Not to say non-existent, it is at least rare to find in this so-called lyric-love poetry verses in which a real experience is sung, something truly high and beautiful as seen in Dante. On the other hand, no matter the language or the time, one always finds the very same elements that bore the reader who is thirsty for some elevation. Of course, of course: there are exceptions; but the compassion that most of these poets arouse has nothing to do with the verses they have written. Sadly, they seem like children deluded by the futile, who lived by feeding on this never realized desire that maturity would disperse. Maturity, that is, wisdom or experience. Both seem to have been lacking, otherwise they would have found something more noble to direct their attention to.
Tag: literature
There Are Many Advantages to Publishing Small Volumes…
There are many advantages to publishing small volumes on a regular basis rather than letting the work grow indefinitely. The first is the more tolerable distribution of the revision work. Another, and perhaps the main one, is that one does not know when death will come, and it is good to avoid the risk of having passages published that would never pass the most faulty and inattentive revision, as one sees a lot in Kafka’s Diaries. What irony! Kafka, who loved to label as bad and burn what he wrote, had published in its entirety, with obvious errors and many idle lines, a work that he would probably have thrown on the bonfire. No doubt, it is something that could have been avoided.
The “Headquarters of Noise”
Kafka, in his Diaries, cheekily names his room as a “headquarters of noise”. He complains about the slamming of doors, the trotting of hurried footsteps, the dragging of robes, the scraping of ashes, the shouting… Oh, my dear Mr. Kafka, it was God who freed you from the sertanejo music, from the mad cursing of referees, central defenders and side-backs! You never knew what it was like to interrupt a composition with punches on the wall, with the heavy heels of an elephant just above your ceiling! To read with the unbearable sound of the drums of a gospel band, memorizing the chants of the cult instead of understanding the lines read! Be thankful, my dear! You lived when there was not yet this mobile phone crap, when churches did not have microphones, amplifiers, and did not set up on every corner, especially yours, no matter how many times you changed your address!…
Vigny and I
Much of what Vigny says about himself I could attribute to me without changing a comma. I have, like Vigny, this “besoin éternel
d’organization”, without which I cannot move; I am, like him, “seul”, “exempt de tout fanatisme”; life has also taken care to endow me with this “sévérité froide et un peu sombre” which is not innate; as for the creative method, identically I conceive, plan, mold, and let cool down before the final execution; I could also say with all my soul that “l’indépendance fut toujours mon désir”; I also share Vigny’s repugnance to futility, fruit of someone who, being “toujours en conversation avec moi-même”, finds in the hindrance of interruptions always a reason for frustrations… and the list could go on. Vigny, however, makes the point: “Aimer, inventer, admirer, voilà ma vie.” Ah, Monsieur! Regrettably, these words of yours I can no longer subscribe to…. But it is okay: God gave me the sense of humor.