Number 275: Ranier Maria Rilke "Autumn Day"

Autumn Day

Lord: it is time.
The summer was immense.

Lay your long shadows on the sundials,

and on the meadows let the winds go free.

Command the last fruits to be full;

give them just two more southern days,

urge them on to completion and chase

the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

Who has no house now, will never build one.

Who is alone now, will long remain so,

will stay awake, read, write long letters

and will wander restlessly up and down
the tree-lined streets,
when the leaves are drifting.

-- Rainier Maria Rilke
Translated by Edward Snow

October Day

Oh Lord, it's time, it's time. It was a great summer.

Lay your shadow now on the sundials,

and on the open fields let the winds go!

Give the tardy fruits the command to fill;

give them two Mediterranean days,

drive them on into their greatness, and press

the final sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house by now will not build.

Whoever is alone now, will remain alone,

will wait up, read, write long letters,
and
walk along sidewalks under large trees,

not going home, as the leaves fall and blow away.

-- Rainier Maria Rilke
Translated by Robert Bly

Autumn Day

Lord, it is time. Let the great summer go,

Lay your long shadows on the sundials,

And over harvest piles let the winds blow.

Command the last fruits to be ripe;

Grant them some other southern hour,

Urge them to completion, and with power

Drive final sweetness to the heavy grape.

Who's homeless now, will for long stay alone.

No home will build his weary hands,

He'll wake, read, write letters long to friends

And will the alleys up and down

Walk restlessly, when falling leaves dance.

-- Rainier Maria Rilke
Translated by Guntram Deichsel

Autumn Day

Lord, it is time. The summer was long enough.
Lay your shadow upon the sundial and
loose the winds upon the corridors of the earth.

Order the last fruits to ripen;
give them only a couple of warm southern days,
command their ripeness to perfection and drive
the last bit of sweetness into the dense grapes.

Who has no house now, will build no more.
Who is alone now, will long stay so,
Will keep watch, sleepless, will read, write long letters
will wander back and forth on the streets
Restlessly amidst the swirling leaves.

-- Rainier Maria Rilke
Translated by Hap Mansfield

Hap Notes: Remember how we keep talking about translation being interpretation? These variations of Rilke say it all, do they not? I threw in my own stab at it just for another perspective. I'm not a particularly brilliant translator, I don't think, but it's not a terrible translation, anyway.

I think almost everyone at one point in the fall knows the sweet and sour sorrow Rilke is talking about.

This is the original German if you'd like to try it yourself:

Herbsttag

Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.

Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren, 

und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.

Befiel den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage 

die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr. 

Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,

wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben 

und wird in den Alleen hin und her 

unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.

-- Rainier Maria Rilke


Here's where we've talked about Rilke before: http://happopoemouse.blogspot.com/2011/06/number-194-rainer-maria-rilke-archaic.html

Number 274: Author unknown "Who Killed Cock Robin?"

Who Killed Cock Robin?

Who killed Cock Robin?
I, said the Sparrow,
With my bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin.

Who saw him die?
I, said the Fly,
With my little eye,
I saw him die.

Who caught his blood?
I, said the Fish,
With my little dish,
I caught his blood.

Who'll make the shroud?
I, said the Beetle,
With my thread and needle,
I'll make the shroud.

Who'll dig his grave?
I, said the Owl,
With my pick and shovel,
I'll dig his grave.

Who'll be the parson?
I, said the Rook,
With my little book,
I'll be the parson.

Who'll be the clerk?
I, said the Lark,
If it's not in the dark,
I'll be the clerk.

Who'll carry the link?
I, said the Linnet,
I'll fetch it in a minute,
I'll carry the link.

Who'll be chief mourner?
I, said the Dove,
I mourn for my love,
I'll be chief mourner.

Who'll carry the coffin?
I, said the Kite,
If it's not through the night,
I'll carry the coffin.

Who'll bear the pall?
We, said the Wren,
Both the cock and the hen,
We'll bear the pall.

Who'll sing a psalm?
I, said the Thrush,
As she sat on a bush,
I'll sing a psalm.

Who'll toll the bell?
I said the Bull,
Because I can pull,
I'll toll the bell.

All the birds of the air
Fell a-sighing and a-sobbing
When they heard the bell toll
For poor Cock Robin.

-- Author unknown

Hap Notes: While this famous set of nursery rhyme verses was first published in the 1700s, there are many scholars who believe it dates back to the 1500s. There are slight variations in the verses as they date back in time. I have selected one that is fairly easy to read. The "link" that the linnet is carrying is a torch. The "bull" is short for bullfinch.

What do the verses mean? Well, there are a lot of theories. One theory suggests that it is a mythological event like the death of the Norse God Baldr ( the God of summer sunlight and the life force, who had dreams of his death so his mom made everything on earth promise not to hurt him except she skipped mistletoe so Loki ( a mischievious God) made a spear or arrow out of mistletoe to kill Baldr. He gave the weapon to Baldr's brother , who didn't know about its danger and he kills him with it.... it's a much longer and weirder story than this- I'm paraphrasing.) So it could also be a metaphor for the end of the summer, the beginning of the fall and winter.

Another theory is that the poem is about about the death of William Rufus, King William II of England. Another theory says it is about the fall of the government of Robert Walpole in 1742 (which is sort of odd since the poem has its mirrors in countries all throughout Europe.) Yet another theory suggests that it is about Robin Hood.

Whatever actually inspired the poem, it has been adopted by many countries and added to their own literature.

It's Saturday! Yay! Here are the cartoons:

First off, the famous Disney cartoon based on the poem: www.youtube.com/watch?v=IhPJCd-h8aI

Here's a Harvey-toon takeoff on the poem starring Little Audrey "The Cockeyed Canary :www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQCfPVlJzVM

I just love this cartoon featuring the drawings of James Thurber and a story from his Fables For Our Time. This is ""The Unicorn in the Garden": www.youtube.com/watch?v=1teJjX-smdE&feature=related

Remember the Icebird? Here are two adds for it. Same film footage, different song: www.youtube.com/watch?v=iykMgXo1fSI

and www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQfkJSQgPnc

Here's a "Fractured Fairytale" from Rocky and Bulwinkle. The Edward Everett Horton narration for these is one of the reasons they are so funny and clever: www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJfcfOgLjxQ&feature=related

Kookoo birds? www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXNSHCOgdao

Of course we have to show the Angry Birds, the mega popular phone app and game: www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Bk_nqUQ0fc&feature=relmfu

And, finally, a touch of the 80s- the band Cock Robin with "Worlds Apart": www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3dqXd8c4-8&feature=related

Number 273: Thomas Hardy "Waiting Both"

Waiting Both

A star looks down at me,

And says, "Here I and you

Stand, each in his degree: 

What do you mean to do, —

Mean to do?"

I say: "For all I know,

Wait, and let Time go by,

Till my change come." – "Just so,"

The star says, "So mean I: —

So mean I."

-- Thomas Hardy

Hap Notes: Hardy can write a pithy short poem and this is certainly one of them. A few short lines places a man (everyman/woman more or less) in the context of the universe and time. Hardy first published this poem in the literary magazine, The London Mercury, in 1924.

When the star says "Here we are" where exactly is Hardy talking about? It's as if the man and the star were hanging around the same universal bus stop or train depot, making small talk (with a very large subject) about their destinations.

A star starts out in the cosmic soup of a nebula. It goes through various changes until, in the end, it collapses and explodes (usually). What we call the sun, as you know, is a star. A star, depending on how heavy it is, will live 10 million to 100 billion years. The sun is around 4 1/2 billion years old and it's expected to live another billion or so. It's a long wait, in human time, for a star.

A person starts out in a kind of cosmic/biological soup as well. He/she goes through various changes until the body collapses or burns out. The average life span of a human worldwide is around 67 years although in America it's more like 78 years old (according to the CIA World Factbook.) No matter what a person does in their life there is always the thought that at some point, life will end. How long their life will go is just a matter of time.

However, neither the man nor the star says a single word about death. They refer to their "change." What does this mean? I suppose, that's up to you to decide.

Here is where we have talked about Hardy before: happopoemouse.blogspot.com/2010/12/number-25-thomas-hardy-darkling-thrush.html

and here: happopoemouse.blogspot.com/2010/12/number-19-thomas-hardy-christmas-ghost.html

Number 272: Walt Whitman "A Noiseless Patient Spider"

A Noiseless Patient Spider

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

-- Walt Whitman

Hap Notes: In this poem Whitman is likening the searching human spirit to the efforts of a spider seeking a place to attach its filament in order to make a connection. The connection will allow it to make other connections and fill in its web and world. But in the poem, the spider is sending out its silken threads, alone, surrounded by a vast (by spider proportions) emptiness. The spider keeps going, keeps sending out the threads, keeps looking and hoping for a connection. (Just a side note: did you know that spiders use hydraulic pressure to move? It's amazing.)

Whitman tells us this is like his own soul, endlessly searching for that connection, looking for an attachment. Is it love? Meaning? Satisfaction? Belief? A purpose? Creative inspiration? All of the above? Yes.

Whitman points out that this is a solitary task but one that cannot be given up. Just as the spider must succeed in order to insure its survival, so must the poet also make a constant effort to try to explore the mysteries, horrors and beauties of life to truly live.

All of us are alone searching for meaning in a vast ocean of space, other creatures, other stars and planets. It is both humbling and important to keep going in the search to quench the thirsting spirit.

Whitman, in this poem, like the spider, does not ever give up hope and, in fact, neither of them can conceive of such a thing.

The poem is is a lesson about the persistence of the longings of the heart, the yearnings of the soul, the need for connection and the constant effort to find it without malice or defeat. It simply must be done.

Here is where we have talked about Whitman before: happopoemouse.blogspot.com/2011/02/number-57-walt-whitman-when-i-heard.html

Number 271: Stanley Kunitz "Halley's Comet"

Halley's Comet

Miss Murphy in first grade
wrote its name in chalk
across the board and told us
it was roaring down the stormtracks
of the Milky Way at frightful speed
and if it wandered off its course
and smashed into the earth
there’d be no school tomorrow.
A red-bearded preacher from the hills
with a wild look in his eyes
stood in the public square
at the playground’s edge
proclaiming he was sent by God
to save every one of us,
even the little children.
“Repent, ye sinners!” he shouted,
waving his hand-lettered sign.
At supper I felt sad to think
that it was probably
the last meal I’d share
with my mother and my sisters;
but I felt excited too
and scarcely touched my plate.
So mother scolded me
and sent me early to my room.
The whole family’s asleep
except for me. They never heard me steal
into the stairwell hall and climb
the ladder to the fresh night air.
Look for me, Father, on the roof
of the red brick building
at the foot of Green Street—
that’s where we live, you know, on the top floor.
I’m the boy in the white flannel gown
sprawled on this coarse gravel bed
searching the starry sky,
waiting for the world to end.

-- Stanley Kunitz

Hap Notes: In May of 1910, when Kunitz was 5 or 6 years old, the impending visit of Halley's comet stirred up some little panic. Astronomers, with new (at the time) technology at their disposal, learned that comets contained cyanogen, a poisonous gas and that earth would pass through the tail of the comet. Of course, some goofs in the media (uh, just like now) grabbed onto this and scared the bejesus out of folks. There were actually shysters selling "comet pills" to protect people from the impending poisonous doom. Some people around the world had comet parties, notably the French, who held "comet balls" and "comet dinners" ( this fact, alone, redeems the French for me in many ways.) Here in America, in addition to a lot of ballyhoo, there were prophets of doom, end of the world blah blah blah. You know the drill.

The comet was a craze. There were comet buttons, Edmund Halley cigars, and a variety of souvenirs. Scientists wrote essays and spoke to the public in lectures about the earth's complete safety throughout the event, trying to dispel the rumors of danger. Postcards were made depicting it and songs were written about it (the Halley's Comet Rag") President William Howard Taft viewed the comet at the U.S. Naval Observatory. The pope at the time (Pius X) thought the whole thing was malarkey.

However, if you were six years old and in first grade and heard about the comet, as Kunitz was, it certainly would remain a vivid memory. Particularly amusing is his observation that if "wandered off its course/and smashed into the earth/ there’d be no school tomorrow."

Remember that Kunitz's father committed suicide before the poet before so there are two "fathers" he may be talking about when he implores him to find him on the roof. (everybody wore nightshirts back then. Pajamas (originally from South and Western Asia, worn as clothing) were not used as nightwear until the late 1870s. Pajamas for nightwear would have been "trendy" and "different" in Shapiro's youth.)

The earth did pass through the 24 million mile-long tail of Halley's comet in 1910 on May 19. It took six hours. There were spectacular sunsets that month and the comet was visible to the naked eye. The comet put on a particularly bright show that year throughout the world from April through May.

Halley's comet (pronounced to rhyme with "valley" not Haley like Haley Mills) was actually sited and depicted in tapestries in 1066 during the battle of Hastings. And of course, Mark Twain, possibly the comet's most famous birth/death, was born the month and year it passed in 1835 and died the day after it passed in 1910.

Let's go back to the poem, though. Do you remember the excitement and maybe even foreboding that we felt at the turn of the millennium and the whole Y2K hysteria? Even if you thought it was hogwash, there is always that slight anticipation that maybe something is going to destroy us. It would be interesting to find out what 6 year olds thought about that now, wouldn't it? In Kunitz's poem, it's the natural world that is destroying us so there's an added mysterious factor to it.

Here's where we've talked about Kunitz before: happopoemouse.blogspot.com/2011/08/number-248-stnley-kunitz-three-floors.html

and here: happopoemouse.blogspot.com/2011/05/number-151-stanley-kunitz-hornworm.html

and here: happopoemouse.blogspot.com/2010/12/number-20-stanley-kunitz-portrait.html

Number 270: Louise Erdrich "That Pull From The Left"

That Pull from the Left

Butch once remarked to me how sinister it was
alone, after hours, in the dark of the shop
to find me there hunched over two weeks’ accounts
probably smoked like a bacon from all those Pall-Malls.

Odd comfort when the light goes, the case lights left on
and the rings of baloney, the herring, the parsley,
arranged in the strict, familiar ways.

Whatever intactness holds animals up
has been carefully taken, what’s left are the parts.
Just look in the cases, all counted and stacked.

Step-and-a-Half Waleski used to come to the shop
and ask for the cheap cut, she would thump, sniff, and finger.
This one too old. This one here for my supper.
Two days and you do notice change in the texture.

I have seen them the day before slaughter.
Knowing the outcome from the moment they enter
the chute, the eye rolls, blood is smeared on the lintel.
Mallet or bullet they lunge toward their darkness.

But something queer happens when the heart is delivered.
When a child is born, sometimes the left hand is stronger.
You can train it to fail, still the knowledge is there.
That is the knowledge in the hand of a butcher

that adds to its weight. Otto Kröger could fell
a dray horse with one well-placed punch to the jaw,
and yet it is well known how thorough he was.

He never sat down without washing his hands,
and he was a maker, his sausage was echt
so that even Waleski had little complaint.
Butch once remarked there was no one so deft
as my Otto. So true, there is great tact involved
in parting the flesh from the bones that it loves.

How we cling to the bones. Each joint is a web
of small tendons and fibers. He knew what I meant
when I told him I felt something pull from the left,
and how often it clouded the day before slaughter.

Something queer happens when the heart is delivered.

-- Louise Erdrich

Hap Notes: Well, there's certainly a lot going on in this monologue poem. First off, did you know that the word sinister is from the Latin, sinistra, which means lefthand? Did you know that deft is a Middle English word daft which also means gentle or humble and that deft is often a synonym for dextrous (which derived from the Latin, dexter, "on the right side" or skillful.") The heart, as we all know, I think, is on the left side.

The narrator often sits in a closed meat shop (with the case lights left on, bringing the merchandise into sharp focus) doing the account books. FYI The debit side of an account ledger is usually the left side, the right side is usually the credit side.

What does the narrator mean in the phrase "the intactness" that holds the animals up, do you think? And what about the "delivery" of the heart? "Echt" is a word of German derivation that sort of means "right, true, authentic, genuine, real.

One more thing and I'll let you sort this out for yourself. Remember in the Bible in Exodus, how one of the 10 plagues of the Egyptians was the killing of the first born son? And how the Hebrews were told to put blood on the lintels (the door posts/frames) of their homes so that the Angel of Death would pass over their households (hence the name Passover?) Just another thing to think on.

It's interesting to note that the meat is stacked in "strict familiar ways" like an account book, maybe? What is that pull from the left? Why would it affect one at a meat market, do you think?
Think also on the other meanings of the word left.

Each poem I read by Erdrich convinces me that even though she is more well known as a novelist she is really a poet. She packs an entire novel into one poem. That's the power of poetry, right there. Her poems are easy to read and yet densely packed with information. Extraordinary work.

Here is where we have talked about Erdrich before: http://happopoemouse.blogspot.com/2011/05/number-167-louise-erdrich-dear-john.html

The masthead today is a detail from Franz Marc's "The "Yellow Cow."

Number 269: Laura Elizabeth Richards "Eletelephony"

Eletelephony

Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant—
No! No! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone—
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee—
(I fear I'd better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)

-- Laura Elizabeth Richards

Hap Notes: This poem always made my mom giggle. It is included in most children's poetry anthologies and it still makes kids chuckle. Of course, there is no cord on contemporary phones in which to get tangled. The "telephunk" sounds, however, like a great description of text messages.

Laura Elizabeth Richards (1850-1953) wrote more than 90 books which include children's books , biographies and poetry. She, with co-author Maude Howe Eliot, won the first Pulizter Prize awarded for a biography, The Life of Julia Ward Howe. It's certainly an honor but not a particularly surprising one since she and her co-author were sisters and the daughters of Julia Ward Howe. Their mom wrote the lyrics to "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Their parents were noted abolitionists. Their dad started the Perkins Institution and Massachusetts School for the Blind. Quite a pedigree.

You may remember her book, Captain January, later made into a movie starring Shirley Temple. Her sequel to that book is Star Bright, which you also may remember. She wrote the "Hildegarde" series, the "Melody" series and the "Margaret" series, too. You can find many of her works for free reading here: www.gutenberg.org/browse/authors/r#a1753.

It's Saturday! Yay! So here's some cartoons, commercials and songs.

First off, the controversial crows from "Dumbo". When I was a kid, I loved these crows and did not see how intensely racist they are. I thought they were the best part of the movie. I was both ignorant and innocent. (er, maybe "was" is optimistic...) Here's "When I see an Elephant Fly."
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2d4bj592ig&feature=related

Here's a great Rollo ad featuring an elephant who never forgets: www.youtube.com/watch?v=mR6xvzXpEVo


I wanted this cereal SO MUCH when I was a kid. My mom said it was too expensive. It had a storybook on the box about Twinkles the elephant: www.youtube.com/watch?v=79mp-TTkcVM

Then there was Crispy Critters with the awesome Sheldon Leonard doing the voice for King Leonardo. My brothers and sisters used to laugh hysterically at the rush of animals and sing the song:www.youtube.com/watch?v=nG949NeSDPk&feature=results_video&playnext=1&list=PLAD44F4DA10C54C55

Apropos of nothing- here's Senor Wences on the Ed Sullivan Show. I loved him. He is amazing and spawned a cultural catchphrase with that "S'alright?" "S'alright!" interchange. Did you know the reason that the character is in a box is because his ventriloquist "dummy" broke when he was on his way to a performance? : www.youtube.com/watch?v=uEio4rQDU5A

Couldn't have elephants without Camille St. Saens' famous musical tone poem about them: www.youtube.com/watch?v=ug8hCAyBaqg


Here is the Elephant Orchestra- it's amazing: www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1NpvHsxjgw

Finally, here's Ladytron with "White Elephant": www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cKEy0BFfQw&ob=av2e