2007-04-02 23:33:12
来自: 幽人
Understanding Poetry的评论
William Wordsworth said “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings”. It’s simple, sensuous and passionate. Sometimes we may find that our mind and soul are starved in the indifferent world. But when you read a poem revealing present emotions, you suddenly find that you are not shut up in your little lot. Instead, someone out there, under the same silent far-off heavens is sharing the same passionate desires, the delicate sadness, and the heart-biting sufferings with you. They are the best human consolations for your sentimentality. As for me, poetry is the long-pent feelings which flow out like irresistible streams when the one smile at me. Poetry is the numerous sighs and silent words whispered by my inner self when I miss the one deeply deeply in the pinch dark night. It’s the feeling when I stare at the azure sky, suddenly lost in the ethereal nothingness, forlorn and lonely like an outcast of this bustling world. If indeed there is some craziness in these poetic souls, I want to be crazy with them to burn out the passions, sorrows, and thrillingness. At least it’s much better than to be an empty, indifferent living corpse.
I William Shakespeare
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow - Macbeth
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Macbeth has found his own surprisingly stoic and accepting way to resign to the barren futility of life. How about us? If all is pretending, all is hypocrisy, if we can’t love the one we love, can’t reveal our true feelings, what does these endless stretching life really mean? Life can be dotted with numerous pains and struggles, but I just want to be true to my heart, to trudge through this long journey together with the one I love. No matter how many hardships may bob up, the destination would be- tender happiness.
II Excerpted from Fatima
Alfred, Lord Tennyson （1809-1892）
O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!
O sun, that from thy noonday height
Shudderest when I strain my sight,
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,
Lo, falling from my constant mind,
Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind,
I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.
…
Last night, when some one spoke his name,
From my swift blood that went and came
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shiver'd in my narrow frame.
O Love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul thro'
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
…
My whole soul waiting silently,
All naked in a sultry sky,
Droops blinded with his shining eye:
I will possess him or will die.
I will grow round him in his place,
Grow, live, die looking on his face,
Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace.
I do appreciate all the images and symbols in this poem. The passionate and burning feelings gush from the words and rhythms continuously. The powerless lady is poisoned by her desire for love. The charm of her lover swallows her heart and soul. But if the lover never comes back, how can she resist her own destructing passion, how will she bury the emptiness in her deep heart? Poor hunted soul!
III Heart, We Will Forget Him
Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886
Heart, we will forget him,
You and I, tonight!
You must forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.
When you have done pray tell me,
Then I, my thoughts, will dim.
Haste! ‘lest while you’re lagging
I may remember him!
Why do I always miss thee, I know not. I’ve tried to cast your away, but it is all in vain. If my yearning can never get echo from your heart, if my missing is destined to fill each and every day of my life, I’m willing to bear it, in this suffocating silence, under control of my mind!
IV When I Have Fears
John Keats. 1795-1821
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
Poor Kears! He addressed this poem to an imagined love, but never could marry the actual girl with whom he was in love. He asked someone to inscribe on his tombstone: “Here lies one whose name was writ in water.” Ah, his life is floating in water, with his passions, love, sorrow, dream, sentimentality, forever…
V Rain Before Dawn
F. Scott Fitzgerald
The dull, faint patter in the drooping hours
Drifts in upon my sleep and fills my hair
With damp; the burden of the heavy air
Is strewn upon me where my tired soul cowers,
Shrinking like some lone queen in empty towers
Dying. Blind with unrest I grow aware:
The pounding of broad wings drifts down the stair
And sates me like the heavy scent of flowers.
I lie upon my heart. My eyes like hands
Grip at the soggy pillow. Now the dawn
Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouse
Of night; lead-eyed and moist she straggles o'er the lawn,
Between the curtains brooding stares and stands
Like some drenched swimmer -- Death's within the house!
Rain, tears, fear, loneliness, in the long, white night, the soul cowers in the little dark corner. What will you feel if you can’t fall asleep in the dead of night? Are you insane, are you dead or are you lost in your own world? Just a smile, just a whisper would be enough to awaken the lone queen. Out, out! the death of night, before the dawn breaks, let the rain patter like melody, let me fall into peaceful, calm, tender silence—my balanced soul.
……
……
Understanding Poetry的评论
William Wordsworth said “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings”. It’s simple, sensuous and passionate. Sometimes we may find that our mind and soul are starved in the indifferent world. But when you read a poem revealing present emotions, you suddenly find that you are not shut up in your little lot. Instead, someone out there, under the same silent far-off heavens is sharing the same passionate desires, the delicate sadness, and the heart-biting sufferings with you. They are the best human consolations for your sentimentality. As for me, poetry is the long-pent feelings which flow out like irresistible streams when the one smile at me. Poetry is the numerous sighs and silent words whispered by my inner self when I miss the one deeply deeply in the pinch dark night. It’s the feeling when I stare at the azure sky, suddenly lost in the ethereal nothingness, forlorn and lonely like an outcast of this bustling world. If indeed there is some craziness in these poetic souls, I want to be crazy with them to burn out the passions, sorrows, and thrillingness. At least it’s much better than to be an empty, indifferent living corpse.
I William Shakespeare
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow - Macbeth
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Macbeth has found his own surprisingly stoic and accepting way to resign to the barren futility of life. How about us? If all is pretending, all is hypocrisy, if we can’t love the one we love, can’t reveal our true feelings, what does these endless stretching life really mean? Life can be dotted with numerous pains and struggles, but I just want to be true to my heart, to trudge through this long journey together with the one I love. No matter how many hardships may bob up, the destination would be- tender happiness.
II Excerpted from Fatima
Alfred, Lord Tennyson （1809-1892）
O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!
O sun, that from thy noonday height
Shudderest when I strain my sight,
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,
Lo, falling from my constant mind,
Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind,
I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.
…
Last night, when some one spoke his name,
From my swift blood that went and came
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shiver'd in my narrow frame.
O Love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul thro'
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
…
My whole soul waiting silently,
All naked in a sultry sky,
Droops blinded with his shining eye:
I will possess him or will die.
I will grow round him in his place,
Grow, live, die looking on his face,
Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace.
I do appreciate all the images and symbols in this poem. The passionate and burning feelings gush from the words and rhythms continuously. The powerless lady is poisoned by her desire for love. The charm of her lover swallows her heart and soul. But if the lover never comes back, how can she resist her own destructing passion, how will she bury the emptiness in her deep heart? Poor hunted soul!
III Heart, We Will Forget Him
Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886
Heart, we will forget him,
You and I, tonight!
You must forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.
When you have done pray tell me,
Then I, my thoughts, will dim.
Haste! ‘lest while you’re lagging
I may remember him!
Why do I always miss thee, I know not. I’ve tried to cast your away, but it is all in vain. If my yearning can never get echo from your heart, if my missing is destined to fill each and every day of my life, I’m willing to bear it, in this suffocating silence, under control of my mind!
IV When I Have Fears
John Keats. 1795-1821
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
Poor Kears! He addressed this poem to an imagined love, but never could marry the actual girl with whom he was in love. He asked someone to inscribe on his tombstone: “Here lies one whose name was writ in water.” Ah, his life is floating in water, with his passions, love, sorrow, dream, sentimentality, forever…
V Rain Before Dawn
F. Scott Fitzgerald
The dull, faint patter in the drooping hours
Drifts in upon my sleep and fills my hair
With damp; the burden of the heavy air
Is strewn upon me where my tired soul cowers,
Shrinking like some lone queen in empty towers
Dying. Blind with unrest I grow aware:
The pounding of broad wings drifts down the stair
And sates me like the heavy scent of flowers.
I lie upon my heart. My eyes like hands
Grip at the soggy pillow. Now the dawn
Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouse
Of night; lead-eyed and moist she straggles o'er the lawn,
Between the curtains brooding stares and stands
Like some drenched swimmer -- Death's within the house!
Rain, tears, fear, loneliness, in the long, white night, the soul cowers in the little dark corner. What will you feel if you can’t fall asleep in the dead of night? Are you insane, are you dead or are you lost in your own world? Just a smile, just a whisper would be enough to awaken the lone queen. Out, out! the death of night, before the dawn breaks, let the rain patter like melody, let me fall into peaceful, calm, tender silence—my balanced soul.
……
……
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在哪儿买这本书? · · · · · ·
作者: Cleanth Brooks, Robert Penn Warren
isbn: 0030769809
书名: Understanding Poetry
定价: USD 108.95
出版社: Wadsworth Publishing
装帧: Paperback
出版年: 1976-01-02
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