Translation of an obscure poem by someone who killed himself in the 1920s

[Kyriakos]

My own translation of some old poem:

"Ballad to the obscure poets of the centuries"

Hated by humans and gods,
the Verlaines wither away like embittered fallen lords,
but they keep as wealth the rich and silvery rhyme.
The Hugos self-intoxicate with the terrifying vengeance of the Olympians,
through their "Punishment" poems.
But I will compose a sorrowful ballad
to the poets who are obscure.

If it can be said the Poes lived in misery
and the Baudelaires were living-dead,
Immortality has been granted to them
Yet no one speaks of the lyricists who write lyrics in vain,
and are long covered by utter darkness.
But I compose, as a holy offering,
this ballad to the poets who are obscure.

Burdened by the world's contempt
they move about, rigid and pale,
loyal to their tragic delusion
that fame awaits them just a bit further away,
some kind of profoundly light-hearted virgin.
Yet I, knowing that everyone has forgotten of them,
here will mournfully sing the dreadful ballad
to the poets who are obscure.

And I wish that in future times it will be asked:
"Which obscure poet wrote such a puny ballad
of the poets who are obscure?"
--

One of the poems of an important greek poet of the 1920s, Constantinos Karyotakis, who committed suicide.

Original follows in the spoiler

Spoiler :

Μπαλάντα στους Άδοξους Ποιητές των Αιώνων

Από θεούς και ανθρώπους μισημένοι,
σαν άρχοντες που εξέπεσαν πικροί,
μαραίνονται οι Βερλαίν. τους απομένει
πλούτος ή ρίμα πλούσια κι αργυρή.
Οι Ουγκό με «Τιμωρίες» την τρομερή
των Ολυμπίων εκδίκηση μεθούνε.
Μα εγώ θα γράψω μια λυπητερή
μπαλάντα στους ποιητές άδοξοι που ’ναι.

Αν έζησαν οι Πόε δυστυχισμένοι
και αν οι Μποντλαίρ εζήσανε νεκροί,
η Αθανασία τους είναι χαρισμένη.
Κανένας όμως δεν ανιστορεί
Και το έρεβος εσκέπασε βαρύ
τους στιχουργούς που ανάξια στιχουργούνε.
Μα εγώ σαν προσφορά κάνω ιερή
μπαλάντα στους ποιητές άδοξοι που’ ναι.

Του κόσμου η καταφρόνια τους βαραίνει
κι αυτοί περνούνε αλύγιστοι και ωχροί,
στην τραγικήν απάτη τους δομένοι
πως κάπου πέρα η δόξα καρτερεί,
παρθένα βαθυστόχαστα ιλαρή.
Μα ξέροντας πως όλοι τους ξεχνούνε,
νοσταλγικά εγώ κλαίω τη θλιβερή
μπαλάντα στους ποιητές άδοξοι που’ ναι.

Και κάποτε οι μελλούμενοι καιροί:
«Ποιος άδοξος ποιητής» θέλω να πούνε
«την έγραψε μιαν έτσι πενιχρή
μπαλάντα στους ποιητές άδοξοι που ’ναι;»

-Did you like the poem?

 

[Mouthwash]

So... why do people like poetry, again?

 

[Kyriakos]

So... why do people like poetry, again?

Come on, some poems are very nice Although i only like those which rhyme (the original does).

 

[Zelig]

So... why do people like poetry, again?

Isn't there any you like?

 

[Agent327]

A poem about obscure poets - even when written by an obscure poet - isn't really an obscure poem, is it.

 

[Kyriakos]

A poem about obscure poets - even when written by an obscure poet - isn't really an obscure poem, is it.

It might have ended being utterly obscure, i suppose (still is in a larger context, cause unlike Cavafy, Karyotakis is virtually unknown outside of this country ).

 

[civman110]

-Did you like the poem?

Kind of... I'd probably appreciate it more if I could read it in Greek as it was originally written. It's a bit depressing, not that, that's always a bad thing, but I tend to like poetry that's not as straightforward as to what it's about. I like the more complex layered stuff like William Blake. This is probably my favorite poem, but you kind of have to read his poem "The Lamb" too to fully get it. His poems are written in collections/volumes for that reason.

Spoiler The Tyger by William Blake :

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

 

[Zelig]

Kind of... I'd probably appreciate it more if I could read it in Greek as it was originally written. It's a bit depressing, not that, that's always a bad thing, but I tend to like poetry that's not as straightforward as to what it's about. I like the more complex layered stuff like William Blake. This is probably my favorite poem, but you kind of have to read his poem "The Lamb" too to fully get it. His poems are written in collections/volumes for that reason.

Spoiler The Tyger by William Blake :

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Can you read Greek?

 

[civman110]

Can you read Greek?

Nope. That's the problem. I can only read English and Gaelic.

 

[Kyriakos]

Kind of... I'd probably appreciate it more if I could read it in Greek as it was originally written. It's a bit depressing, not that, that's always a bad thing, but I tend to like poetry that's not as straightforward as to what it's about. I like the more complex layered stuff like William Blake. This is probably my favorite poem, but you kind of have to read his poem "The Lamb" too to fully get it. His poems are written in collections/volumes for that reason.

Spoiler The Tyger by William Blake :

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Very nice. I think it is the only poem of his i know, other than one with the excellent lines: "some of born to sweet delight- some are born to endless night"

Btw, what does writing Tiger with "y" signify?

 

[civman110]

Very nice. I think it is the only poem of his i know, other than one with the excellent lines: "some of born to sweet delight- some are born to endless night"

Yeah, that line is very William Blake for sure.

I also like this one of his:

Spoiler The Garden Of Love :

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And 'Thou shalt not,' writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

Btw, what does writing Tiger with "y" signify?

It's Middle English.

 

[sophie]

So... why do people like poetry, again?

I dunno, why do you like hip hop?

 

[Mouthwash]

I dunno, why do you like hip hop?

Because it sounds good, and because the rhyme schemes are a fun and interesting use of the English language.

 

[sophie]

voilà: poetry

 

[Mouthwash]

voilà: poetry

I'm not yet clear on what poetry fans would define as "fun" or "interesting."

Yes, rap does include a form of poetry (it's in the name). I just think that the style of poetry presented in the OP doesn't seem to have any point to it. Why not write in prose?

 

[Zelig]

Because it sounds good, and because the rhyme schemes are a fun and interesting use of the English language.

Do you like music without words?

 

[Mouthwash]

Do you like music without words?

Listening to it as I type.

 

[sophie]

The meter, for one thing. The craft of setting out constraints (e.g. meter and rhyme scheme) and still come out with a coherent product. Seeing it done bombastically really helps to understand the potential for subtlety. For example Ovid's Metamorphoses, in which he composes thousands upon thousands of lines - all of which adhere strictly to a dactylic hexameter (six feet per line, each foot composed of either a long followed by two short syllables, or two long syllables; the last foot is always two long syllables) - and he also finds time to make it readable, coherent, and literary. Poetry is the ultimate exercise in conciseness.

Illa fretus agit ventos et turbida tranat
nubila. Iamque volans apicem et latera ardua cernit
Atlantis duri caelum qui vertice fulcit,
Atlantis, cinctum adsidue cui nubibus atris
piniferum caput et vento pulsatur et impri,
nix umeros infusa tegit, tum flumina mento
praecipitant senis, et glacie riget horrida barba.
Hic primum paribus nitens Cyllenius alis
constitit: hinc toto praeceps se corpore ad undas
misit avi similis, quae circum litora, circum
piscosos scopulos humilis volat aequora iuxta.
Haud aliter terras inter caelumque volabat
litus harenosum ad Libyae, ventosque secabat
materno veniens ab avo Cyllenia proles.

Relying on it, he drove the winds, and flew through
the stormy clouds. Now in his flight he saw the steep flanks
and the summit of strong Atlas, who holds the heavens
on his head, Atlas, whose pine covered crown is always wreathed
in drak clouds and lashed by the wind and rain:
fallen snow clothes his shoulders: while rivers fall
from his ancient chin, and his rough beard bristles with ice.
There Cyllenian Mercury first halted, balanced on level wings:
from there, he threw his whole body headlong
towards the waves, like a bird that flies low close
to the sea, round the coasts and the rocks rich in fish.
So the Cyllenian-born flew between heaven and earth
to Libya's sandy shore, cutting the winds, coming
from Atlas, his mother Maia's father.

If you take a look at the rules for how to scan in Latin you can scan any passage of the Aeneid and see perfect dactylic hexameter. I dare you to try something like that. Tell a full story (in English) in Dactylic Hexameter (or something more amenable to the natural flow of the English language like Iambic Pentameter). It's not easy.

And that's of course leaving aside all the wonderful literary qualities of the passage, the beautiful imagery, the extended metaphor, the enjambment, the parallelism, etc.

Or you could go in the opposite direction. Take a look at bars of the great rappers (Nas, Rakim, Q-Tip, Tupac, etc.). If you scan them formally, you'll often find some quite complicated meters. Because really prosody (how rhythms and accent are employed and arranged in poetry) is the essence of what makes a flow good or bad.

 

[Agent327]

Flow - apart from meter and metaphor) is the essence of poetry. You can have correct meter and nice metaphors, if it doesn't flow, it's still not very good poetry. (Which makes me wonder what 'bad flow' would be? Isn't that just saying that the poem doesn't run very well, ergo doesn't flow?)

A good example of flow is from one of today's minor poets. He's not in it to get rich or die trying, he is in it to express his flow:

And boy, does he have Flow.

It might have ended being utterly obscure, i suppose (still is in a larger context, cause unlike Cavafy, Karyotakis is virtually unknown outside of this country ).

I'm sure. But the poem isn't obscure at all.

 

[Kyriakos]

I'm not yet clear on what poetry fans would define as "fun" or "interesting."

Yes, rap does include a form of poetry (it's in the name). I just think that the style of poetry presented in the OP doesn't seem to have any point to it. Why not write in prose?

The original has rhyme. It would be not only a tall order, but all-around a bad idea for me to try to force a rhymed translation. Afaik rhymed translations are rare even in printed works nowdays. Non-rhymed poetry is not my thing either.

@Agent327: there are glorious poems, so why can't there be obscure ones as well?