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Almighty Ruler of the All -- Robert A Heinlein

In memory of the Columbia and her crew...
(Poem #1162) Almighty Ruler of the All
 Almighty ruler of the all
 Whose power extends to great and small,
 Who guides the stars with steadfast law,
 Whose least creation fills with awe -
 Oh grant Thy mercy and Thy grace
 To those who venture into space.
-- Robert A Heinlein
Notes:
  From the short story "Ordeal in Space", collected in "The Past Through
    Tomorrow"
  Intended as an additional verse to the Navy Hymn ("Eternal Father, Strong
    to Save")

As Heinlein fans are doubtless aware, his work includes several examples of
verse by fictional poets. "The Green Hills of Earth" [Poem #241] is
undoubtedly the best known, but today's poem runs it a close second (helped,
no doubt, by the popularity of the Navy Hymn).

I was moved to think of this (and of several other poems and songs) today,
and to reflect that, no matter how much one reads about the dangers and
perils of spaceflight, it never really strikes home until something like
this happens. It is far easier to believe in "those in peril on the sea" -
the seventeen years since Challenger have made astronauts safely invulnerable
in the public consciousness. No more.

Requiesat in Pacem.

Links:
  There is, unsurprisingly, a lot of filk appropriate to the occasion. I
  considered running some, but hesitated to separate the words from the
  music - go listen instead. I recommend "Fire in the Sky" and "Hope Eyrie"
  from the Virtual Filksing
    http://www.prometheus-music.com/eli/virtual.html

  A few minstrels links:
   Poem #276: High Flight
   Poem #609: Winged Man

 The original Navy Hymn:
   [broken link] http://www.chinfo.navy.mil/navpalib/questions/eternal.html
 There are also several additional verses; astonishingly, the Heinlen one is
 not among them.

PostScript: I am also reminded of the Poul Anderson novel "We Have Fed our
Seas", which was titled after one of Kipling's poems; I was actually
planning on running that one, but unfortunately could not find the poem. If
you have a copy, please write in.

martin

Ghazal of the Lagoon -- John Drury

Guest poem sent in by Mark G. Ryan
(Poem #1161) Ghazal of the Lagoon
 Morning, on the promenade, there's a break in the light
 rain here in the serene republic.  I take in the light.

 Every walker gets lucky at this gaming table,
 where the gondoliers, like croupiers, rake in the light.

 Through the glare of a restaurants window, I see
 fish glinting, like spear points that shake in the light.

 I could sit on the edge and get wet forever,
 all to consider a speed boat's wake in the light.

 Furnaces burn.  We sweat until we shine, fired up
 by the wavy vases glassblowers make in the light.

 Row me out, friars, in your _sandolo_ on the waves
 that glitter like ducats, for God's sake, in the light.
-- John Drury
                   (see footnote [1] for source)

I know little of John Drury except that he has written two books
(The_Poetry_Dictionary and a collection of poems called
The_Disappearing_Town), and that he teaches creative writing at the
University of Cincinnati, where he has won awards for his teaching [2].

This poem caught my eye because it is an almost perfect example of a
ghazal.  The difficulty of pulling off the ghazals form in English is
obvious. But Drury follows the form closely for the most part,  and the
result looks effortless.  The rhymes do not seem forced and the refrain
is noticeable without calling attention to itself.

The only traditional ghazal feature _not_ exemplified in this poem is
the use of the author's pen name in the final couplet.  It is also
short by one couplet, the usual number being 7 to 12.  Given the
scarcity of rhyming words in English, shorter is probably better.

The poem appears on the surface to be little more than a travelogue,
but one senses the presence of another person--a woman--throughout,
especially in the lines:

        Furnaces burn.  We sweat until we shine, fired up
        by the wavy vases glassblowers make in the light.

This fits with the original Arabic meaning of "ghazal", which was
talking about women. The eroticism in this poem is less overt than
in some ghazal, but this does not make it any less real.

Experts mostly agree that the ghazal originated in Arabia.  Today it
is best known from examples in the Persian (Farsi) and Urdu languages,
but Medieval examples exist in Turkish, Pushto, Hebrew and even Spanish.
Interestingly, "This eighth-century form was popularized in the West
by German Romanticists." [3]   It seems to be undergoing a new burst
of popularity today.

One criticism of the last couplet: I am not sure where the "friars" fit
in with the rest of the poem (and the final use of the refrain is a
little disappointing).  But it is a deeply mysterious image, and one that
contrasts strongly with the two lines quoted above.

For anyone interested in the ghazal form and traditional aesthetic,
here is one possible description [4]:

Form:

        1. Five to twelve couplets.

        2. Absolutely no enjambment between adjacent couplets.

        3. Both lines of the first couplet must end with a rhyme
          and then a refrain:
                ----------------------- RHYME_A + REFRAIN
                ------------------------RHYME_A + REFRAIN
           The rhyming word must immediately precede the refrain
           in both lines

        4. Each succeeding couplet ends with same rhyme and refrain
           in the second line:
                -------------------------------------------
                ------------------------RHYME_A + REFRAIN
           Thus, the rhyme scheme is AA, BA, CA, DA, EA, etc.
           The rhyming word must immediately precede the refrain.

        5. Each line must be of the same length and metrical pattern
           (this is always the case in Urdu and Farsi).  The specific
           meter and pattern depends on the language in which the poem
           is written.

        6. The last couplet usually is a signature couplet, where the
           poet includes his or her pen name.  It can be written in the
           first, second or third person.

Aesthetic:

        1. The opening couplet should establish the mood and tone for the poem.

        2. The mood of the ghazal in Urdu and Persion is "melancholy and
           amorous" [5].  "What defines the ghazal is constant longing" [6].

        3. Each couplet should be self-sufficient unit, quotable and
           "jewel-like".  Qualities that may be present: epigrammatic
           terseness, lyricism, wit.  Different couplets need not
           express a unity or continuity of thought.

        4. The second line of the couplet usually amplifies the thought
           in the first, or provides a twist or surprise.

Notes on sources:

[1] Collected in:  Agha Shahid Ali, ed. Ravishing Disunities: Real
Ghazals in English (Wesleyan University Press, 2000. p. 54.)

[2]     http://www.uc.edu/profiles/drury.htm

[3] Jack Myers and Michael Simms.  The Longman Dictionary of Poetic
Terms. New York: Longman, 1999.

[4] Loosely based on: Agha Shahid Ali, op. cit., pp. 183-184.

[5] Ahmed Ali, The Golden Tradition. New York, Columbia University Press,
1973; p. 2-22.

[6] Agha Shahid Ali, op. cit., p. 183.

Ghazal (Untitled) -- Ghalib

Guest poem sent in by seema bhakthan nair
(Poem #1160) Ghazal (Untitled)
 Even in prayer, we are so unfettered and self-examining;
 In case the door of Kabla was not open, we would just come back
 (instead of knocking and seeking admittance)

 Everyone accepts your claim for being unique,
 No idol, reflecting you as a mirror, can come face to face with you

 The compliant which does not reach the lips leaves a mark on the heart;
 The drop of water that fails to become a river is simply food for dust on
 earth.

 If, at the time of telling, blood does not flow from each eyelash,
 The story would not be of love merely (but simply as) the story of Hamza.

 If it cannot see the entire Tigris in a drop and the whole in a part,
 Such an eye would merely be a child’s game, not the eye of a wise man
-- Ghalib
        (Mirza Asadullah Beg Khan)

Note: A literal translation from "Ghazals of Ghalib - versions from the
Urdu", edited by Aijaz Ahmad.

Translations might not be the best way to read and comprehend Ghalib but
nonetheless each couplet in this ghazal has the strength to stand-alone and
spur thought that carries us deep into ourselves. The last couplet I thought
summarizes the essence of the ghazal, quite well. Seeing the whole in the
part, of part being the whole, of the part being nothing if it does not
signify the whole.

My favourite parts are, of prayer being reduced to another effort of man’s
justifications of existence and about how the power of a love story and
oneness is not really powerful enough unless it brings bloods flowing as
tears.

Pure, mad passion. Ghalib for you.

***
Seema

[Martin adds:]

Being unfamiliar with ghazals, I took the unusual step of asking the
discussion group for suggestions and useful links before I ran this. Many
thanks to Gary Blankenship and Salima Virani for their help and input. The
comments after the last four links are Gary's.

Links:
  [broken link] http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/5570/shers.html
    links to a biography of Ghalib and a definition. Seema notes that while
    the biography is uncredited, it is by Aijaz Ahmad, from the foreword of
    "Ghazals of Ghalib"

  http://www.ghazalpage.net/information/links.html
    a zine for ghazals, the link above is to their link page and actually the
    only one you need

  http://web.umr.edu/~gdoty/poems/essays/ghazals.html
    a good essay, also with good links

  http://www.cs.wisc.edu/~navin/india/songs/ghalib/ghazal.def.html
    perhaps the best essay

  and [broken link] http://www.ahapoetry.com/ghazal.htm
    for what is a list of oriental links without one by Jane Reichhold

A Night Abroad -- Du Fu

Guest poem sent in by Raj Bandyopadhyay
(Poem #1159) A Night Abroad
 A light wind is rippling at the grassy shore....
 Through the night, to my motionless tall mast,
 The stars lean down from open space,
 And the moon comes running up the river.
 ..If only my art might bring me fame
 And free my sick old age from office! --
 Flitting, flitting, what am I like
 But a sand-snipe in the wide, wide world!
-- Du Fu
    (Translated by Witter Bynner, 1929)

Here's another translation of the same poem, by Vikram Seth

  "Thoughts While Travelling at Night"
  (Translated by Vikram Seth, 1992)

  Light breeze on the fine grass
  I stand alone at the mast.
  Stars lean on the vast wild plain
  Moon bobs in the great river's spate.
  Letters have brought no fame
  Office? Too old to obtain.
  Drifting, what am I like?
  A gull between the earth and sky.

---------------------------------

I finally received a copy of Vikram Seth's 'Three Chinese poets' after a
long wait, and had to send out a nice one!!!

Du Fu (712-770 AD), one of the most well known Tang Dynasty Chinese poets,
along with Li Bai and Wang Wei. This dynasty (618-907 AD) is considered
the golden period of Chinese poetry, probably well-known to westerners
through the collection : 300 Tang Dynasty poems. This collection is a
must-read for every Chinese schoolkid. Both the originals and translations
are online at an excellent archive at
http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/chinese/frame.htm

I personally find this kind of poetry appealing, even in translation,
because of the simplicity and universal appeal of the ideas. Chinese
poetry loses most of the lyrical beauty in translation, hence different
translations have really different degrees of impact: a point I want to
make here.

Traditional translations in the 19th and early 20th centuries try to
translate in a way which results in 'English poetry', sometimes taking
undue (IMHO) liberties with language or concepts. Modern translations such
as those of Seth (not many people know of his expertise in Chinese
literature!) keep the English language simple, maintain the sentence
structure and attempt to get the elegance of the ideas across. Some people
consider Seth's style inferior. I will reserve final judgement until I can
understand these poems in the original. Meanwhile, other opinions are
welcome!

So here goes! The poem itself I chose because I sometimes strongly
identify with the feelings of aimlessness and smallness described. I
personally feel the Bynner translation as more descriptive, but the Seth
translation more emotionally appealing and overall, understandable. I
might just be stupid... :-)

References:
1) Witter Bynner: The Jade Mountain (1929), also at the UVA website above
2) Vikram Seth: Three Chinese Poets (1992)

Music -- Stephen Vincent Benét

       
(Poem #1158) Music
 My friend went to the piano; spun the stool
 A little higher; left his pipe to cool;
 Picked up a fat green volume from the chest;
 And propped it open.
 Whitely without rest,
 His fingers swept the keys that flashed like swords,
 . . . And to the brute drums of barbarian hordes,
 Roaring and thunderous and weapon-bare,
 An army stormed the bastions of the air!
 Dreadful with banners, fire to slay and parch,
 Marching together as the lightnings march,
 And swift as storm-clouds. Brazen helms and cars
 Clanged to a fierce resurgence of old wars
 Above the screaming horns. In state they passed,
 Trampling and splendid on and sought the vast—
 Rending the darkness like a leaping knife,
 The flame, the noble pageant of our life!
 The burning seal that stamps man's high indenture
 To vain attempt and most forlorn adventure;
 Romance, and purple seas, and toppling towns,
 And the wind's valiance crying o'er the downs;
 That nerves the silly hand, the feeble brain,
 From the loose net of words to deeds again
 And to all courage! Perilous and sharp
 The last chord shook me as wind shakes a harp!
 . . . And my friend swung round on his stool, and from gods we were men,
 "How pretty!" we said; and went on with our talk again.
-- Stephen Vincent Benét
I loved this poem - Benet achieves a passionate intensity that spills
through his writing, that stirs me and makes me shiver. (His "Winged Man"
[Poem #609] remains my favourite poetic discovery since we started
Minstrels.) There is, indeed, a certain measure of self-reference in today's
poem, in that it works best if you're in the same frame of mind as the
narrator is - if, like someone listening to a piece of music, you are
prepared to *feel* as much as interpret the words.

On the other hand, the poem's very intensity of emotion leaves it open to
criticism - it is very, very hard to combine a high degree of passion with
the perfect, elegant control that the ideal poem would demand, and Benet has
opted here to err on the side of passion. If someone wished, he or she could
doubtless pin the poem to a dissecting board, and examine its flaws in
minute detail. Personally, I'd rather enjoy it.

Which brings us to the other remarkable feature of today's poem - the
brilliantly crafted sting in its tail. Benet has captured a common problem -
expressions of genuine appreciation have all too often been replaced by
banalities that sound almost more dismissive than appreciative. Whether from
inarticulateness, or from a desire to appear 'sophisticated' by not being
too openly impressed, the pattern is one that I'm sure everyone has observed
at some point or the other.

And finally, this too could be self-referential - the unappreciatedness of
poets is a common poetic theme. Wonder why :)

martin