If I Do Not See You - Anna Akhmatova

I cannot get enough of Anna Akhmatova's poetry. For some reason, the poem below reminded me of Emmanuel Levinas. I beg your apologies for any errors or misconceptions about Levinas' philosophy (it's been at least 7 years since I read Levinas), but the imagery of the poem reminded me of how humans yearn for the Other - that One cannot Be without the Other. However, no matter how strong that desire for the Other, One cannot have him/her fully, on account of the radical difference of that Other.

In the poem below, the yearning for the Other led to nothing but pain and suffering. The humor lies in that, with or without the Other, the Speaker cannot Be.

If I Do Not See You

If I do not see you –
I feel: minutes, as centuries, are endless.
If I once had seen you –
Again suffers a heart’s wound, so merciless.
If I do not see you –
I am winded with frost and with darkness.
If I once had seen you –
Seared by something, with boiled pitch in likeness.

If I want to see you –
Angels’ hands will convey me to Heaven.
If I once had seen you –
To the tortures of Hell I am given.
And my peace is a loss:
Without you or with you – it’s in ruins:
I’m not got by the earth,
And repelled by the heavenly blueness.

Poem IX (Drunk as Drunk) - Pablo Neruda

With so much time now on my hands, I've reawakened my old addiction for poetry. I'm surprised that it took me this long to get to Señor Pablo Neruda, who is certainly one of the most romantic poets. I prefer the lyricism of the Spanish texts, but the English translations are just as lovely.

This one evokes the languid romance of a hot summer's day by the beach.

Poem IX

Ebrio de trementina y largos besos,
estival, el velero de las rosas dirijo,
torcido hacia la muerte del delgado día,
cimentado en el sólido frenesí marino.

Pálido y amarrado a mi agua devorante
cruzo en el agrio olor del clima descubierto,
aún vestido de gris y sonidos amargos,
y una cimera triste de abandonada espuma.

Voy, duro de pasiones, montado en mi ola única,
lunar, solar, ardiente y frío, repentino,
dormido en la garganta de las afortunadas
islas blancas y dulces como caderas frescas.

Tiembla en la noche húmeda mi vestido de besos
locamente cargado de eléctricas gestiones,
de modo heroico dividido en sueños
y embriagadoras rosas practicándose en mí.

Aguas arriba, en medio de las olas externas,
tu paralelo cuerpo se sujeta en mis brazos
como un pez infinitamente pegado a mi alma
rápido y lento en la energía subceleste.

(In English)
Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made out of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

Mad Girl's Love Song - Sylvia Plath

Poetry never ceases to amaze me - how a handful of lines can hold a whole world of emotions. The poem below is one such example.

Sylvia Plath is Queen of Pain. In the poem below, the pain of betrayal is juxtaposed with the speaker's anger in such palpable yet beautiful imagery. Indeed, love is bittersweet. I've always found myself able to relate to Ms. Plath's works, and this one is no exception.

Mad Girl's Love Song

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

You Will Hear Thunder - Anna Akhmatova

After my stint in "Zombieland", I've been rediscovering my love for the written word - prose and poetry alike. The goal is to finish at least 20 novels for the year. I've already read 6.

My friend Q told me about the poem below by Russian poet Anna Akhmatova. He told me that it reminded him of me. What I like about the poem is the mixture of raw emotion and strength in the imagery.

Q, thank you for directing me to this treasure.

You Will Hear Thunder ~ Anna Akhmatova

You will hear thunder and remember me,

And think: she wanted storms. The rim

Of the sky will be the color of hard crimson,

And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

That day in Moscow, it will all come true,

when, for the last time, I take my leave,

And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,

Leaving my shadow still to be with you.

In Russian:

Услышишь гром и вспомнишь обо мне,
Подумаешь: она грозы желала…
Полоска неба будет твердо-алой,
А сердце будет как тогда - в огне.
Случится это в тот московский день,
Когда я город навсегда покину
И устремлюсь к желанному притину,
Свою меж вас еще оставив тень.