Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Rarement les hommes aiment la beauté

From Jacques Prévert's dialogue in Marcel Carné's Les Enfants du Paradis ...

“Vous êtes beaucoup trop belle pour qu’on vous aime vraiment. La beauté est une exception, une insulte au monde qui est laid. Rarement les hommes aiment la beauté, ils la pourchassent simplement pour ne plus en entendre parler, pour l’effacer, pour l’oublier.”

"You're much too beautiful to be truly loved. Beauty is an exception, an affront to an ugly world. Men rarely love beauty. They pursue it to hear no more about it, to blot it out, to forget it."

The roads to the new moon blocked


From an early poem by Pablo Neruda

¡El Liceo, el Liceo! Toda mi pobre vida
en una jaula triste, ¡mi juventud perdida!
Pero no importa, ¡vamos! pues mañana o pasado
seré burgués lo mismo que cualquier abogado,
que cualquier doctorcito que usa lentes
y lleva cerrados los caminos hacia la luna nueva…
!Qué diablos, y en la vida, como en una revista,
un poeta se tiene que graduar de dentista!


The Lyceum, the Lyceum! All my poor life
In a sad cage, my lost youth!
But it doesn't matter, come on! for tomorrow or the next day
I'll be as bourgeois as any attorney,
or any little bespectacled doctor
and has blocked off the roads to the new moon ...
What the hell, and in life, as in a magazine,
a poet must graduate as a dentist!

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Icarus and the fatal man

Golding's Ovid gives us the classical lesson of Icarus:

Wee also lerne by Icarus how good it is to bee
In meane estate and not to clymb too hygh

Thomas Wyatt's 'Stand, whoso list, upon the slipper wheel of high estate' comes to mind: "let me here rejoice, and use my life in quietness".

But there's Lermontov's Demon - his effort to get to the clouds "Стремясь достать до облаков" ... a Romantic "fatal man" cursed by his immortality ... Печальный Демон, дух изгнанья ... A sorrowful demon, spirit of exile ... he sees Tamara at her wedding dance, destroys his rival. When he kisses her there is a direct echo of Icarus in the imagery, the days hot sun melting white wax ...

Она противиться не смела,
Слабела, таяла, горела
От неизвестного огня,
Как белый воск от взоров дня.

She dared not resist,
She weakened, melted, burned
In the unknown fire
Like white wax in the gaze of day.

He destroys her. This links to the romantic fatality of Oscar Wilde:

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Cervantes' Siri


The recently launched iPhone 4S is getting plenty of publicity for its voice-recognizing assistant Siri feature that "understands what you say and knows what you mean". It reminds me somewhat of Don Antonio's enchanted brazen head in Don Quixote, although the talking head is actually a trick.

Various friends of Don Antonio ask the head questions, sometimes receiving surprisingly accurate answers, sometimes getting the obvious or tautological. Sancho, for example asks if he will ever escape the hard life of a squire and get back to see his wife and children, to which the less-helpful-than-hoped-for response comes that if he returns to his house he will see his family, and that on ceasing to serve he will cease to be a squire.

On the other hand, Don Antonio's wife asks if she will have many years of enjoyment of her good husband, to which the nice reply is "Thou shalt, for his vigour and his temperate habits promise many years of life, which by their intemperance others so often cut short." - "Sí gozarás, porque su salud y su templanza en el vivir prometen muchos años de vida, la cual muchos suelen acortar por su destemplanza." Ah, that destemplanza! - da mihi castitatem et continentiam, sed noli modo.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Bitter cold world

Lines by Josef Weinheber - the man honoured by Auden and despite having been a member of the Nazi party famously replied to Goebbels' query about what the Germans could do to enrich Viennese culture replied "in Ruah lossen" (leave us alone) - these are from his short poem 'Forest Paths':

Ach, wie ist die Welt so bitterkalt !
Immer weht derselbe böse Wind

Oh, how the world is so bitter-cold!
Ever blows the same evil wind