Mary Kinzie’s Translation Notes on Rilke’s “Herbsttag”: Published by the Poetry Foundation

Poetry magazine : Published by the Poetry Foundation.

Her choice to translate “es ist Zeit. / Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren” to “it is time / to let your shadow lengthen on the sundials” demonstrates a digested control over her understanding of the poem, compared to Stephen Mitchell’s (masterful) translation of the same line to “it is time / Now overlap the sundials with your shadows”

I gather that she had a decided focus on the sonnet form and the metrical space of the poem that determined much of her choices and inventions in this refreshing translation.

Perhaps it’s time to change the blog title?

See her translation as published by The Poetry Foundation

Morrissey the Poet: Right?

“Spending warm summer days indoors, writing frightening verse to a bucktoothed girl in Luxembourg”

Songwriter vs poet.

As stated in the Mary: A Literary Quarterly:

“Dr. Gavin Hopps, a lecturer at St Andrews University, makes the case in his book,  Morrissey: The Pageant of His Bleeding Heart,  that Morrissey is a wordsmith on par with the likes of  Philip Larkin, Lord Bryon, Mary Shelly, and George Eliot.

Hopps calls Morrissey ” the greatest lyricist in the history of British popular music.””

Couldn’t have said it better myself Hopps, but I might add that I can’t count the number of instances when I didn’t have material ready for a workshop class and nearly printed out the lyrics for “I know it’s over” to turn in as my poem.

http://maryliterary.com/?p=669

“Picture” is the new “World”

Exposed before experience?

The Silver Leaf Journal

Pictures are everywhere these days. No one sees anything without first looking at it through a screen.

I’ll bet that if you look out on the street at this very moment, more than half of the people (probably closer to 90%) walking by are looking at their little screens.

That is their world. It is their perception of the world.

Is it that through globalization humanity’s concept of our planet and its vastness, its billions of people all thrusting and grabbing and moving, is just too much for our little brains to absorb? That we must, therefore, contain it, shrink it, peer at it through a manageably-sized window?

Or is it simply screen addiction?

When I was a child, Polaroid cameras were all the rage and people snapped pictures of everything, marvelling at the instantaneousness of it all. But they were also expensive and this obsession didn’t last long.

For…

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