tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69974325839838342842024-02-06T22:05:06.695-08:00Joyce's poems annotatedTim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-34003991426186141932016-04-30T07:21:00.001-07:002016-04-30T07:21:17.380-07:00Chamber Music<br />
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<iframe height="700" src="http://hdl.handle.net/2027/loc.ark:/13960/t2h719n01?urlappend=%3Bui=embed" width="450"></iframe>
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<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-87109315544805205722016-03-31T07:22:00.000-07:002016-04-30T11:04:24.066-07:00Pomes Penyeach<br />
[<a href="http://jfj-art.com/joycespeak/pdf/Poems.pdf">pdf</a>]<br />
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<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/tilly.html">Tilly</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/watching-needleboats-at-san-sabba.html">Watching the Needleboats at San Sabba</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/a-flower-given-to-my-daughter.html">A Flower Given to My Daughter</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/she-weeps-over-rahoon.html">She Weeps over Rahoon</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/tutto-e-sciolto.html">Tutto è sciolto</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/on-beach-at-fontana.html">On the Beach at Fontana</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/simples.html">Simples</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/flood.html">Flood</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/nightpiece.html">Nightpiece</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/alone.html">Alone</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/a-memory-of-players-in-mirror-at.html">A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/bahnhofstrasse.html">Bahnhofstrasse</a>
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/a-prayer.html">A Prayer</a>
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<br />
Tilly (Dublin, 1904, originally known as "Cabra")<br />
Watching the Needleboats at San Sabba (Trieste, 1912)<br />
A Flower Given to My Daughter (Trieste, 1913)<br />
She Weeps over Rahoon (Trieste, 1913)<br />
Tutto è sciolto (Trieste, 13 July 1914)<br />
On the Beach at Fontana (Trieste, 1914)<br />
Simples (Trieste, 1914)<br />
Flood (Trieste, 1915)<br />
Nightpiece (Trieste, 22 January 1915)<br />
Alone (Zurich,1916)<br />
A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight (Zurich, 1917)<br />
Bahnhofstrasse (Zurich, 1918)<br />
A Prayer (Paris 1924)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.zb.uzh.ch/ausstellungen/mam/ausstellung_6293/lieferung1/ax_5816_alone.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.zb.uzh.ch/ausstellungen/mam/ausstellung_6293/lieferung1/ax_5816_alone.jpeg" height="422" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://donyorty.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/On-the-Beach-at-Fontana1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://donyorty.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/On-the-Beach-at-Fontana1.jpg" height="640" width="458" /></a></div>
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<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-67299186375003486652016-03-29T07:33:00.000-07:002016-04-30T07:56:02.458-07:00Tilly<br />
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Tilly
</b></span>
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(Dublin, 1904, originally known as "Cabra")<br />
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
He travels after a winter sun,
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Urging the cattle along a cold red road,
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Calling to them, a voice they know,
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
He drives his beasts above Cabra.
</b></span>
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The voice tells them home is warm.
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
They moo and make brute music with their hoofs.
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
He drives them with a flowering branch before him,
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Smoke pluming their foreheads.
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Boor, bond of the herd,
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Tonight stretch full by the fire!
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
I bleed by the black stream
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
For my torn bough!
</b></span>
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<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-11309795693997614842016-03-27T07:34:00.000-07:002016-04-30T08:29:06.548-07:00Watching the Needleboats at San Sabba<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.thisisitaly-panorama.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/trieste-645x385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.thisisitaly-panorama.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/trieste-645x385.jpg" height="382" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Watching the Needleboats at San Sabba
</b></span>
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(Trieste, 1912?) [<a href="http://jamesjoyce.ie/tag/watching-the-needleboats-at-san-sabba/">1913</a>]<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
I heard their young hearts crying
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Loveward above the glancing oar
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And heard the prairie grasses sighing:
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
<i>No more, return no more!</i>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
O hearts, O sighing grasses,
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Vainly your loveblown bannerets mourn!
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.tfd.com/wn/B2/6921C-banneret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.tfd.com/wn/B2/6921C-banneret.jpg" height="307" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
No more will the wild wind that passes
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Return, no more return.
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<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-20481576177764543852016-03-25T07:34:00.000-07:002016-04-30T10:32:58.195-07:00A Flower Given to My Daughter<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flashpointmag.com/lucia1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.flashpointmag.com/lucia1.jpg" height="494" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flashpointmag.com/lucia1largeA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.flashpointmag.com/lucia1largeA.jpg" height="358" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.museojoycetrieste.it/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/JT-05-05bis-204x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.museojoycetrieste.it/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/JT-05-05bis-204x300.jpg" height="400" width="272" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A Flower Given to My Daughter
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 17.5px; line-height: 28px;">(Trieste, 1913)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 17.5px; line-height: 28px;">when Lucia was six</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Frail the white rose and frail are
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Her hands that gave
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Whose soul is sere and paler
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Than time's wan wave.
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Rosefrail and fair — yet frailest
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A wonder wild
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
In gentle eyes thou veilest,
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
My blueveined child.
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<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-76721952888164700162016-03-23T07:35:00.000-07:002016-04-30T08:42:50.680-07:00She Weeps over Rahoon<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m18!1m12!1m3!1d76344.85922142811!2d-9.162592943441467!3d53.27561781769974!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!3m3!1m2!1s0x485b964587a3c84b%3A0x915f40fbf4b55098!2sRahoon%2C+Barnacranny%2C+Co.+Galway%2C+Ireland!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1462030528431" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
She Weeps over Rahoon
</b></span>
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<br />
<br />
(Trieste, 1913)<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling,
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Where my dark lover lies.
</b></span>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.britishwargraves.co.uk/userimages/RenvyleCathCemWeb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.britishwargraves.co.uk/userimages/RenvyleCathCemWeb.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rahoon Cemetery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Sad is his voice that calls me, sadly calling,
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
At grey moonrise.
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Love, hear thou
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
How soft, how sad his voice is ever calling,
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Ever unanswered, and the dark rain falling,
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Then as now.
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Dark too our hearts, O love, shall lie and cold
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
As his sad heart has lain
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Under the moongrey nettles, the black mould
</b></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And muttering rain.
</b></span>
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<br />
<a href="http://www.geneticjoycestudies.org/GJS6/GJS6Natali.htm">fdv</a>:<br />
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" id="table5" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: medium none;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border: 1pt solid windowtext; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: solid solid solid none; border-top-color: windowtext; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 22px;">TYP 1915 (Cornell 54), lines 1-8</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: solid solid solid none; border-top-color: windowtext; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 22px;">MS 1919 (Huntington E.6.b), lines 1-8</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">1</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling,</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling,</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">2</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Where my dark lover lies</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Sad</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;"> is his voice that calls me, sadly calling,</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">3</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Soft</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;"> is the voice that calls me, softly calling,</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Where my dark lover lies.</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">4</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">At grey moonrise</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">At grey moonrise.</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td height="17" style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</td><td height="17" style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">5</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Love, hear thou</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Love, hear thou</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">6</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">How <b>sad</b>, how old the heart is, ever calling,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">How <b>soft</b>, how sad his voice is ever calling,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">7</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Ever unanswered – and the dark rain falling,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Ever unanswered, and the dark rain falling,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">8</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Then as now.-</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Then as now.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">[...]</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">[...]</span></div>
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Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-41342714718603025872016-03-21T07:36:00.000-07:002016-04-30T08:45:38.979-07:00Tutto è sciolto<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Tutto è sciolto
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(Trieste, 13 July 1914)<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
The title, "Tutto è Sciolto", can be translated as "All is lost now", and is a quotation from the opera The Sleepwalker (La Sonnambula) by Vincenzo Bellini. (literally: Everything is melted)<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A birdless heaven, seadusk, one lone star
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Piercing the west,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And thou, fond heart, love's time, so faint, so far,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Rememberest.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Her clear young eyes' soft look, the candid brow,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The fragrant hair,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Falling as through the silence falleth now
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Dusk of the air.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Why then, remembering those shy
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Sweet lures, repine
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
When the dear love she yielded with a sigh
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Was all but thine?
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.geneticjoycestudies.org/GJS6/GJS6Natali.htm">fdv</a>:<br />
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 22px;">TYP 1915 (Cornell 54)</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; line-height: 22px;">MS 1927 (Huntington E.6.b)</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Tutto è Sciolto</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Tutto è Sciolto</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">1</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">A birdles heaven, seadusk <b>and a star</b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">A birdless heaven, seadusk, <b>one lone star</b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">2</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">In the dim west–</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Piercing the west,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">3</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">And thou, poor heart, love's image, faint and far</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">As thou, fond heart, love's time, so faint, so far,</span></div>
</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB">4</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Rememberest!</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Rememberest.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">5</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Her</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;"> silent eyes and <b>her</b> soft foamwhite brow</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">The</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;"> clear young eyes' soft look, <b>the</b> candid brow,</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">6</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">And fragrant hair,</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">The fragrant hair,</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">7</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Falling as in the silence falleth now</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Falling as through the silence falleth now</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">8</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Dusk from the air.</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Dusk of the air.</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">9</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Ah, why wilt thou remember this or why,</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Why then, remembering those shy</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">10</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Poor heart repine</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Sweet <b>lures</b>, repine</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">11</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">If the sweet love she gave thee with a sigh</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">When the dear love she yielded with a sigh</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB">12</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Was never thine?</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Was all but thine?</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-14944009036043304092016-03-19T07:37:00.000-07:002016-04-30T11:04:59.385-07:00On the Beach at Fontana<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m18!1m12!1m3!1d3264505.8025921946!2d12.964751004821146!3d36.96220137991552!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!3m3!1m2!1s0x13122d6fb704423d%3A0x72cdb08a1af809df!2sHotel+Fontane+Bianche+Beach+Resort!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1462032410217" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/9a/fe/7c/9afe7c03d2e76d5fc781d69cc7b2690d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/9a/fe/7c/9afe7c03d2e76d5fc781d69cc7b2690d.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
On the Beach at Fontana
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
(Trieste, 1914)<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Wind whines and whines the shingle,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The crazy pierstakes groan;
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A senile sea numbers each single
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Slimesilvered stone.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
From whining wind and colder
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Grey sea I wrap him warm
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And touch his trembling fineboned shoulder
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And boyish arm.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Around us fear, descending
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Darkness of fear above
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And in my heart how deep unending
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Ache of love!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhxR67HnQYnUoBMIv5U9cHJeREXBLTOHzJ_rx2V2HQXrumG7Drhp1Po1nytxFrA6MIGu6cSrlE5b1tGUlXgWDILUNRNP-eOttE9hLei2RZquSMF-DiLybhdsRdq8tZebdVC-5kxkLHjei19I40ncnnPRULdJVGT2w7SyLLnTWzGL2yC86veQDFvjrOMSy9w1lo=" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhxR67HnQYnUoBMIv5U9cHJeREXBLTOHzJ_rx2V2HQXrumG7Drhp1Po1nytxFrA6MIGu6cSrlE5b1tGUlXgWDILUNRNP-eOttE9hLei2RZquSMF-DiLybhdsRdq8tZebdVC-5kxkLHjei19I40ncnnPRULdJVGT2w7SyLLnTWzGL2yC86veQDFvjrOMSy9w1lo=" width="458" /></a></div>
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Simples
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(Trieste, 1914)<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
<i>O bella bionda,</i></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Sei come l'onda!</b></span>
<br />
<br />
[<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0r_pRhtH7Qg">song</a>]<br />
Fair as the wave is, fair, art thou! (see below)<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Of cool sweet dew and radiance mild
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The moon a web of silence weaves
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
In the still garden where a child
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Gathers the simple salad leaves.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A moondew stars her hanging hair
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And moonlight kisses her young brow
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And, gathering, she sings an air:
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
<i>Fair as the wave is, fair, art thou!</i>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Be mine, I pray, a waxen ear
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
To shield me from her childish croon
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And mine a shielded heart for her
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Who gathers simples of the moon.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-52777711733464339482016-03-15T07:39:00.000-07:002016-04-30T10:21:36.941-07:00Flood<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Flood
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
(Trieste, 1915)<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Goldbrown upon the sated flood
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The rockvine clusters lift and sway
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Vast wings above the lambent waters brood
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Of sullen day.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A waste of waters ruthlessly
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Sways and uplifts its weedy mane
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Where brooding day stares down upon the sea
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
In dull disdain.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Uplift and sway, O golden vine,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Your clustered fruits to love's full flood,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Lambent and vast and ruthless as is thine
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Incertitude!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-72360570354656730192016-03-13T07:40:00.000-07:002016-04-30T10:25:57.472-07:00Nightpiece<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Nightpiece
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
(Trieste, 22 January 1915)<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Gaunt in gloom
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The pale stars their torches
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Enshrouded wave.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Ghostfires from heaven's far verges faint illume
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Arches on soaring arches,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Night's sindark nave.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Seraphim
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The lost hosts awaken
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
To service till
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
In moonless gloom each lapses, muted, dim
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Raised when she has and shaken
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Her thurible.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.eyeofthetiber.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/Thurible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.eyeofthetiber.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/Thurible.jpg" height="372" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And long and loud
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
To night's nave upsoaring
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A starknell tolls
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
As the bleak incense surges, cloud on cloud,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Voidward from the adoring
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Waste of souls.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-34386782987166652932016-03-11T07:41:00.000-08:002016-04-30T10:25:35.642-07:00Alone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.zb.uzh.ch/ausstellungen/mam/ausstellung_6293/lieferung1/ax_5816_alone.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.zb.uzh.ch/ausstellungen/mam/ausstellung_6293/lieferung1/ax_5816_alone.jpeg" height="422" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Alone
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(Zurich,1916)<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The moon's greygolden meshes make
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
All night a veil,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Laburnum tendrils trail.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The sly reeds whisper to the night
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A name— her name—
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And all my soul is a delight,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A swoon of shame.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-20187140723012527362016-03-09T07:41:00.000-08:002016-04-30T10:30:00.196-07:00A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(Zurich, 1917)<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
They mouth love's language. Gnash
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The thirteen teeth
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Your lean jaws grin with. Lash
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Love's breath in you is stale, worded or sung,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
As sour as cat's breath,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Harsh of tongue.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
This grey that stares
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Lies not, stark skin and bone.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Leave greasy lips their kissing. None
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Will choose her what you see to mouth upon.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Dire hunger holds his hour.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Pluck and devour!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.geneticjoycestudies.org/GJS6/GJS6Natali.htm">fdv</a>:<br />
<br />
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" id="table8" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: medium none;"><tbody>
<tr><td height="28" style="border: 1pt solid windowtext; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</td><td height="28" style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: solid solid solid none; border-top-color: windowtext; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div align="center" class="Citazione" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid;">
<i><span lang="FR" style="font-size: 11pt;">MS 1917 (Buffalo IV.A.2, fragment), </span><span lang="IT" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">lines 10-11</span></i></div>
</td><td height="28" style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: solid solid solid none; border-top-color: windowtext; border-width: 1pt 1pt 1pt medium; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div align="center" class="Citazione" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">MS 1919 (Huntington E.6.b), </span><span lang="IT" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">lines 10-11</span></i></div>
</td></tr>
<tr style="height: 19pt;"><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; height: 32px; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div class="MsoNormal" style="page-break-after: avoid; text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">10</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; height: 32px; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="Citazione" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">This grey that stares</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; height: 32px; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="Citazione" style="page-break-after: avoid;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">This grey that stares</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr style="height: 15.4pt;"><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-left-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt; height: 33px; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 23.4pt;" valign="top" width="31"><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">11</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; height: 33px; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 234pt;" valign="top" width="312"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt;">Will choose what you see to gaze upon</span></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-right-color: windowtext; border-style: none solid solid none; border-width: medium 1pt 1pt medium; height: 33px; padding: 0cm 5.4pt; width: 231.5pt;" valign="top" width="309"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 22px;">Will choose <b>her</b> what you see to mouth upon.</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="left" class="Citazione" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="Citazione" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-18429646082044371622016-03-07T07:42:00.000-08:002016-04-30T10:29:31.631-07:00Bahnhofstrasse<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.zb.uzh.ch/ausstellungen/mam/ausstellung_6293/bx_570_bahnhofstrasse_zuerich_1918.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.zb.uzh.ch/ausstellungen/mam/ausstellung_6293/bx_570_bahnhofstrasse_zuerich_1918.jpeg" height="498" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Bahnhofstrasse
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(Zurich, 1918)<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The eyes that mock me sign the way
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Whereto I pass at eve of day.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Grey way whose violet signals are
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The trysting and the twining star.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Ah star of evil! star of pain!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Highhearted youth comes not again
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Nor old heart's wisdom yet to know
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
The signs that mock me as I go.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-83056054653215774112016-03-05T07:42:00.000-08:002016-04-30T10:31:00.413-07:00A Prayer<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
A Prayer
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(Paris 1924)<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Again!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
<i>Come, give, yield all your strength to me!</i>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
From far a low word breathes on the breaking brain
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Its cruel calm, submission's misery,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Gentling her awe as to a soul predestined.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Cease, silent love! My doom!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Blind me with your dark nearness, O have mercy, beloved enemy of my will!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
I dare not withstand the cold touch that I dread.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Draw from me still
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
My slow life! Bend deeper on me, threatening head,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Proud by my downfall, remembering, pitying
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Him who is, him who was!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Again!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Together, folded by the night, they lay on earth. I hear
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
From far her low word breathe on my breaking brain.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
<i>Come!</i> I yield. Bend deeper upon me! I am here.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Subduer, do not leave me! Only joy, only anguish,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Take me, save me, soothe me, O spare me!
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-9569268148395211472016-02-25T13:49:00.000-08:002016-05-06T09:27:12.236-07:00Ecce Puer<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwznHXVdAV0A2mccVmbSZF9Kueg3ttKcohbDxNuLdahtSTSmJz3jEm79YGUfyJam0o0vwQSp9s83WOTgxb9OYHdbMNPnIPDnKa3x5ePXTL_lC9QLlWvv8YHObwkmySI-wwjK6B7Ld6a17D/s1600/ecce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwznHXVdAV0A2mccVmbSZF9Kueg3ttKcohbDxNuLdahtSTSmJz3jEm79YGUfyJam0o0vwQSp9s83WOTgxb9OYHdbMNPnIPDnKa3x5ePXTL_lC9QLlWvv8YHObwkmySI-wwjK6B7Ld6a17D/s640/ecce.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Ecce Puer<br />
<a href="http://annotatedpoems.blogspot.com/2016/03/tilly.html" style="color: white; line-height: 14px; margin: 0px;">[]</a><br />
Of the dark past<br />
A boy is born.<br />
With joy and grief<br />
My heart is torn.<br />
<br />
Calm in his cradle<br />
The living lies.<br />
May love and mercy<br />
Unclose his eyes!<br />
<br />
New life is breathed<br />
Upon the glass:<br />
A world that was not<br />
Comes to pass.<br />
<br />
A child is sleeping,<br />
An old man gone.<br />
O, father forsaken,<br />
Forgive your son!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-67843139278391215622016-02-15T13:53:00.000-08:002016-04-30T13:53:49.794-07:00The Holy Office<iframe frameborder="0" height="100" scrolling="yes" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglsLJeXRQZoH7TZi03jZpoT1Ue74v7qq4a50spxvnn0qpihJtuycEiEirxSOG1rCuPTY7Nc6U3OlV7dQxtW-buzq-Ax6uevg2rTD_xu7UyMUR3eQZznDekURlJW4Z-uRcazCMe-cNnxxs/s1600/holyoffice.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" width="100%"></iframe>
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;">
</span><br />
<h3>
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;">
The Holy Office
</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;">
</span>
</h3>
<br />
[the unapologetic braggadocio and contempt for all his competition establish this as uniquely Edwardian <b>battle-rap</b>. Joyce's newfound success with Nora may have given him confidence]<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Myself unto myself will give
<br />
This name Katharsis-Purgative.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Aristotle describes catharsis as the purging of the emotions of pity and fear that are aroused in the viewer of a tragedy
<br />
<br />
'cathartic' and 'purgative' were slightly less genteel (?) terms for laxatives.
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
I, who dishevelled ways forsook
<br />
To hold the poets' grammar-book,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
'dishevelled' usually refers to hair
<br />
<br />
so when did he forsake these ways?<br />
for which poets?
<br />
(instead of joining the 'dishevelled' Dublin literary community, he announces himself as their... higher conscience?)
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Bringing to tavern and to brothel
<br />
The mind of witty Aristotle,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
nobody has ever found Aristotle <a href="http://www.famousquotesfunnyquotes.com/authors/aristotle/">funny</a>
<br />
<br />
The Jesuits, via Aquinas, continued to hold him in the highest intellectual esteem, and Joyce felt this gave him an edge over anyone without this training.<br />
Carrying this viewpoint into tavern and brothel was a daring and original plan.
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Lest bards in the attempt should err
<br />
Must here be my interpreter:
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<b>I</b>... Must here be my <i>own</i> interpreter
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Wherefore receive now from my lip
<br />
Peripatetic scholarship.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
learned in the world, not in the library
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
To enter heaven, travel hell,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Blake: "The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom."
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Be piteous or terrible
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
ie, arouse Aristotle's tragic emotions of pity and fear
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
One positively needs the ease,
<br />
Of plenary indulgences.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(maybe: Catholics believe that relief from punishment for their sins can be won by obedience, with 'plenary' implying complete relief rather than 'partial'. Joyce takes this pseudo-seriously as permitting every sinful experiment???)
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
For every true-born mysticist
<br />
A Dante is, unprejudiced,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(this is how they fancy themselves, anyway?)
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Who safe at ingle-nook, by proxy,
<br />
Hazards extremes of heterodoxy
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
i see Yeats and AE dreaming of revolution without daring to actually disturb the universe
<br />
<br />
(probably 'ingle-nook' is a jab at someone's particular use of that cheap imagery)
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Like him who finds a joy at table
<br />
Pondering the uncomfortable.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Joyce wouldn't have known that Yeats had been using hashish and mescaline (but probably would have condemned it as a safe substitute for real risk)
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Ruling one's life by common sense
<br />
How can one fail to be intense?
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
this paradox seems obviously unconvincing-- common sense is the opposite (cf Blake again)
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
But I must not accounted be
<br />
One of that mumming company —
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
'mummers' implies actors, here especially the Irish Literary Theatre movement (also, faking their radicalism)
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
With him who hies him to appease
<br />
His giddy dames' frivolities
<br />
While they console him when he whinges
<br />
With gold-embroidered Celtic fringes —
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Yeats was fairly asexual (he lost his virginity at 30) but enviably charming, with loyal supporters like Lady Gregory, Annie Horniman, Florence Farr, and the weird sisters of Dun Emer (who in fact specialised in embroidered Celtic fringes): Elizabeth Corbet Yeats, <a href="http://polarbearstale.blogspot.com/2012/05/susan-mary-lily-yeats-1866-1948.html">Lily Yeats</a> and Evelyn Gleeson.
<br />
Maud Gonne was a raving terrorist by comparison
<br />
<br />
'hies' is obsolete for 'hurries'
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Or him who sober all the day<br />
Mixes a naggin in his play —
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Millington_Synge">Synge </a>uses the word 'naggin' in works published later, in 1905 and 1912
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Or him who[se] conduct "seems to own"
<br />
His preference for a man of "tone"
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Gogarty had written a poem a few months earlier, probably about his sister: "When the sun shines on Mary's hair / The splendour <i>seems to own</i> / That solid rays of sunlight there / Are blended with the brown." JAJ must have judged it weak.
<br />
<br />
OG's friend-since-1899 Arthur Griffith was a follower of Wolfe <i>Tone.</i> OG would help AG found Sinn Fein in 1905.<br />
<br />
but assuming this couplet does means Gogarty, it couldn't have been worse-timed, for he'd just agreed to host Joyce at the Tower for a year, but withdrew the offer when he read these insults
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Or him who plays the rugged patch
<br />
To millionaires in Hazelhatch
<br />
But weeping after holy fast
<br />
Confesses all his pagan past —
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Padraic Colum the year before had been promised a stipend to write by millionaire Thomas Kelly of Celbridge/<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hazelhatch">Hazelhatch</a>, who'd rejected Joyce's overambitious plan to start a daily newspaper called the Goblin
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Or him who will his hat unfix
<br />
Neither to malt nor crucifix
<br />
But show to all that poor-dressed be
<br />
His high Castilian courtesy —
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Eglinton/Magee, teetotaler [<a href="http://web.archive.org/web/20120516004244/http://www.robotwisdom.com/jaj/ulysses/eglinton.html">more</a>]<br />
<br />
Joyce's limerick: <br />
There once was a Celtic librarian<br />
Whose essays were voted Spencerian<br />
His name is Magee<br />
But it seems that to me<br />
He's a flavour that's more Presbyterian<br />
<br />
Stannie: "Magee is a dwarfish, brown-clad fellow, with red-brown eyes like a ferret, who walks with his hands in his jacket pockets and as stiffly as if his knees were roped with sugauns. He is sub-librarian in Kildare Street, and I think his mission in Ireland is to prove to his Protestant grandaunts that unbelievers can be very moral and admire the Bible. He is interested in great thoughts and philosophy, whenever he can understand it." <br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Or him who loves his Master dear —
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
George Roberts, w/AE
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Or him who drinks his pint in fear —
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Starkey
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Or him who once when snug abed
<br />
Saw Jesus Christ without his head
<br />
And tried so hard to win for us
<br />
The long-lost works of Eschylus.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
AE (anticipated Prince by adopting the ligature Æ)<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
But all these men of whom I speak
<br />
Make me the sewer of their clique.
<br />
That they may dream their dreamy dreams
<br />
I carry off their filthy streams
<br />
For I can do those things for them
<br />
Through which I lost my diadem,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
(skeptics would have asked how he could lose a badge of royalty if he'd never won one)
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Those things for which Grandmother Church
<br />
Left me severely in the lurch.
<br />
Thus I relieve their timid arses,
<br />
Perform my office of Katharsis.
<br />
My scarlet leaves them white as wool
<br />
Through me they purge a bellyful.
<br />
To sister mummers one and all
<br />
I act as vicar-general
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And for each maiden, shy and nervous,
<br />
I do a similar kind service.
<br />
For I detect without surprise
<br />
That shadowy beauty in her eyes,
<br />
The "dare not" of sweet maidenhood
<br />
That answers my corruptive "would",
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Whenever publicly we meet
<br />
She never seems to think of it;
<br />
At night when close in bed she lies
<br />
And feels my hand between her thighs
<br />
My little love in light attire
<br />
Knows the soft flame that is desire.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
Joyce was paid, later in August, for a poem that begins "My love is in a light attire / Among the apple trees". He'd been dating Nora for two months, so this presumably refers to her, alone in bed, remembering his touch and probably masturbating. We have to assume he was throwing all caution to the wind and challenging even those closest to him-- Nora and Gogarty-- to accept his art even when it addressed them personally.
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
But Mammon places under ban
<br />
The uses of Leviathan
<br />
And that high spirit ever wars
<br />
On Mammon's countless servitors
<br />
Nor can they ever be exempt
<br />
From his taxation of contempt.
<br />
So distantly I turn to view
<br />
The shamblings of that motley crew,
<br />
Those souls that hate the strength that mine has
<br />
Steeled in the school of old Aquinas.
<br />
Where they have crouched and crawled and prayed
<br />
I stand the self-doomed, unafraid,
<br />
Unfellowed, friendless and alone,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
JAJ had used the phrase "I am going alone and friendless" in his 1902 letter to Lady Gregory asking for help
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Indifferent as the herring-bone,
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
a very odd metaphor. Joyce had not yet written : "the artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails". Maybe the herringbone that chokes someone to death is indifferent to its victim?
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Firm as the mountain-ridges where
<br />
I flash my antlers on the air.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
'firm' seems a little weak-- wasn't there any other one-syllable synonym? tough? stout? fixed? strong? hale? <br />
<br />
already in January he had written "...behind the rapidly indurating shield the sensitive answered. Let the pack of enmities come tumbling and sniffing to the highlands after their game — there was his ground: and he flung them disdain from flashing antlers." [<a href="http://web.archive.org/web/20130409060850/http://www.robotwisdom.com/jaj/portrait/poa04.html">PoA04</a>]
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Let them continue as is meet
<br />
To adequate the balance-sheet.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/adequate#Verb">uncommonly a verb</a>
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
Though they may labour to the grave
<br />
My spirit shall they never have
<br />
Nor make my soul with theirs at one
<br />
Till the Mahamanvantara be done:
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
in Theosophy, 311 trillion years, or about 20,000 times the age of the universe [<a href="http://gnosticteachings.org/glossary/m/2586-mahamanvantara.html">cite</a>]
<br />
Joyce's targets had mostly dabbled with Theosophy, but the reference seems trivial now (and there's an extra syllable!?)<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>
And though they spurn me from their door
<br />
My soul shall spurn them evermore.
</b></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6997432583983834284.post-80456902047668038342016-02-05T13:50:00.000-08:002016-05-06T13:39:02.653-07:00Gas from a Burner<br />
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<br />
<br />
Ladies and gents, you are here assembled<br />
To hear why earth and heaven trembled<br />
Because of the black and sinister arts<br />
Of an Irish writer in foreign parts.<br />
He sent me a book ten years ago<br />
I read it a hundred times or so,<br />
Backwards and forwards, down and up,<br />
Through both the ends of a telescope.<br />
I printed it all to the very last word<br />
But by the mercy of the Lord<br />
The darkness of my mind was rent<br />
And I saw the writer's foul intent.<br />
But I owe a duty to Ireland:<br />
I held her honour in my hand,<br />
This lovely land that always sent<br />
Her writers and artists to banishment<br />
And in a spirit of Irish fun<br />
Betrayed her own leaders, one by one.<br />
'Twas Irish humour, wet and dry,<br />
Flung quicklime into Parnell's eye;<br />
'Tis Irish brains that save from doom<br />
The leaky barge of the Bishop of Rome<br />
For everyone knows the Pope can't belch<br />
Without the consent of Billy Walsh.<br />
O Ireland my first and only love<br />
Where Christ and Caesar are hand and glove!<br />
O lovely land where the shamrock grows!<br />
(Allow me, ladies, to blow my nose)<br />
To show you for strictures I don't care a button<br />
I printed the poems of Mountainy Mutton<br />
And a play he wrote (you've read it, I'm sure)<br />
Where they talk of "bastard" "bugger" and "whore"<br />
And a play on the Word and Holy Paul<br />
And some woman's legs that I can't recall<br />
Written by Moore, a genuine gent<br />
That lives on his property's ten per cent:<br />
I printed mystical books in dozens:<br />
I printed the table book of Cousins<br />
Though (asking your pardon) as for the verse<br />
'Twould give you a heartburn on your arse:<br />
I printed folklore from North and South<br />
By Gregory of the Golden Mouth:<br />
I printed poets, sad, silly and solemn:<br />
I printed Patrick What-do-you-Colm:<br />
I printed the great John Milicent Synge<br />
Who soars above on an angel's wing<br />
In the playboy shift that he pinched as swag<br />
From Maunsel's manager's travelling-bag.<br />
But I draw the line at that bloody fellow,<br />
That was over here dressed in Austrian yellow,<br />
Spouting Italian by the hour<br />
To O' Leary Curtis and John Wyse Power<br />
And writing of Dublin, dirty and dear,<br />
In a manner no blackamoor printer could bear.<br />
Shite and onions! Do you think I'll print<br />
The name of the Wellington Monument,<br />
Sydney Parade and Sandymount tram,<br />
Downes's cakeshop and Williams's jam?<br />
I'm damned if I do — I'm damned to blazes!<br />
Talk about <i>Irish Names of Places!</i><br />
It's a wonder to me, upon my soul,<br />
He forgot to mention Curly's Hole.<br />
No, ladies, my press shall have no share in<br />
So gross a libel on Stepmother Erin.<br />
I pity the poor — that's why I took<br />
A red-headed Scotchman to keep my book.<br />
Poor sister Scotland! Her doom is fell;<br />
She cannot find any more Stuarts to sell.<br />
My conscience is fine as Chinese silk:<br />
My heart is as soft as buttermilk.<br />
Colm can tell you I made a rebate<br />
Of one hundred pounds on the estimate<br />
I gave him for his Irish Review.<br />
I love my country — by herrings I do!<br />
I wish you could see what tears I weep<br />
When I think of the emigrant train and ship.<br />
That's why I publish far and wide<br />
My quite illegible railway guide,<br />
In the porch of my printing institute<br />
The poor and deserving prostitute<br />
Plays every night at catch-as-catch-can<br />
With her tight-breeched British artilleryman<br />
And the foreigner learns the gift of the gab<br />
From the drunken draggletail Dublin drab.<br />
Who was it said: Resist not evil?<br />
I'll burn that book, so help me devil.<br />
I'll sing a psalm as I watch it burn<br />
And the ashes I'll keep in a one-handled urn.<br />
I'll penance do with farts and groans<br />
Kneeling upon my marrowbones.<br />
This very next lent I will unbare<br />
My penitent buttocks to the air<br />
And sobbing beside my printing press<br />
My awful sin I will confess.<br />
My Irish foreman from Bannockburn<br />
Shall dip his right hand in the urn<br />
And sign crisscross with reverent thumb<br />
<i>Memento homo</i> upon my bum.<br />
<br />
<i>Flushing, September 1912.</i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />Tim Finneganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05837865678139104469noreply@blogger.com0