the end I went with Olympian 11 because it’s the shortest (20 lines), because it’s the simplest (comes first in the selection) and because I like it. It’s also important to some critical debates about Pindar.

Because I didn’t want to steal Wilcock’s edition, and because it was easier, I used the open source Perseus edition of the poem for what appears below. First, the translation, which I include below to relieve the Perseus servers. The translation’s not mine, but from Perseus, I may translate it, though, later):

Olympian 11
For Hagesidamus of Western Locri Boys’ Boxing 476 B. C.

[1] There is a time when men’s need for winds is the greatest, and a time for waters from the sky, the rainy offspring of clouds. But when anyone is victorious through his toil, then honey-voiced odes [5] become the foundation for future fame, and a faithful pledge for great deeds of excellence. [7] This praise is dedicated to Olympian victors, without stint. My tongue wants to foster such themes; [10] but it is by the gift of a god that a man flourishes with a skillful mind, as with anything else. For the present rest assured, Hagesidamus son of Archestratus: for the sake of your boxing victory, [13] I shall loudly sing a sweet song, an adornment for your garland of golden olive, [15] while I honor the race of the Western Locrians. There, Muses, join in the victory-song; I shall pledge my word to you that we will find there a race that does not repel the stranger, or is inexperienced in fine deeds, but one that is wise and warlike too. For [20] neither the fiery fox nor loud-roaring lions change their nature.

But the music… I’m practicing reading this ode aloud in Greek. When I think it’s good enough, I’ll record it and put it up here. But for now, here’s a scanned version of the poem. The Greek alphabet is very easy, but if you prefer a transliteration, view the poem on perseus and set the “Greek Display” to “Latin Transliteration.” With that as a guide, you can see how the scansion works. The movement of the verse is divine even though they say that this isn’t one of his better poems metrically, though Willcock points out that the practice of the verse, though from later in the early period, is more like Pindar’s later work. Also, if you’re interested, there’s a good discussion by Nagy of Pindars meters. Above the poem is a key to the Dactylo-Epitrite meter used in the poem (blurry for now, but I’ll replace it later).

[caption id="attachment_302" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="Pindar, 11th Olympian Ode"]Pindar, 11th Olympian Ode[/caption]

Note 4: Hymn to Tröma Nagmo

(1st Draft, 2:37 p.m. August 28, 2008) (Version 0)

Prologue

For as long as someone has pain
I go for solace and comfort to Tröma Nagmo,
Resplendent One of light and laughter,
Black from deep blue, her naked body
Dances on a corpse at her feet,
Your necklace of freshly lopped human heads –
Even with it flopping around on your breasts
You hold the staff steady, and we clearly see
The fleshless, the fresh, and the rotting
Human heads impaled on it.

Click to continue reading “Note 4: Hymn to Tröma Nagmo”

Note 3: untitled

(Version 0)

Brag, sweet tenor bull
Descant on Rawthey’s madrigal
Basil Bunting, Briggflatts

No Rawthey here,
but the bull
sounds like Ian Pears.

Note 2: untitled

(Version 0)

The skinny, stunted grey female
with a walk no dancer could match
her sleek coat host to fleas in abundance
though she washes herself carefully.

If she weren’t so alert
she’d be dead very quickly
rather – she wouldn’t live very long.

The grasses and trees are thirsty
and brown filled with birds
continually plagued by mites.

And the deer have to drink
from the dew on the grass
before sunup with dogs
and machines on their tails.

And those other ones, the ones
you hardly ever see, born today
somebody’s breakfast next month.

Machineries of state are ordered
to lift us up from this misery
but sabotage and frequent failure

lead many to believe
that lions should be guarding their herds
rather than the people.

Whatever happens, we all
well, nearly all at least man, beast, bird, or fish
have one thing in common with insects

Life is itself reason enough to keep living.

Note 1: I Want to Live on the Acropolis

(Version 0)

I want to live on the Acropolis at Athens,
not the Acropolis that
was
but the Acropolis that is
the worn and crumbling
stone, the dirt, the fragments, sound
and lack of sound
once the diggers leave;

Erectheum for bedroom on the slope
with Swinburne’s verses singing to
the ladies on the porch;

Eleusinion for breakfast nook
Demeter and Kore
serving wheat and pomegranate crepes;

and a phalanx of scholars visiting
to whom I bow every morning
with thanks in my heart, soles, and brain.

(To name them? Leave names out?
What burden should this note convey?
a lone bassoon disrupting silence
or one section of strings, one of winds?
Here we must leave the names out…)

the Parthenon my living room
it’s limestone floor to dance in memory
the past in many states and places

or, if I can’t, to live near some column
not even capped in Doric, not made
of marble but of wood
reiterated at the capital
a living high rise of bark, core, deadwood,
leaves, branches, and narrow wild meadows near the top

the sound so close to silence
the far arc of a raven is violence in sound,
behind a fairy ring Bull Creek cannot be discerned.

Stolen from Aristophanes and Paul Roche

An adaptaition from The Knights by Aristophanes, in Paul Roche’s translation. The ONLY thing I’ve changed are the names. I couldn’t resist. It just made it so “contemporary.” At first I was only going to mail it to a couple of people. But, I have to post it.

(Colin Powell):I know, but you can’t keep anything from Cheney.
One leg’s plonked firm
in Iraq and the other just as firm on Capitol Hill;

And they’re spread so wide apart that his bottom’s fixed
plumb over Universal Buggerland,
with his fingers dipping into I-till-ia
and his mind in Kleptomania.

Approach to Briggflatts (Part I)

I’m engaged in an experiment. These are preliminary remarks regarding a procedure I’m following while scanning Briggflatts, the verse sonata which represents Basil Bunting’s crowning achievement. My basic stance aligns with Pound and Bunting as expressed in a previous post (Quotations: Rhythm). Some of that post comes from Briggflatts, the poet listening. The foundation is listening. But I’m also messing about a little bit. Once I’ve gotten farther along, the scansion results and analysis will be posted as “Approach to Briggflatts (Part II).”

Click to continue reading “Approach to Briggflatts (Part I)”

Quotations: Rhythm

Quotations regarding rhythm in poetry:

As regarding Rhythm: To compose in the sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of a metronome.
(Ezra Pound, “A Retrospect,” in Literary Essays, pg. 3.)

  

  

LISTEN to the sound that it makes.
(Ezra Pound, “Treatise on Meter,” in ABC of Reading, pg. 201)

  

  

Poetry and music are both patterns of sound drawn on a background of time.
(Basil Bunting, Basil Bunting on Poetry, pg. 4)

  

  

counts beat against beat, bus conductor
against engine against wheels against
the pedal, Tottenham Court Road, decodes
thunder, scans
porridge bubbling, pipes clanking…
(Basil Bunting, “Briggflatts,” II.11 -II.15)

  

  

Drip – icicle’s gone.
Slur, ratio, tone,
chime dilute what’s done
as a flute clarifies song,
trembling phrase fading to pause
then glow.
(Basil Bunting, “Briggflatts,” V.1 -V.6)

  

  

My bony feet
sully shelf and dresser,
keeping a beat in the dark,
rap on lath
till dogs bark
and sleep, shed,
slides from the bed.
(Basil Bunting, “Briggflatts,” V.83 -V.89)

Greek Prosody in English

I’m working on a combination of pages and blog posts about the subject of Ancient Greek meters (metres) in English. The bilingual form of “meter” is to show respect to my favorite sources of texts, who are British. The Greater Asclepiad is a rhythmic form that I fell in love with the first time I sounded it out. When I lived in my car for a couple of months during the rainy season in Southern California in early 1978, I frequently sat and listened to the rain for hours at a stretch trying to hear the rhythm emerge from the downpour. If you’re unfamiliar with it, here’s a quick rough sketch in anticipation of later, more detailed posts:

- x – x x – - x x – - x x – x -

Click to continue reading “Greek Prosody in English”

The History of A Poetry

I keep thinking that Buddhism is the history of a poetry.

While creating a catalog of the books currently in my possession (a project many years overdue), I came across a recent friend: Guru Rinpoche, by Ngawang Zangpo (Snow Lion Publications, 2002, Ithaca, NY) and remembered its Appendix 2: “Buddhism and Poetry,” which I stopped to re-read. Zangpo’s basic drift is that Buddhism and poetry are fundamentally intertwined. He gives many examples. He is better equipped than I to talk about the original texts. If the subject is of real interest to you, I suggest looking up his book.

But I’m going to take my own very brief and hurried stab at the subject, which has occupied my thoughts quite a lot over the years. Within that time frame, for the past 15 years, I’ve been a practitioner of several Tibetan Nyingma Tantric sadhanas. The primary literary feature all of these sadhanas have in common is that they’re all poems written in formal verse along with melodies that are orally transmitted with the triple purpose of being philosophically complete, aesthetically satisfying, and easy to memorize.

Click to continue reading “The History of A Poetry”