Re: [New-Poetry] Re: Tranströmer

Bob Grumman bobgrumman at nut-n-but.net
Mon Feb 12 06:25:42 EST 2007


Seems to me you gave a plausible paraphrase but nothing more, Crisman.  What 
happens in the poem that's special?  You never said.

--Bob

----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Crisman Cooley" <ccooley at overdomain.com>
To: <new-poetry at wiz.cath.vt.edu>
Sent: Friday, February 09, 2007 11:40 PM
Subject: [New-Poetry] Re: Tranströmer


> Okay, I'm playing the game.  The title, I notice, is Breathing Room  (or 
> Space) July.  From this I gather that the poem takes place in  July and 
> that it has something to do with space or breathing or room  to breathe... 
> We shall see.  (I'm playing the game, coincidentally,  after 3 glasses of 
> organic Merlot from Hectore at La Carpa-- a wine  that ages very slowly 
> even after it is opened and comes in a 4-liter  bottle-- I believe wine is 
> no longer the drink of poets... but I  don't know what is.  Any faults in 
> the interpretation I lay upon  Dionysius.  I'd prefer to know what they 
> were doing in the Eleusinian  mystery cults, which seems much more 
> relevant to me.  And if I'd just  done THAT, the interpretation would 
> probably be flawless.)   So  "lying on his back" leaning, loafing 
> [foul! -- rule 4 broken],  breathing we assume, with room to breathe. 
> Then the very odd: "he is  also up there."  But that's not difficult.  He 
> is in two places at  once.  Likely, he's "under tall trees" and simply 
> looking up-- but  looking up with such intensity that he's also up there. 
> Or imagining  himself up there.  Or having burst the boundaries of his own 
> skin...  further evidence for this in: "He rills into thousands of twigs 
> and  branches..."  Rills of course as a verb is weird.  [Breaking rule 4 
> again: look in the Oxford American (the OED having died inside of my  dead 
> IBM laptop) for rill: "verb intrans. (of water) flow in or as in  a rill." 
> Okay.  So he's flying or flowing up into the branches, and  the flowing is 
> splitting off getting smaller and smaller-- very  well.  "...is swayed 
> back and forth..." so these rivulets are moving  up in the air-- no 
> problem.  "As if in a catapult seat outflung in  slow motion" ... huh?  Is 
> that him flung up from the ground into the  air?  Yeah probably.  "Slow" 
> because that's how trees move in wind.   I'm breaking rule 4 to infer wind 
> from tree motion.  But perhaps the  motion is from a man climbing up there 
> with a chainsaw...  no, no  evidence for that!
>
> "Standing by the jetties..."  okay, suddenly by the water.  Trees  gone 
> and flowed right down into the sea.  Eyes squinting, narrowing  or screwed 
> up.  Prefer MS's squinting.  "Narrowing" is confusion of  parallax with a 
> change of distance between the eyes-- completely  fallacious.  And screwed 
> up-- well, it's just not something someone  is in polite society.  "The 
> docks ages sooner than men."  An artifact  of the poor web master typing 
> furiously late at night to get the  Transtromer translations up on the web 
> before she eats at midnight,  sleeps at 12:20am-- despite the latte at 
> 10:30.  Surely neither  Transtorm or Ms. Swenson would (do or) say such a 
> thing.  Fulton and  Bly have avoided the grammatical error, but the sheer 
> effort reminds  me of a dance between Gargantua and Pantagruel-- but that 
> may be the  wine.  Men and docks both turn silver with age-- thereupon 
> turns the  metaphor.  No?  And wood turns silver in less than 50 years.  A 
> statement of fact, by way of metaphor.  "Stones in their bellies" or 
> "stomachs" or "boulders in their guts."  Bly is consistently  funniest.  I 
> think this is the pebbles stuck between the boards of  the piers... what 
> else?  Which would preclude "boulders" unless the  space between planks is 
> larger than a man's waist, so that boulders  would fit in.  In that case, 
> even Bly would fall through.   "...blinding light rips ... through" or 
> "beats right in" or "drives  in" [in a yacht, perhaps? ...no].   "In" 
> what?  Well, remember, the  guy is squinting.  So maybe it rips into his 
> eyes.  Or into the  pier.  But anyway "across the waters..."
>
> "Sailing all day in an open boat" ... no problem here!  "over the 
> glittering bights".  I remember bight meaning the gravitational curve  in 
> a rope or the inertial curve in a wave as it moves up sand.  So 
> glittering bights would seem to be waves out in the water... though  not 
> quite, therefore back to the dictionary.   "A curve or recess in  a 
> coastline, river, or other..."  but if it's a curve, how come  Fulton 
> translates the same thing as "straits"?  Straits may not be  straight but 
> they're narrow and not necessarily curved.  Bly calls  'em bays.  So be 
> it.  Bright waterways.  "he will fall fast asleep at  last inside a blue 
> lamp"  Finally, we're reintroduced to the "he".   But this he is in a 
> boat, sleeping.  The first was sleeping under  trees, the second standing 
> on a pier, the third now is lying in a  boat.  And we presume they all 
> have "breathing room".  Each is doing  essentially nothing.  The hard work 
> of the poet.   "a blue lamp"  or  "his blue lamp" -- the sky?   Bright sun 
> does light the sky's mantle  like heat lights the coleman lantern mantle. 
> "...islands... creep"  or "crawl" like --  what is drawn to the lamp? 
> "moths".  Very well.   "over the glass", "across the glass", "over the 
> globe" -- water is  glass, covers the globe (at least in the sea)... and 
> is ripped by  light, made to look shiny, glass.
>
> Okay, it is one guy or three?  It could be 3 poses of one guy during 
> July.  Or a particular day and 3 different approaches to breathing.   Just 
> like the guy can lie on the ground and be in the tree-- it can  be one guy 
> in 3 places all at once, or 3 guys at the same time,  brought into 
> proximity only in the poet's imagination, or one guy at  three different 
> times.  The poem gives permission to take all three  perspectives.
>
> On Dec 15, 2006, at 2:53 PM, Crisman Cooley wrote:
>
>> Let's see if we can make this an interesting discussion.  Here are  the 
>> rules: 1. You must think, really think before you say  something; 2. As 
>> you read these 3 versions of a Tranströmer poem,  you must actually pay 
>> attention to your own esthetic reactions; 3.  You must report what is 
>> your esthetic reaction to a particular  word, phrase or image; 4. You 
>> must not comment on what is NOT in  the poem, only what is in it; 5. You 
>> can only voice your own  esthetic reaction, and are strictly disallowed 
>> from making  political comments or any other comments other than A. your 
>> own  esthetic experience, or B. comments about your own esthetic 
>> experience.  6. You are allowed to comment on the variation between 
>> translations, knowing, but not caring, that these are not about 
>> Tranströmer, but are about the text actually in the new-po post  (the 
>> Object of Discussion); 7. these translations are the only  object of 
>> discussion; 8. The question "What's this guy do that's  special?" must be 
>> changed subtly to "What is my esthetic reaction  to what these 
>> translators say this guy does?"  9. In the process of  following the 
>> rules, your original question will be answered, but  not in a way to 
>> prove anything, since esthetic discussions never  prove anything. 
>> Proving something would be breaking rules #2,3,4,  and 5.   Ready?
>>
>> Here are the texts:  [note that the May Swenson translation appears  to 
>> have an error in line 6]
>>
>> Breathing Room: July
>>
>> Lying on his back under tall trees
>> he is also up there. He rills into thousands of twigs and branches,
>> is swayed back and forth,
>> as if in a catapult seat outflung in slow motion.
>>
>> Standing down by the jetties he squints across the waters.
>> The docks ages sooner than men.
>> Made of splintered silver gray planks, and with stones in their
>> bellies.
>> The blinding light rips its way straight through.
>>
>> Sailing all day in an open boat
>> over the glittering bights,
>> he will fall asleep at last inside a blue lamp
>> while islands like great nocturnal moths creep over the glass.
>>
>> Translation by May Swenson
>>
>> Breathing Space July
>>
>> The man lying on his back under the high trees
>> is up there too. He rills out in thousandfold twigs,
>> sways to and fro,
>> sits in an ejector seat that releases in slow motion.
>>
>> The man down by the jetties narrows his eyes at the water.
>> The jetties grow old more quickly than people.
>> They have silver grey timber and stones in their stomachs.
>> The blinding light beats right in.
>>
>> The man traveling all day in an open boat
>> over the glittering straits
>>
>> Will sleep at last inside a blue lamp
>> while the islands creep like large moths across the glass.
>>
>> Translation by Robert Fulton
>>
>> Breathing Space July
>>
>> The man who lies on his back under huge trees
>> is also up in them. He branches out into thousands of tiny branches.
>> He sways back and forth,
>> he sits in a catapult chair that hurtles forward in slow motion.
>>
>> The man who stands down at the dock screws up his eyes against the 
>> water.
>> Docks get older faster than men.
>> They have silver-gray posts and boulders in their gut.
>> The dazzling light drives straight in.
>>
>> The man who spends the whole day in an open boat
>> moving over the luminous bays
>> will fall asleep at last inside the shade of his blue lamp
>> as the islands crawl like huge moths over the globe.
>>
>> Translation by Robert Bly
>>
>>
>>> Date: Thu, 14 Dec 2006 20:50:49 -0500
>>> From: "Bob Grumman" <bobgrumman at nut-n-but.net>
>>> Subject: Re: [New-Poetry] Re: Transtromer
>>
>>
>>>> It doesn't matter whether you've read a whole book.  What matters  (if 
>>>> you
>>>> are interested in educating yourself and others about your  esthetic
>>>> predilections) is that you make specific comments about a   specific 
>>>> poem.
>>>
>>> How about a specific question such as the one implied by my post, 
>>> what's
>>> this guy do that's special?
>>>
>>> --Bob G.
>>
>
>
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