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Title: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 06 Jan, 2007, 16:05:20
Song of wandering Aengus

I WENT out to the hazel wood,  
Because a fire was in my head,  
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,  
And hooked a berry to a thread;  
And when white moths were on the wing,          5
And moth-like stars were flickering out,  
I dropped the berry in a stream  
And caught a little silver trout.  
  
When I had laid it on the floor  
I went to blow the fire a-flame,                        10
But something rustled on the floor,  
And someone called me by my name:  
It had become a glimmering girl  
With apple blossom in her hair  
Who called me by my name and ran                  15
And faded through the brightening air.  
  
Though I am old with wandering  
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,  
I will find out where she has gone,  
And kiss her lips and take her hands;                 20
And walk among long dappled grass,  
And pluck till time and times are done,  
The silver apples of the moon,  
The golden apples of the sun.
 
W.B. Yeats




—  William Butler Yeats biography, works and poetry index (https://www.translatum.gr/forum/index.php?topic=166363.0)
Title: W.B. Yeats, Sailing To Byzantium
Post by: Parcelsus on 20 Feb, 2007, 00:54:47
Yes, sopherina, a beautiful poem from Yeats' early work (1899).

This is one of my favourites from later in his career (1928).


Sailing To Byzantium


- William Butler Yeats


I

That is no country for old men.  The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

                    II

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

                    III

O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

                    IV

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.


Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 20 Feb, 2007, 17:32:48
It' s beautiful! I have only read a translated work of Yeats, an anthology of irish tales, and I loved it! That day, when I posted the poem, I was listening to an Angelo Branduardi song, based on the Yeats poem. Where are you from? Are you Irish?
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: banned8 on 20 Feb, 2007, 18:18:06
Κατερίνα! https://www.translatum.gr/forum/index.php?topic=7757.0
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 20 Feb, 2007, 18:21:09
Κατερίνα! https://www.translatum.gr/forum/index.php?topic=7757.0
:-)))) Got it, boss!!!
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: nimatiks on 24 Feb, 2007, 11:35:24
Μανία με τους Κέλτες! Καλά, κι' εγώ δεν πάω πίσω... Sláinte!
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 24 Feb, 2007, 14:24:53
Sláinte!

You started drinking really early, Nimatiks! Need company? Pionta Guiness le do thoil..! :-))
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: banned8 on 24 Feb, 2007, 14:30:28
14:24 βρίσκεσαι στον υπολογιστή σου. Απορώ τι ώρα θα βρίσκεσαι στο Ruby Tuesday...
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 24 Feb, 2007, 14:32:38
Μπερδεύεις τη Θεσσαλονίκη με καμια άλλη πόλη, μήπως;;;; :-)))))
Πάντως έριξα έτσι κι αλλιώς σύρμα ότι θα πάω αργότερα διότι μόλις ξύπνησα και Σαββατιάτικα είναι αμαρτία να βιάζομαι!
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: banned8 on 24 Feb, 2007, 14:36:53
Με συγχωρείς για την παρέμβαση στα του (Θεσσαλον)οίκου σας, αλλά πάνω που ήμουν έτοιμος να πάω να τα κάνω λίμπα στο νήμα της συνάντησής σας, είδα μια χαμηλοβόρεια να με παρακολουθεί και μου κόπηκε η όρεξη.
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 24 Feb, 2007, 14:39:31
Με συγχωρείς για την παρέμβαση στα του (Θεσσαλον)οίκου σας, αλλά πάνω που ήμουν έτοιμος να πάω να τα κάνω λίμπα στο νήμα της συνάντησής σας, είδα μια χαμηλοβόρεια να με παρακολουθεί και μου κόπηκε η όρεξη.
"No way to ruuuuun, baby...", που λέει και το τραγούδι! :-))))
Any comments about Yeats, dear? Do you like his poetry?
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: banned8 on 24 Feb, 2007, 14:46:11
To the extent that I like poetry, yes. But I'm afraid you'd find poetry too near the bottom of my list for your liking.
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 24 Feb, 2007, 14:50:13
Time for me to go! Time for plot, Niko! ;-))))
Title: W.B. Yeats, Aedh wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
Post by: Parcelsus on 24 Feb, 2007, 22:45:56
Katerina, here is another poem from Yeats' early work.

Aedh wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,   
Enwrought with golden and silver light,   
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths   
Of night and light and the half light,   
I would spread the cloths under your feet:           
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;   
I have spread my dreams under your feet;   
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.   




Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 25 Feb, 2007, 00:13:55
It' s a very romantic poem! :-)
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: Parcelsus on 25 Feb, 2007, 00:59:13
Yes, Katerina, many of Yeats early poems are very Romantic.

Here is another.

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

     – William Butler Yeats
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 25 Feb, 2007, 01:06:34
This theme of the changing, growing old face of the beloved person reminds me of the Shakespeare sonnets.
And a sonnet by Pierre Ronsard, a french poet of the 16th century.
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: banned8 on 25 Feb, 2007, 01:22:01
To wit:

Pierre de Ronsard

from Sonnets pour Hélène

Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle,
Assise aupres du feu, devidant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous esmerveillant :
Ronsard me celebroit du temps que j'estois belle.

Lors, vous n'aurez servante oyant telle nouvelle,
Desja sous le labeur à demy sommeillant,
Qui au bruit de mon nom ne s'aille resveillant,
Benissant vostre nom de louange immortelle.

Je seray sous la terre et fantaume sans os :
Par les ombres myrteux je prendray mon repos :
Vous serez au fouyer une vieille accroupie,
Regrettant mon amour et vostre fier desdain.

Vivez, si m'en croyez, n'attendez à demain :
Cueillez dés aujourd'huy les roses de la vie.
      English rendition by Humbert Wolfe

      (more poetic than precise):

      When you are old, at evening candle-lit,
        beside the fire bending to your wool,
      read out my verse and murmur "Ronsard writ
        this praise for me when I was beautiful."

      And not a maid but at the sound of it,
        though nodding at the stitch on broidered stool,
      will start awake, and bless love's benefit,
        whose long fidelities bring Time to school.

      I shall be thin and ghost beneath the earth,
        by myrtle-shade in quiet after pain,
      but you, a crone will crouch beside the hearth,
        mourning my love and all your proud disdain.

      And what comes to-morrow who can say?
      Live, pluck the roses of the world to-day.
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 25 Feb, 2007, 01:26:26
I' m impressed, Niko!!! And you said you didn't like poetry!
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: banned8 on 25 Feb, 2007, 01:32:22
What I said was that I prefer to read other stuff.
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: Parcelsus on 25 Feb, 2007, 02:19:11
Yes, the aging of the beloved is a strong theme in Shakespeare's sonnets.

Here is one you probably had in mind.

However, the beloved other in this case happens to be a young gentleman.


SONNET 2

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered weed of small worth held.
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse',
Proving his beauty by succession thine.
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.

 - William Shakespeare.

Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: sopherina on 25 Feb, 2007, 02:38:42
However, the beloved other in this case happens to be a young gentleman.


Yes, that's why I wrote "beloved person".
I love Shakespeare's sonnets. #2 is not my very favourite but still... :-))
Allow me to post the greek translation by Vassilis Rotas and Voula Damianakou:

Σαρανταχείμωνο όταν ζώσει τη θωριά σου
και σκάψει τάφρους στην αβρή σου, λεία μορφή
η αγέρωχη στολή της νιότης, η ομορφιά σου,
τότε θα'ναι ξερά χορτάρια, συριπή.

Τότε αν ρωτήσουν πού 'ν τα κάλλη σου θαμμένα
πού 'ν όλοι οι θησαυροί της σφριγηλής σου νιότης
και ειπείς μέσα στα μάτια σου τα γουβιασμένα
θα' ναι αίσχος σου το τέλος κι ο ύμνος σου προδότης.

Μα τι ύμνους θα άξιζε η ομορφιά σου αν, ξοδεμένη,
θ' αποκρινόταν "τούτο το τέκνο είν' από μένα
θα κλείσει τον λογαριασμό που ΄μαι χρεωμένη"
με απόδειξη το κάλλος που 'λαβε από σένα.

Θα 'νιωθες τότε νέο το γέρικό σου βλέμμα,
ζεστό ξανά θα σου 'σφυζε το νέο σου αίμα.
Title: Re: W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus
Post by: Parcelsus on 25 Feb, 2007, 04:09:10
Thanks for posting that translation, Katerina.

I am trying to learn modern Greek (as well as ancient), so that will be helpful to study.

And who knows, perhaps one day I can translate English poetry into Greek, as well as trying to put Homer's Greek into English.