Poetry

Visual arts, music, poetry and other forms of art.
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Cancer
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Re: Poetry

Postby Cancer » Wed Feb 05, 2020 4:40 pm

Inspired by what I posted in the ”Mundane rituals”-thread, I ended up attempting a translation of a poem that deals with many of the same themes. I notice that the English-language text sounds way harsher than the original, which was intended as a mixed, even torn summing-up of my feelings about my home — oppressive mundanity, boredom, and emotional stuntedness on the one hand, safe and stable no-nonsense on the other. (The old women’s laughter, for instance, is meant as amicable, if a bit annoying.) Instead, the translation just sounds horribly depressing XD. Oh well...

The title refers to one of the neighborhoods in which I grew up.


Laajasalo, 2018 (or: oblivion has the cost of rent)

mother full of poison and husky love
slowly blackening from the inside

old women at the local bar
laughing at my books and vegan food

and cigarettes, still, acid breasts
from which I keep sucking the forceful past

the heart’s thicket full of trash
bitter geography burnt to memory
Tiden läker inga sår.
obnoxion
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Re: Poetry

Postby obnoxion » Sun Feb 16, 2020 10:04 pm

I have often mentioned how the Tantric Buddhist myth of Rudra is, for me, most satisfying myth that deals with the problem of evil. (A most complete and expertly commented translation of this myth can be found from Joseph P. Dalton's "The Taming of the Demons: Violence and Liberation in Tibetan Buddhism").

Now, there are a few BM lyricist who are pure poets, most evidently Dani Filth and Varg Vikernes. But one of my early influences has been Cannibal Corpse-era Chris Barnes. When I was 13 years old, I translated with my dictionary the texts to the "Tomb of the Mutilated". I am not the only one who sees in this album a unified whole, describing an unspeakable desdend into depravity. Later I have thought that this album could represent a snapshot from Rudra's career of evil.

Another take on the same theme is found, I think, from Renee Vivien's prose poem "The Impossible Perfection" (Renee Vivien: "Lilith's Legacy - Prose Poems and Short Stories"). This poet was mentioned in our "Satanic Feminism" reading group, in fra Nefastos' latest post. I did not found the poem through internet search, so I wanted make it available:


THE IMPOSSIBLE PERFECTION
Renee Vivien
Translated from French by Brian Stableford


A man anxious to develop his soul to the point of perfection meditated upon the words of the Saints and Prophets for a long time.

Christ,
he thought, was not the perfect being. He poured forgiveness on abominations committed, but the abyss of sin was unknown to him. That God who was made man was ignorant of half of human joys and dolors. He was a stranger to the dazzle of desire and the magnificent anguish of remorse. The man who has not sinned is not the perfect.

And the man who aspired to the absolute beauty of his soul decided to know all the defects and all the lusts that damn and save humans.

He wanted to know the charm of murder.

And, knowing that modern life only offers poor soil in which the bloody flower of crime is etiolating, he fled toward ardent and free spaces.

Amid the gold of overturned cups and the breath of roses, he ordered the burning of naked women.

He invented refined tortures in which amour espoused death.

Before crucifying them, he intoxicated the passivity of ephebes and the pollution of children.

One evening, he incarnated Heliogabalus; one night, he resuscitated Nero.

Then, weary, he returned to incomplete civilization. He was the Gambler whose triumphal march sowed thousands of ruinations.

Around his dwelling, faces of hunger and despair grimaced.

He had heard the appeals of the distressed and the gasps of suicide.

In the crimson of a summer dusk, he raped his sister; and he murdered his father secretly.

He was the anonymous thief who robbed passers-by in the mystery of the streets and the shadows of highways.

He was vulgar assassin who goes to sleep on the tender heart of a prostitute.

He knew all disgusts, all shames, all cowardices and all glories.

Then, recovering the broad peace of the autumnal countryside, he thought about repentance. He remembered his superhuman aspirations of old.

Before the insignificance of his crimes, the mediocricity of the most enormous sins, he was unable to savor the somber and mystical splendor of Repentance.

He dreamed of a magnanimous death that would leave in the depths of the human heart an eternal reflection of horror and pity; but a banal fever came one day to surprise him in his bed. Thus died the man who had only lacked a little in order to become the perfect Being.
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
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Polyhymnia
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Re: Poetry

Postby Polyhymnia » Sun Feb 23, 2020 12:26 am

Thank you for making it available!! I have been curious about Renee Vivien since reading about her in SF.
"Limited love asks for possession of the beloved, but the unlimited asks only for itself." -Kahlil Gibran
obnoxion
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Re: Poetry

Postby obnoxion » Thu Mar 05, 2020 9:21 pm

Abhinavagupta (c. 950 – 1016 AD) that most illustrious polymath and the master of nondual shaivism, was topic of many legends. One legend tells of his death. It is said that he went to the Bhairava cave with 1200 disciples. Therein he recited the favourite one of his devotional poems, the Bhairava-stava, and all 1201 of them disapeared into transcendental world. Here is that devotional poem first in Sanskrit, and then in transliteration and translation. It is a very consoling poem, from which one can extract many meditative sentences. For me, the sentence " You are a shower of nectar of unity that restores my body in a State of suffering" is something I've been repeating in my mind lately.

The poem is lifted from aghori.it webpage (http://www.aghori.it/bhairava_stava_eng.htm)


BHAIRAVA-STAVA
Abhinavagupta

भैरवस्तव

व्याप्तचराचरभावविशेषं

चिन्मयमेकमनन्तमनादिम् |

भैरवनाथमनाथशरण्यं

त्वन्मयचित्ततया हृदि वन्दे || १ ||



त्वन्मयमेतदशेषमिदानीं

भाति मम त्वदनुग्रहशक्त्या |

त्वं च महेश सदैव ममात्मा

स्वात्ममयं मम तेन समस्तम् || २ ||


स्वात्मनि विश्वग(ये )ते त्वयि नाथे

तेन न संसृतिभीतिकथास्ति |

सत्स्वपि दुर्धरदुःखविमोह-

त्रासविधायिषु कर्मगणेषु || ३ ||


अन्तक मां प्रति मा दृशमेनां

क्रोधकरालतमां विनिधेहि |

शङ्करसेवनचिन्तनधीरो

भीषण भैरव शक्तिमयोऽस्मि || ४ ||


इत्थमुपोढभवन्मयसंवि-

द्दीधितिदारितभूरितमिस्रः |

मृत्युयमान्तककर्मपिशाचै-

र्नाथ नमोऽस्तु न जातु बिभेमि || ५ ||


प्रोदितसत्यविबोधमरीचि-

प्रेक्षितविश्वपदार्थसतत्त्वः |

भावपरामृतनिर्भरपूर्णे

त्वय्यहमात्मनि निर्वृतिमेमि || ६ ||


मानसगोचरमेति यदैव

क्लेशदशाऽतनुतापविधात्री |

नाथ तदैव मम त्वदभेद-

स्तोत्रपरामृतवृष्टिरुदेति || ७ ||


शङ्कर सत्यमिदं व्रतदान-

स्नानतपो भवतापविदारि |

तावकशास्त्रपरामृतचिन्ता

स्यन्दति चेतसि निर्वृतिधाराम् || ८ ||


नृत्यति गायति हृष्यति गाढं

संविदियं मम भैरवनाथ |

त्वां प्रियमाप्य सुदर्शनमेकं

दुर्लभमन्यजनैः समयज्ञम् || ९ ||


वसुरसपौषे कृष्णदशम्यां

अभिनवगुप्तः स्तवमिममकरोत् |

येन विभुर्भवमरुसन्तापं

शमयति झटिति जनस्य दयालुः || १० ||


|| समाप्तं स्तवमिदं अभिनवाख्यं पद्यनवकम् ||


TRANSLITERATION AND TRANSLATION


vyāptacarācarabhāvaviśeṣaṃ

cinmayamekamanantamanādim |

bhairavanāthamanāthaśaraṇyaṃ

tvanmayacittatayā hṛdi vande || 1 ||


To Him who pervades the consciousness of all moving and non-moving beings, which is divine, only one, endless and primeval, which is Lord Bhairava, who is the refuge for the helpless, to Him who is in my mind with all my heart I offer my salutations.


tvanmayametadaśeṣamidānīṃ

bhāti mama tvadanugrahaśaktyā |

tvaṃ ca maheśa sadaiva mamātmā

svātmamayaṃ mama tena samastam || 2 ||


Oh Mahesh! With the grace of thy blessing this whole universe is nothing more than your manifestation. Wherever I see You and my soul is completely full of You.


svātmani viśvaga(ye)te tvayi nāthe

tena na saṃsṛtibhītikathāsti |

satsvapi durdharaduḥkhavimoha-

trāsavidhāyiṣu karmagaṇeṣu || 3 ||


In this world You are the Lord of my soul, because of this in my life there is no fear of difficulties and pain, which are the result of this cycle of birth and death.


antaka māṃ prati mā dṛśamenāṃ

krodhakarālatamāṃ vinidhehi |

śaṅkarasevanacintanadhīro

bhīṣaṇa bhairava śaktimayo.asmi || 4 ||


Oh Antaka, Lord of Death! Do not cast your awful look on me. Oh Brave who always thinks of serving the Lord Shankara. Oh mighty Bhairava, Lord of creation, sustenance and destruction, give me the strength.


itthamupoḍhabhavanmayasaṃvi-

ddīdhitidāritabhūritamisraḥ |

mṛtyuyamāntakakarmapiśācai-

rnātha namo ̕stu na jātu bibhemi || 5 ||


Oh Lord of the worlds! Salutations to You. I melt in the rays coming from the splendor of Your Light, which dissipate the darkness of ignorance and the fear of ghosts of the Lord of Death.


proditasatyavibodhamarīci-

prekṣitaviśvapadārthasatattvaḥ |

bhāvaparāmṛtanirbharapūrṇe

tvayyahamātmani nirvṛtimemi || 6 ||


Oh ray of light of eternal truth, universal consciousness of the world, who has a nature full of Divine nectar. My soul filled with ecstasy salutes You.


mānasagocarameti yadaiva

kleśadaśā ̕tanutāpavidhātrī |

nātha tadaiva mama tvadabheda-

stotraparāmṛtavṛṣṭirudeti || 7 ||


Oh Lord you're attainable by the mind through meditation, You are a shower of nectar of unity that restores my body in a State of suffering.


śaṅkara satyamidaṃ vratadāna-

snānatapo bhavatāpavidāri |

tāvakaśāstraparāmṛtacintā

syandati cetasi nirvṛtidhārām || 8 ||


Oh Shankara, it is true that penance, charity, bathing in sacred water and meditation break the pain cycle of birth and death, but the rain of nectar that flows from your divine story leads to salvation.


nṛtyati gāyati hṛṣyati gāḍhaṃ

saṃvidiyaṃ mama bhairavanātha |

tvāṃ priyamāpya sudarśanamekaṃ

durlabhamanyajanaiḥ samayajnam || 9 ||


Oh Lord Bhairava! It is well known that You are easily accessible by devotees, but inaccessible to people with no devotion. My conscience, having realized your true nature, sings and dances in Ecstasy.


vasurasapauṣe kṛṣṇadaśamyāṃ

abhinavaguptaḥ stavamimamakarot |

yena vibhurbhavamarusantāpaṃ

śamayati jhaṭiti janasya dayāluḥ || 10 ||


Abhinavagupta wrote this great prayer on the tenth day of the dark fortnight of the month of Pausha, and with this hymn the Lord Bhairava, all pervading and full of compassion, destroys all the miseries of his devotees.

samāptaṃ stavamidaṃ abhinavākhyaṃ padyanavakam ||

Thus ends the hymn of nine stanzas written by Abhinavagupta.
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
obnoxion
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Re: Poetry

Postby obnoxion » Mon Mar 09, 2020 5:54 pm

I am reading many anthollogies, studies and collections of Decadent poetry. One of the nicer anthologies is a selection by Jon Crabb, and focuses on Decadent literature in Brittain. I was very fond of Ernest Dowson's poem, which Crabb introduces thus: "This poem full of imagery evocative of magic and witchcraft, but is also tinged with death and melancholy. The lines suggest the decadents share a kinship with witches who 'wander through the meaning of a day and see no light'."

I don't know if there is Shakespearean influence to the theme, but be that as it may, witches are among my favourite topics for poetry. The poem has nice repetetive, asymmetrically chiastic structure, which gives the poem a spell-like manner.

THE THREE WITCHES
Ernst Dowson, 1896


All the moon-shed nights are over,
And the days of gray and dun;
There is neither may nor clover,
And the day and night are one.

Not an hamlet, not a city
Meets our strained and tearless eyes;
In the plain without a pity,
Where the wan grass droops and dies.

We shall wander through the meaning
Of a day and see no light,
For our lichened arms are leaning
On the ends of endless night.

We, the children of Astarte,
Dear abortions of the moon,
In a gay and silent party,
We are riding to you soon.

Burning ramparts, ever burning!
To the flame which never dies
We are yearning, yearning, yearning,
With our gay and tearless eyes.

In the plain without a pity,
(Not an hamlet, not a city)
Where the wan grass droops and dies.
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
obnoxion
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Re: Poetry

Postby obnoxion » Wed Mar 25, 2020 2:19 pm

On our Finnish topic on Sylvia Plath's poetry, I compared the blackness in her "Crossing the Water" with ink bottle that has fallen and spilled on the paper. On this poem, in the words of ArputhaRani Sengupta ("Cult of the Goddess", National Museum Institue, NewDelhi, 2015; p. 1 - 2.): "Kazi Nazrum Islam's original writing in Bengali is unique devotional poem that plays on the word kali for ink, which is the name of the black goddess seen as universal mother."

O mother of mine,
There's ink on my hands,
ink on my face.
The neighbours laugh.
My education amounts to nothing.
I see "ShyaMa" in the letter M
And Kali in the letter K,
I dance and clap my hands.
Only my tears multiply
when my eyes light
on the rows of black marks
in multiplication tables.
I couldn't care less for
the alphabet's shades of sound
since your dark, lovely shade
isn't among them.
But mother, I can read
all that you write
on the leaves in the forest,
on the waters of the sea,
and in the ledger of the sky.
Let them call me illiterate.

- Kazi Nazrul Islam -
One day of Brahma has 14 Indras; his life has 54 000 Indras. One day of Vishnu is the lifetime of Brahma. The lifetime of Vishnu is one day of Shiva.
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Polyhymnia
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Re: Poetry

Postby Polyhymnia » Sat Mar 28, 2020 5:40 am

Cancer wrote:
Wed Feb 05, 2020 4:40 pm
Inspired by what I posted in the ”Mundane rituals”-thread, I ended up attempting a translation of a poem that deals with many of the same themes. I notice that the English-language text sounds way harsher than the original, which was intended as a mixed, even torn summing-up of my feelings about my home — oppressive mundanity, boredom, and emotional stuntedness on the one hand, safe and stable no-nonsense on the other. (The old women’s laughter, for instance, is meant as amicable, if a bit annoying.) Instead, the translation just sounds horribly depressing XD. Oh well...

The title refers to one of the neighborhoods in which I grew up.


Laajasalo, 2018 (or: oblivion has the cost of rent)

mother full of poison and husky love
slowly blackening from the inside

old women at the local bar
laughing at my books and vegan food

and cigarettes, still, acid breasts
from which I keep sucking the forceful past

the heart’s thicket full of trash
bitter geography burnt to memory
Thank you for sharing this piece with us. For what it's worth I was able to pick up on your nuances thanks to your intro to it, and it didn't read as depressing to me.
"Limited love asks for possession of the beloved, but the unlimited asks only for itself." -Kahlil Gibran
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Polyhymnia
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Re: Poetry

Postby Polyhymnia » Sat Mar 28, 2020 5:49 am

I've been waiting WEEKS to have a night to myself to have a bath, drink some wine, and read poetry, and tonight finally came. I was originally going to read some Lord Byron, but for some reason ended up picking Selected Poems of Rabindranath Tagore.

The first poem in the book was just an echo of my Secret Doctrine studies of this week. Here is verse 1-20, though the whole piece is wonderful.

Brahma, Visnu, Siva

In a wordless timeless lightless great emptiness
Four faced Brahma broods.
Of a sudden a sea of joy surges through his heart-
The ur-god opens his eyes.

Speech from four mouths
Speeds to each quarter.
Through infinite dark,
Through limitless sky,
Like a growing sea-storm,
Like hope never sated,
His Word starts to move.

Stirred by joy, his breathing quickens,
His eight eyes quiver with flame.
His fire-matted hair sweeps the horizon,
Bright as a million suns.

From the towering source of the world
In a thousand streams
Cascades the primeval blaming fountain
Fragmenting silence,
Splitting its stone heart.
"Limited love asks for possession of the beloved, but the unlimited asks only for itself." -Kahlil Gibran

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