#the great enigma: new collected poems

[whisperthatruns]

Nocturne

I drive through a village at night, the houses rise up in the glare of my headlights---they're awake, want to drink. Houses, barns, signs, abandoned vehicles---now they clothe themselves in Life. ---The people are sleeping: some can sleep peacefully, others have drawn features as if training hard for eternity. They don't dare let go though their sleep is heavy. They rest like lowered crossing barriers when the mystery draws past.

Outside the village the road stretches far among the forest trees. And the trees the trees keeping silence in concord with each other. They have a theatrical color, like firelight. How distinct each leaf! They follow me home.

I lie down to sleep, I see strange pictures and signs scribbling themselves behind my eyelids on the wall of the dark. Into the slit between wakefulness and dream a large letter tries to push itself in vain. Tomas Tranströmer, tr. Robin Fulton, The Half-Finished Heaven (Den halvfärdiga himlen, 1962), The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems (New Directions Publishing, 2006)

[seemoreandmore]

But every person has their own encyclopedia written, which grows out from each soul, composed from birth onward, hundreds of thousands of pages pressing into each other and yet there’s air between them! Like trembling leaves in a forest. A book of contradictions. What’s in there is revised by the moment; the images touch themselves up, the words flicker. A wave washes through the entire text, followed by the next wave, and the next . . . -Tomas Tranströmer, The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems

[dk-thrive]

Time is not a straight line, it’s more of a labyrinth, and if you press close to the wall at the right place you can hear the hurrying steps and the voices, you can hear yourself walking past on the other side.

Tomas Tranströmer (1931-2015), from “Answers to Letters”, in: “The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems”, translated from the Swedish by Robin Fulton. (New Directions; December 8, 2011) (via finita–la–commedia)

[nonalimmen]

“The forest is full of abandoned monsters that I love.”

— Tomas Tranströmer, From His Poem ‘How The Late Autumn Night Novel Begins’, Translated By Robin Fulton, From “The Great Enigma New Collected Poems” (New Directions, 2006).

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Ian Ellison: What is it about Rainer Maria Rilke? The influence of the Bohemian Austrian poet on modern culture reads like a who’s who of the great and the good. W. H. Auden, Cecil Day-Lewis, and Edith Sitwell claimed to be directly inspired by him. The first English translations of his work, published by Leonard and Virginia Woolf’s Hogarth Press, became classics in their own right. 

He has been set to music (both classical and rock) and proven himself a Hollywood touchstone, most recently providing the concluding epigraph of Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit. Oprah Winfrey has quoted him on television and Lady Gaga has lines from his Letters to a Young Poet (1929) tattooed on her arm.

Maybe he has had such an impact because he is first and foremost a poet of the heart. He expresses those emotions we seldom desire—melancholy, longing, and loneliness above all—with such artistry and feeling that it can seem almost joyful. At the more esoteric end of things, he is regularly co-opted by New Age self-help gurus who take the closing line of his “Archaic Torso of Apollo”—“You must change your life”—as their mantra. Faced with the immensity of his work and its afterlives, you might feel like you know enough about Rilke, but the man himself has for a long time remained something of an enigma. Yet this may well be about to change.

It is rare for a poet to make headlines almost a hundred years after their death, especially for good reasons. But in early December 2022, Rilke was suddenly front-page news across Germany. In what was widely described as the purchase of the century by the German media, the Deutsches Literaturarchiv (DLA) announced it had acquired a collection of Rilke’s manuscripts comprising some 10,000 handwritten pages. These included draft poems and notes for their composition, as well as 2,500 letters written by the poet himself and a further 6,300 addressed to him. One of the most significant literary estates in postwar history, its cultural value is priceless, and it will soon be made available to the general public. A major exhibition at the Literaturmuseum der Moderne (the DLA’s next-door neighbor in Marbach) is planned for 2025 to mark the 150th anniversary of Rilke’s birth, and plans are afoot to digitize the entire collection. After being cataloged, the collection will be made available online without restriction, opening up this treasure trove to academic researchers across the globe, as well as general readers.

[Unboxing Rilke’s Nachlass :: April 6, 2023   •   By Ian Ellison]

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Reaching for the Nightingale by Beth Fox

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/reaching-for-the-nightingale-by-beth-fox/

Beth Fox loves being connected to the arts and the community of #poetry in New Hampshire. Her work is found in The Poet’s Touchstone, The Seacoast Anthology, Covid Springs II and the 2010 Poets Guide to NH. A finalist in four New England contests, she helped seniors publish their work in an anthology, Other Voices, Other Lives. It was during the pandemic that she reflected on experiences, digging deeper. The cover of her chapbook speaks to the longing she felt when putting it together. Often found on the water, Beth kayaked 35 miles on Thoreau’s wilderness route in Maine. That is an example of how she loves exploring… along the way, discovering unique lives in nature, like jumping spiders and skunk cabbage. Beth lives in Wolfeboro.

PRAISE FOR Reaching for the Nightingale by Beth Fox

Beth Fox’s provocative poems cover a lot of ground: geographically, from Tennessee to Mexico and back to New England, and, in terms of content and usage, enlisting participants that range from snapping turtles to George Washington Carver. She captures our attention with striking details and devices (in “After the Fourth Reading…” a crossed-out line is a significant part of the poem) and asks the question “Can a biscuit cure a nightmare?” With great imagination and insight, the poet gives us striking ways to look at our human condition, and, like her character Buster, catches phrases only to let them go.

–Bob Demaree is a widely published author who has several collections of poems, including After Labor Day (2017.

Beth Fox’s chapbook impresses me by both its wide scope of topics and styles, and its unpretentious yet profound insight. Twisting together poems from gun control to family history, learning race at school and at home in Tennessee to meditations on language or Covid, Fox ranges from straight narrative to oblique enigma, with a subtle imagination and delicate feeling for words evident everywhere. There are so many delights in this manuscript.

–Brian Evans-Jones is a widely published poet and teacher who was Poet Laureate of the Hampshire, England In 2017, he won the Maureen Egen Writers Award. He publishes learning resources at The Poetry Place.

On one level, these good poems, at once forthright and lyrical, give us a closely observed country life—quotidian, domestic, multigenerational. And to her portraits of home and village life, she brings what Walter Brueggemann calls a “neighborly compassion.” But there is also a politics of care woven throughout Beth Fox’s work that will not shy away from the social consequences of kindness and cruelty that shape our personal and communal histories. “It doesn’t help to know that some are okay,” says the speaker in the first section of Reaching for the Nightingale. That some are not haunts every poem in this collection.

–Kimberly Cloutier Green, past poet-laureate of Portsmouth, NH and author of The Next Hunger.

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry

[unbecoming-kiley]

“I carry inside myself my earlier faces, as a tree contains its rings. The sum of them is me. The mirror sees only my latest face, while I know all my previous ones.”

Tomas Transtromer, The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems, 2011

[soracities]

August 2nd. Something wants to be said but the words don't agree.

Tomas Tranströmer, from “Baltics”, The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems (trans. Robin Fulton)

[kitchen-light]

The forest is full of abandoned monsters that I love.

Tomas Tranströmer, from his poem ‘How the Late Autumn Night Novel Begins’, translated by Robin Fulton, from “the great enigma new collected poems” (New Directions, 2006)

[weltenwellen]

Tomas Tranströmer, tr. by Robin Fulton, from “Romanesque Arches”, The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

I carry inside myself my earlier faces, as a tree contains its rings. The sum of them is me. The mirror sees only my latest face, while I know all my previous ones.

Tomas Transtromer . “The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems” (2011)

[exhaled-spirals]

« Weary of all who come with words, words but no language, I make my way to the snow-covered island.

The untamed has no words. The unwritten pages spread out on every side!

I come upon the tracks of deer in the snow. Language but no words. »

Tomas Tranströmer, The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems

[seemoreandmore]

In day’s first hours, consciousness can grasp the world as the hand grips a sun-warmed stone. -Tomas Tranströmer from The great enigma : new collected poems

[dk-thrive]

In day’s first hours, consciousness can grasp the world as the hand grips a sun-warmed stone.

— Tomas Tranströmer, from "In Day's First Hours" in The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems (New Directions Publishing, October 17, 2006

[deans-mind-palace]

Nähkästchenplauderei

For those who didn’t know, that’s German. Normally it would be “aus dem Nähkästchen plaudern” which literally translates to “to talk out of the sewing box”. It’s a common phrase in Germany. Means something like “to spill some beans” or “to catch up on all the gossip”or “to share private information”.

Reason why I’m telling you this?

It’s me, Elena. This is a new part of my blog now. I want to involve all of you more in my daily writing and and the related funny stories, problems or ideas and inspirations. Maybe that’s interesting for you. Maybe it’s just a therapeutic exercise for me, when I’m (not) in the mood to write. Not sure yet. xD

I’ll call it “Nähkästchenplauderei” because I talk about me and writing fanfic but not really about their content. I’ll give you some insider stories about the fanfics I wrote/will write. Funny things. What happened to me during writing it, what gave me inspiration and how I do my research or what is important to me about a certain story and why I’m writing it. The daily life (cough *and struggle* cough) of a writer. If you’re not interested in these pieces of information, then you’ll see just the heading and you’ll know ‘Aaaah, that’s not a story I can read so that’s not interesting for me’. So it’s easier for you to skip. But I thought this could be interesting for you. I want to get to know you more and you can always laugh with me or smack your forehead because of my craziness. This could be fun and I am encouraging you to discuss themes or to tell me your opinion or own experiences. Of course, I hope that many of you take part. ❤️

I’ll tag you all only in this part, afterwards you can tell me, if you want to be notified. If you don’t drop a comment, I’ll automatically take you off my taglist for “Nähkästchenplauderei”. I don’t know how many parts this will have. I’ll write one every time I’m in the mood for it.

*oOo*

Nähkästchenplauderei - A blog about my blog. 

A new passion - Or the story of me buying a guitar on Amazon at 1am

I always do a lot of research for my stories. I know some authors hate it, but I love doing research. It’s like playing detective and investigating while educating myself further. I always do Pinterest boards (I can share them with you, if you want) for my series because looking at the pictures and the links inspires me during writing. The ‘Simple Man Series’ is Set in an alternative universe where Jensen is a Country singer. I had no idea about country music, to be honest. I got all my knowledge about it from watching ‘Walk the line’ but that’s it. Obviously, I needed to do research! I created a Spotify playlist for the series (which I will link as soon as it’s uploaded).

When I wrote Suspirium or collected pictures for my Pinterest boards I always listened to it. Somehow I fell in love with this kind of music. I never played an instrument because I didn’t have the patience. I played to flute in fifth grade, because it was part of the Music class. We even got grades for playing it. Let me tell you, it was a disaster! Always got Ds. Although I got an A one time. Every time I practiced the flute, my dog started to howl. You see, it really was  awful. I believe that’s why I lost the interest in playing an instrument. I still went to the choir, though, because I loved singing (still do). I always said, if I had the patience I’d love to learn the piano or the guitar, because these are basic instruments and you can play everything on them.

Guess what? I sat there and was writing Suspirium when an idea started to from in my head. There are dozens of Corona online lessons for the guitar, beginner models of guitars aren’t that expensive and you can still sell them or use them as decoration. Normally, I overthink everything. I need ages to make an decision, normally weeks or months till I lost the interest. So I did my research. Which model? Acoustic, western or concert? Which size? Guitar scale? How do I identify a quality product? Best YouTube channels? Best apps?

Found a black one and I immediately fell in love with it. And guess what? It’ll arrive by tomorrow afternoon! :D I really did it and I’m a bit proud of myself for not overthinking it! I’m looking forward to learning every song of artists I love. Adele, Pink, Ed Sheeran, Sam Smith, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkin Park, Train, Oasis, James Arthur, Tom Walker, Lewis Capaldi, James Blunt, Bruno Mars, Coldplay, Shawn Mendes, John Legend, Common Linnets, Lumineers and thousands more. Of course, some of my new Country faves, too. 

My first song will either be ‘Simple Man’ because the story was inspired by it and it was the first song that I’ve heard Jensen sing or ‘Hey there Delilah’ because I love that one right now. It’s my current catchy tune.

These will be followed by ‘The One that got away’ by Pink and ‘Bonfire heart’ by James Blunt. If these four aren’t too difficult, of course... I’ll keep you updated. :D

*oOo*

The story behind Suspirium - Or as I like to call it, the story of reviving a more than dead language.

I have that idea since I’ve started this blog some time ago. I wasn’t sure if I should make it a Dean, Sam or Cas story, so I brought my arguments up and you could decide which professor you want, remember? As soon as you chose Sam, I knew that he would be a Latin Prof. That’s based on the canon in the series and my preferences. Sam is the best in Latin in the entire series. And I am able to read, translate AND EVEN SPEAK Latin, so it’s something I can relate to. A great subject, although I know that the opinions on Latin are different. 

I can speak five languages (German - my mother tongue, English, Spanish, Dutch and Latin, I’d like to learn French soon) and I personally think Latin’s a beautiful language. Of course, it doesn’t sound as beautiful and elegant as French (although French has its origin in Latin). But a language is a lot more than the emphasis. In one of the first chaps of Suspirium Sam and Reader discuss the beauty of Latin.

“Latin is the language of law, architecture and engineering, the military, science, philosophy, religion and - of particular interest here - the language of a flourishing literature which for centuries served as a model for all Western literature. The Latin of literature speaks of love and war in hundreds of masterpieces, reflects on the body and soul, develops theories about the meaning of life and the tasks of man, about the fate of the soul and the nature of matter, sings of the beauty of nature, the meaning of friendship, the pain of losing all that is dear to one; and it criticizes depravity, ponders death, the arbitrariness of power, violence and cruelty. It creates inner images, puts emotions into words, formulates ideas about the world and social life. Latin is the language of the relationship between the one and everything.” Suspirium, Chapter 3

Roman poets are more than two millennia dead, BUT the themes they wrote about (Love, pain, friendship and braveness, also sex...) are still actual in our society. They stood the test of time. A language where no ‘thank you’ exists, just a ‘to be thankful’. This language is mysterious, its culture unbelievable nowadays. It’s like an enigma that wants to be solved - or not, depends on you and if you learn your vocabulary. Trust me, I had to learn that the hard way in seventh grade. ;) 

Sam is basically my old Latin teacher. He uses the same methods and tells the same things. He makes jokes, adds additional information and makes his students question the meaning behind the poems and stories.  Sometimes I even used words my teacher said to us. I looked up some of my Latin notes and use that for the lectures. It’s a lot of fun and that’s where I get my inspiration from. A big thank you to my teacher. This story would not work out without him always encouraging me and explaining everything to me, even if he had to do it three times. Gratiam habeo, magister. :D

Questions for you, only if you want to:

 Do you play an instrument? Which or would you like to play one?

What’ your favourite genre and who’s your favourite artist and which song?

How many languages do you speak? Which? Which would you like to speak (in addition)? 

Wanna tell me your name and origin? 

-> Next post will probably be about how I make my covers, choose GIFs, find inspiration on Pinterest and Spotify and my first friendship ever on Tumblr some years ago. And how I got in touch with SPN.

Tags beneath cut:

@ashthefirefox @rintheemolion @fortheentries @vexhye @traceyaudette @vicariouslythruspn @crazybutconfidentaf @zizzlekwum @outofnowhere82 @myopiamystical @vicmc624 @imaginationisgrowth @seven-seas-of-fuck-you @shypickleghostsuitcase @intoomuchfandoms @angeltardisbow @ayamenimthiriel @still-a-demon-very-ineffable-de @mimzy1994 @everyobsession9023 @tokiohearts483 @butterscotchseventeen @aberrant-annie @autumn-blessings @aberrant-annie @lust-for-pan @screechingartisancashbailiff @readsreblogsfics @akshi8278 @hobby27 @thewintersoldierswife @squirrelnotsam @transparentfestivaltiger

[theliterateape]

Weeping in the Dentist's Chair — Four Poems Featuring Teeth

By Dana Jerman

Dreams of the Hygienist

The marvelous myriads of stinking yellow and eternal brown.

The sun and the dirt.

The work of acids and sugars on the wet boundary of shapely enamel and hot root.

A bitter satisfaction hides inside these polished enigma.

Chipping and pulling.

Scraping and drilling season to season to celebrate the health of those endless human mouths that dutifully comprise god’s ass.

How radical and forgiving its poorly tempered shape.

Look here, pull the light low, and know how the mirror can grow a new depth from way down into black.

A Stunning Splash of Light Caught on a Necklace of Horsefly Heads

I want to take all those lines tattooed on you and turn them instead into floss to use on your barnacled mouth.

Teeth set like a ship at sail for twenty four years without port.

How can a gleam designer be so pen and ink?

So estranged grey like a fryer basket trying to collect Jupiter.

Coming home instead with hip replacements and career herpes.

I want my ache— my very own misplaced and ennui-shaped feelings for you— to mean something better than just another line.

Map Of My Dreamtown-

First Street holds an incline that does not reflect real life. At the bottom of the hill, the corner diner, with a modest amount of neon, also has black and white checkered tile.

A short way up the hill is the music store. A meeting of violin and saxophone players are there in the lights of the practice rooms on the second floor. Here my mouth forgets to bite itself with anger. Forgets its desire for lipstick or if it is wearing any.

There is a bar and a rollerskating rink holding up opposite ends of this 'ville scooped down into a high basin. The air is warm as if it is about to rain. All of my guides have led me here and even though I can't see or touch them, I am nervous they will leave.

Main Street is a runway of lights loping over its own thick horizon. As my eyes scan up and away with them I am reminded that this body needn't feel so heavy, and the dark place my mind insists on going needn't be so black.

My legs have carried me to the theatre with its marquee. And from its doors my friends come tumbling out who are happy to see me and are smoking and talking all at once as we embrace.

And right then it begins to snow. The seasons have changed and the lost feeling has vanished. The urge to notice average magic has returned, and I am not a stranger.

BAD CRAMPS

They woke you up. This is the usual. You forget they are coming, then they come at night. The first night is the worst. There is a nightmare or a really messed-up dream and then you’re conscious again. Jaw sore from dental grinding and your guts are moaning with ache. You’re too deep in it now for medicine to catch up. Not for a while.

Ache ache, bleed bleed. You manage to take some medicine. It’s hard to get up to go clean yourself up, your lower back aches like someone kicked you, but it’s always a good idea. You’ll thank yourself for it later. Anyhow, more mess is on its way. Mom said her cramps eased up after she had a kid and you say “OK mom, great, kind of a high price to pay for a few tummy twists, that’s not really happening…”

In either case you’re pretty lucky. Your ache is not as bad as the ache-ache-bleed-bleed of some others who need constant medicine and other means to help ease and regulate the symptoms.

But now you’re awake and topless. It’s still quite dark. It’s maybe 3am and you will have trouble getting back to sleep but who cares you love this hour anyway when it’s quiet, and there’s nothing else to do in the morning but swim.

You’re on vacation for the week with your family in a nice lakeside cabin with a remote, cozy room all to yourself. The bedside table lamp is made of popsicle sticks and seems to glow all over when you click it on, like a strong candle behind a Japanese paper screen. You’ll be listening to music thru headphones and grabbing your pillow and writhing in this low bunk-style bed for the next few hours.

Chances are you’ll sweat back to sleep before dawn.