2018年1月31日 星期三

哈代詩選


不知道有沒收此首
"The Rambler" by Thomas Hardy
I do not see the hills around,
Nor mark the tints the copses wear;
I do not note the grassy ground 
And constellated daisies there.
I hear not the contralto note
Of cuckoos hid on either hand,
The whirr that shakes the nighthawk's throat
When eve's brown awning hoods the land.
Some say each songster, tree and mead--
All eloquent of love divine--
Receives their constant careful heed:
Such keen appraisement is not mine.
The tones around me that I hear,
The aspects, meanings, shapes I see,
Are those far back ones missed when near,
And now perceived too late by me!
*
Poems: Hardy contains poems from Moments of Vision, Satires of Circumstance, Veteris Vestigia Flammae, Heredity, Short Stories, Afterwards, and an index of first lines. READ more here: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/…/hardy-poems-by-thomas…/



20111.11.2
幫助讀者直接閱讀英詩的書都值得推薦

2018年1月30日 星期二

"Barbarian" by Arthur Rimbaud

"Barbarian" by Arthur Rimbaud
Long after the days and the seasons, and people and countries.
The banner of raw meat against the silk of seas and arctic flowers;
(they do not exist). Recovered from the old fanfares of heroism,-- 
which still attack the heart and head,-- far from the old assassins.
-- Oh! the banner of raw meat against the silk of seas and arctic flowers;
(they do not exist).-- Bliss! Live embers raining in gusts of frost.--
Bliss!-- fires in the rain of the wind of diamonds
flung out by the earth's heart eternally carbonized for us.
-- O world! (Far from the old retreats and the old flames, still heard, still felt.)
Fire and foam. Magic, veering of chasms and clash of icicles against the stars.
O bliss, O world, O music! And forms, sweat, eyes
and long hair floating there. And white tears boiling,--
O bliss!-- and the feminine voice reaching to the bottom of volcanoes
and grottos of the arctic seas. The banner...
*
Poems: Rimbaud contains selections from Rimbaud’s work, including over 100 poems, selected prose, "Letter to Paul Demeny, May 15, 1871," and an index of first lines. READ an excerpt here: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/…/rimbaud-poems-by-arth…/

2018年1月28日 星期日

"An Irish Airman Foresees His Death" by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)



Wikipedia

"An Irish Airman Foresees His Death" is a poem by Irish poet William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) written in 1918 and first published in the Macmillan edition of The Wild Swans at Coole in 1919.[1] The poem is a soliloquy given by an aviator in the First World War in which the narrator describes the circumstances surrounding his imminent death. The poem is a work that discusses the role of Irish soldiers fighting for the United Kingdom during a time when they were trying to establish independence for Ireland. Wishing to show restraint from publishing political poems during the height of the war, Yeats withheld publication of the poem until after the conflict had ended.[2]

Poem[edit]

I know that I shall meet my fate,
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

2018年1月25日 星期四

Martin Puchner'sreview of THE WRITTEN WORLD How literature shaped history

Writing wrongs







https://www.the-tls.co.uk/articles/public/writing-wrongs-written-world/?CMP=Sprkr-_-Editorial-_-TimesLiterarySupplement
*****
Modigliani and Anna Akhmatova

這幅畫,最早讀自:
熊宗慧 《俄羅斯私風景:走過生活,讀過文學 時代的不安與女人的心事--阿赫瑪托娃的情詩》2013,pp.244-54,
我去Thames and Hudson的World of Art叢書確認。
現在,英國的報紙www.telegraph.co.uk也寫他倆的故事了。

Modigliani and the Russian beauty: the affair that changed him ...

今天讀倫敦書評,前2段:
Modigliani would be out drinking in Paris when a sudden desire came over him to remove his clothes, flex his naked body, and give a performance of Dante’s Divine Comedy. If it wasn’t Dante then it was something else – he could recite dozens of poems from memory, even while drunk, a skill that served him particularly well when he met the young Russian poet Anna Akhmatova in 1910 and determined to win her heart. She was on her honeymoon at the time but Modigliani was undeterred. They soon began an affair, absconding to the Jardin du Luxembourg to sit in the rain and intone the poetry of Verlaine. “We rejoiced that we both remembered the same work of his”, Akhmatova recalled later.
Modigliani captured her on paper, nude and perpendicular and as long in body and round in stomach as a butternut squash. And he drew her clothed and sphinx-like on a chaise longue. He is said to have sketched her sixteen times in all. Their relationship did not last, but Akhmatova took the drawings back to Russia and hung one on her wall. When we meet her in Martin Puchner’s vivid new history of writing, she is twice divorced but still reciting poetry, this time her own and to friends in Leningrad in the 1930s. Modigliani’s is one of the rare sheets of paper left in her home. She has burned the drafts of her latest poems after committing them to memory and is anxiously entrusting them to a group of women to remember until the Great Purge is over, and it is safe enough to write them down. Her devastating Requiem was finally published in Germany in 1963 and in Russia in 1989.
https://www.the-tls.co.uk/articles/public/writing-wrongs-written-world/?CMP=Sprkr-_-Editorial-_-TimesLiterarySupplement-_-

Anna Akhmatova, 1911 by Amedeo Modigliani. Expressionism. nude painting (nu)
WIKIART.ORG

LRB · Virginia Woolf · The Symbol

Virginia Woolf was born #otd in 1882. Her story 'The Symbol' had not previously appeared in print when we published it in 1985. The typescript, originally called 'Inconclusions', was dated 1941; it seems to have been among the last stories she wrote.
There was a little dent on the top of the mountain like a crater on the moon. It was filled with snow, iridescent like a pigeon’s breast, or dead white.
LRB.CO.UK

2018年1月22日 星期一

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage,

《含淚的微笑》與《遠方》是許達然前期散文的代表作,抒情意味濃厚,在玄想中帶有 ...
扉頁
人‧你在微笑與眼淚間閃動!
‧拜倫‧
Man!
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto IV (1818), Stanza 109.
以前讀 Hayek on Hayek 一書,
很羨慕他夫妻申請到獎助金,沿著Childe Harold 的路線壯遊!




For that reason, he was not among the best-known mountaineers. The first many people had heard of him was when, in early July, an avalanche caused by a toppling ice-block swept him away, with eight others, on Mont Maudit, beside Mont Blanc. He was guiding two clients along a popular route; the way and the weather looked safe. He was travelling light, on what he liked to call “another day in the office”. As no one knew better than himself, there was no perfect safety in mountains. But he would not have been in any other place, for, in Byron’s words, “Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends”.







Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

By George Gordon, Lord Byron


Canto the Third


   XII

But soon he knew himself the most unfit     100
Of men to herd with Man; with whom he held
Little in common; untaught to submit
His thoughts to others, though his soul was quell'd
In youth by his own thoughts; still uncompell'd,
He would not yield dominion of his mind
To spirits against whom his own rebell'd;
Proud though in desolation; which could find
A life within itself, to breathe without mankind.




Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

By George Gordon, Lord Byron


Canto the Third

2018年1月14日 星期日

Piano BY D. H. LAWRENCE in Reflections from the Keyboard, host David Dubal ;簡介 D.H. Lawrence的繪畫和藝術

10PM

Reflections from the Keyboard 
Every week, host David Dubal brings his unique perspective to the near and far corners of the piano repertoire. This week, David begins a new series celebrating great women pianists, with performances by Mitsuko Uchida, Cecile Licad, and Martha Argerich.

今天,

 WQXR的Reflections from the Keyboard host David Dubal 朗誦 Piano BY D. H. LAWRENCE

Piano

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; 
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see 
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings 
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings. 

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song 
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong 
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside 
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide. 

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour 
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour 
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast 
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past. 

***
http://hanchingchung.blogspot.tw/2017/10/dh-lawrence.html
****

2018年1月1日 星期一

"Auld Lang Syne" "A Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auld_Lang_Syne
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=acxnmaVTlZA



"Auld Lang Syne" by Robert Burns
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
Sin’ auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.
And there’s a hand, my trusty fere!
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.
*
The most essential of the immortal poems and songs of Scotland’s beloved national bard are collected in this volume. With the publication of his first book of poems in 1786, Robert Burns—the twenty-seven-year-old son of a farmer—became a national celebrity, hailed as the "Ploughman Poet." When he died ten years later, ten thousand people came to pay their respects at his funeral, and in the two centuries since then he has inspired a cultlike following among Scots and poetry lovers around the world.A pioneer of the Romantic movement, Burns wrote in a light Scots dialect with brio, emotional directness, and wit, drawing on classical and English literary traditions as well as Scottish folklore—and leaving a timeless legacy. All of his most famous lyrics and poems are here, from "A Red, Red Rose," "To a Mouse," and "To a Louse" to Tam o’Shanter, "Holy Willie’s Prayer," and "Auld Lang Syne." READ more here: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/…/burns-poems-by-robert…/





"A Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody 
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
*
The most essential of the immortal poems and songs of Scotland's beloved national bard are collected in this volume. With the publication of his first book of poems in 1786, Robert Burns—the twenty-seven-year-old son of a farmer—became a national celebrity, hailed as the "Ploughman Poet." When he died ten years later, ten thousand people came to pay their respects at his funeral, and in the two centuries since then he has inspired a cultlike following among Scots and poetry lovers around the world.A pioneer of the Romantic movement, Burns wrote in a light Scots dialect with brio, emotional directness, and wit, drawing on classical and English literary traditions as well as Scottish folklore—and leaving a timeless legacy. All of his most famous lyrics and poems are here, from "A Red, Red Rose," "To a Mouse," and "To a Louse" to Tam o'Shanter, "Holy Willie's Prayer," and "Auld Lang Syne."
Everyman's Library


"Auld Lang Syne" by Robert Burns
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
Sin’ auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.
And there’s a hand, my trusty fere!
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.
*
[Art: "Robert Burns, 1759 - 1796. Poet" (1828) by Alexander Nasmyth (1758–1840)]