Thursday, July 30, 2020
One by Goethe: "I Think of You"
A 50-second reading/video of "I Think of You," by one of the titans of German literature, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe:
Tuesday, July 28, 2020
"Loving Some is a Heavy Cross," by Boris Pasternak
A poem about how easy, in this case, it is to live with someone whom you love. From the online book, From the Ends to the Beginning: A Bilingual Anthology of Poetry, russianpoetry.net. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway, Pasternak was the author of Doctor Zhivago, led eventually to one of my very favorite films, directed by David Lean.
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8oaaP68i4s
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8oaaP68i4s
One Way or Another
We rode the horses
to the top of the hill
where the blond dry grass
shakes in breezes.
We looked down
on the town,
its forever shabbiness,
everyone in it
exhausted and resentful.
We're just visitors here
now. Our cheer
isn't appreciated.
No one here cares
about our lives elsewhere,
and we can't say
why they should.
We thought of letting
the horses run free.
But they live in the town
too. We rode them
back, wiped and combed
them, shoveled out
their stalls, fed and watered
them. I slipped them
the last of the carrots,
bright orange like stove
fires.
We got in the car
and drove out of town,
maybe for the last time,
maybe not. The thing is,
we don't care, one way
or another.
hans ostrom 2020
to the top of the hill
where the blond dry grass
shakes in breezes.
We looked down
on the town,
its forever shabbiness,
everyone in it
exhausted and resentful.
We're just visitors here
now. Our cheer
isn't appreciated.
No one here cares
about our lives elsewhere,
and we can't say
why they should.
We thought of letting
the horses run free.
But they live in the town
too. We rode them
back, wiped and combed
them, shoveled out
their stalls, fed and watered
them. I slipped them
the last of the carrots,
bright orange like stove
fires.
We got in the car
and drove out of town,
maybe for the last time,
maybe not. The thing is,
we don't care, one way
or another.
hans ostrom 2020
Monday, July 27, 2020
"Leaving a Task Undone," by Fernando Pessoa
A droll poem dedicated to all responsible people and aspiring drop-outs. The Portuguese writer Pessoa (1888-1935) was the author of The Book of Disquiet, one of the most original and important Modernist books. Video is about a minute.
link:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzca5avQZCc
link:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzca5avQZCc
Saturday, July 25, 2020
"be kind," by Charles Bukowski
video/reading of a poem by "Hank"--about 50 seconds. Charles passes harsh judgment in this one.
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCRMp1se6Jw
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCRMp1se6Jw
Friday, July 24, 2020
"I Loved You," by Dino Campana
Short poem by Dino Campana (1885-1932), Italian poet who published one book of poems, Canti Orfici (Orphic Songs); there's at least one English translation of it. Video is about 30 seconds long. Translation by A.S. Kline.
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvLwNs-2WBg
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvLwNs-2WBg
Thursday, July 23, 2020
Plump Skink I Think
I was used to skinks
from the Sierra Nevada--
thin lizards, flashes
of liquid blue and black,
gone to brush in a blink.
So this gray-brown,
blue-tongued skink
I saw draped over
a zoo-keeper's hand
had me staring. Body
like an obese gila monster's.
Chubby back legs. Tiny
forward flailings were
only almost arms. Blue
Tongue had a mock-croc
top of the head, sincere
eyes, and--from an unseen
place of coiling, a long
lingual lariat of blue, a book-mark
in one of Evolution's
favorite volumes.
That tongue, it scares
off predators. Mr. BT
cracked that azure whip
a lot and spun its almost-
arms. Protested in
the zoo-keeper's soft hand.
To no avail. He became morose.
So did we. Empathy.
We moved on and the keeper
returned BT to small
heaven of privacy somewhere
on the grounds, somewhere
in the millions of skink years.
hans ostrom 2020
from the Sierra Nevada--
thin lizards, flashes
of liquid blue and black,
gone to brush in a blink.
So this gray-brown,
blue-tongued skink
I saw draped over
a zoo-keeper's hand
had me staring. Body
like an obese gila monster's.
Chubby back legs. Tiny
forward flailings were
only almost arms. Blue
Tongue had a mock-croc
top of the head, sincere
eyes, and--from an unseen
place of coiling, a long
lingual lariat of blue, a book-mark
in one of Evolution's
favorite volumes.
That tongue, it scares
off predators. Mr. BT
cracked that azure whip
a lot and spun its almost-
arms. Protested in
the zoo-keeper's soft hand.
To no avail. He became morose.
So did we. Empathy.
We moved on and the keeper
returned BT to small
heaven of privacy somewhere
on the grounds, somewhere
in the millions of skink years.
hans ostrom 2020
New York
I lived in New York for two weeks
once. Doing some research in Harlem.
The apartment's sad kitchen
had been in New York quite
a while, had arrived full of
confidence. The cockroaches,
who made me pine for my college
studio hole, belonged to well known
New York cockroach families.
I could tell by the way they
carried themselves. Only years
later did it occur to me
that New York's intensity
must, to lonely people, become
a merciless cruelty.
hans ostrom
once. Doing some research in Harlem.
The apartment's sad kitchen
had been in New York quite
a while, had arrived full of
confidence. The cockroaches,
who made me pine for my college
studio hole, belonged to well known
New York cockroach families.
I could tell by the way they
carried themselves. Only years
later did it occur to me
that New York's intensity
must, to lonely people, become
a merciless cruelty.
hans ostrom
Brilliant Plans
It's all right sometimes
to get something wrong
so it makes itself right.
A painter's accident
becomes a superb blue
stroke. A misheard word
makes someone laugh
and her laughter enchants
someone across the room.
So all those mistakes you
made with her, or with him,
when inspected retrospectively,
were part of a brilliant plan.
hans ostrom 2020
to get something wrong
so it makes itself right.
A painter's accident
becomes a superb blue
stroke. A misheard word
makes someone laugh
and her laughter enchants
someone across the room.
So all those mistakes you
made with her, or with him,
when inspected retrospectively,
were part of a brilliant plan.
hans ostrom 2020
"Travel Tickets," by Samih al-Qasim
Terrific poem by the Lebanese Arab-language poet, Samih al-Qasim. Poem is translated by A.Z. Foreman from his great poetry in translation site.
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_guYEYMbkg
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_guYEYMbkg
Tuesday, July 21, 2020
"You Have Closed Your Eyes," by Giuseppe Ungaretti
Nice little poem by Ungaretti, translated by A.S. Kline. Around 40 seconds.
Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Bxy_soD7ao
Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Bxy_soD7ao
Saturday, July 18, 2020
Baseball Figures
In honor of baseball returning (well, maybe), a video with just text and music, featuring a poem about different baseball positions and roles. "Baseball Figures."
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oF8RkFdqb0s
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oF8RkFdqb0s
Friday, July 17, 2020
"An Old Song Resung," by William Butler Yeats
A bit longer than most of my poetry vids: 40+ seconds.
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5Q2L3S872E
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5Q2L3S872E
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