Saturday, February 22, 2020

Pattern and Repetition





Ancient footsteps
Take me to a time
When leaving was discovery
And Mariana was just a poem

Cities were of concrete
Of steal and unshaven men
I still hear the footsteps
Lovingly in these streets I left
Dark, with the sound of every
Setting name

It was a time
To which we belonged
When self pity was a short poem
Marianas recited gently
In distant granges

... Time has since forgotten
(It has it hushed, yet has it delivered)
The call we often surrendered
To gentle evening memories
Of Mariana waiting 

But he never cometh
For leaving was discovery
Of what we already
Knew

January 22, 2020
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2020




Background: I re-read Tennyson’s “Mariana” published in 1830. I have read it, as I do with most poetry, at various stages of my life to see if it has acquired a new meaning, or if it has a new message since my last reading. Tennyson’s poem is based on Shakespeare’s “Mariana” in Measure for Measure where she hopelessly waits  for Angelo, her lover.

As for the reference for self-pity, it is from a poem by D.H. Lawrence, by the same name. It is a short poem (only four lines) but it has often returned to my recall as a thought when I read poetry. It is perhaps its short for line breath that breezes through lines by other poets.

Finally, the photo is of a sunset I watched a couple days ago from my window. I thought it fit well with the mood of the poems I was reading.

Monday, February 10, 2020

Femme Sans Masque




On recommence
Peut être sans l’oubli
Des vagues intérieures
Qui nous avaient
Délaissé
Le cercle
Devient point
Et son centre
Laisse tomber
Sans pouvoir
Se ramasser

On commence
Alors
Appelant le cercle
Un zéro tardif
On commence
Pourtant
À la sauvette
Car le moment
Nous tourne en
Rond
En trouble fête
En empêcheur
Du murmure qui nous
Gêne
À haute voix
Mais repose
Ses pleurs
Pour obsèques
Sans départ
Car

On recommence
Jadis
On avait
Souvent
Commencé

Le 10 Janvier 2020
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2020

L’inspiration pour ces mots m’est venue à travers une peinture « Empêcheur de Tourner en Rond » de l’artiste Canadien Claude Tousignant, 1964

Le titre est un jeu de mots sur le titre d’une peinture « Femme au Masque» par Lorenzo Lippi, 1640

Monday, February 3, 2020

Rebel Poets of Wine and Love from Iberia, Persia and Iraq

I wrote about Abu Nawas within the context of his philosophy of cure from alcoholism and a parallel to modern medical applications to behaviour prevention (https://vahezen.blogspot.com/2020/01/and-cure-me-with-that-which-is-my.html). Since Abu Nawas was born in Persia (today’s Iran) to a Persian mother but lived in Iraq as an Arab, a reader of my blog suggested that Abu Nawas’ love for wine may have roots in his Persian origin which until the 650s A.D was a culture of wine and music, rather than only a revolt against the rules of Islam Abu Nawas adopted in his lifestyle and poems.

Interesting comment, especially since I was not well versed in the “love and wine" poetry during the 10th century.

So, I read poetry by and analysis of Judeo-Spanish poets who were influenced by Arab poets such as Abu Nawas .  These Jewish poets in Al-Andalus discovered the Arabic meter and the qasida (ode) form often used by Arab poets before 1000 A.D. My exploration took me to choose three love and wine poets – one Jewish from Spain (Moses ibn Ezra, 1055 Granada, Spain), and two Muslim poets one from Iraq (Abu Nawas 756, Ahvaz, Persia) and one from Persia (Hafez 1320 Shiraz, Persia).

In chronological order of these poets’  birth, Abu Nawas paved the way to a poetry genre and a philosophy of existence.  Born in Persia, he spent his life in Iraq celebrating love as intoxicating and liberating as wine. He was the rebel against the rules of Islam.

Among his most known quotes translated in the West is from Diwan 164:

I bought abandon dear and sold all piety for pleasure. My own free spirit I have followed, and never will I give up lust

And perhaps the summary of his behaviour vis à vis the rules of Islam is:

My religion is my affair and other people’s religion is theirs

… Al-Andalus in Hispania (Spain) became the new center of Jewish thought and philosophy after Babylon (Iraq). Moses ibn Ezra was a Jewish Rabbi, a Spanish philosopher and a poet born in Granada and lived in Castile after the Jewish community of Granada was destroyed by Almoravids, a Berber Muslim dynasty originated in Morocco. Ibn Ezra’s philosophical work is most remembered for his treatise of the concept of a metaphor, while his poems are about love and wine (yayin) reminiscent of Abu Nawas’ work.

Ibn Azra’s most popular statement about wine has been translated as:

Bitter is wine, but it sweetens all bitterness 

… Hafez, the equally celebrated Persian poet as Rumi, was born in Shiraz.  While Persia became Muslim in 651 A.D after the Arab conquest of Persia/Iran, for centuries before that date Persia followed the Zoroastrian religion/doctrine. It was somewhere around 1500BC that Zaratustra introduced the tenet of worshiping only Ahura Mazda or Lord of Wisdom, perhaps introducing the first context for a monotheistic faith. The Zoroatrian religion was also in support of the arts and it is believed that wine was made in Persia, in Shiraz near Persepolis 7000 years ago.

Hafez, while a Sufi Muslim, seems to embody many of the historical Persian and Zoroastrian attitudes to love, wine, and spirituality. His rebellious attitude has influenced Goethe, Emerson, Nietzsche and even Queen Victoria! In fact, one finds Sherlock Holmes quoting Hafez through Arthur Conan Doyle’s writing.

Today, February 3, 2020, as I write these lines, Harper’s Magazine published an article on Hafez titled “The River of Wine” (https://harpers.org/blog/2010/09/hafiz-the-river-of-wine/) where a 2001 translation by Thomas R. Crowe of Ghazal No. 377 is reprinted and includes:

Bring me a cup of wine that is dark red and smells like musk.
Don’t bring me that expensive brand that tastes like money
and smells like lust

And

If I die, don’t let them bury me in a dusty grave;
Take my corpse to the Winehouse and throw me into a cask of wine!

… As in all research, it is unavoidable that one would discover ideas or events that the initial search was not intended to discover. Indeed, as I continued to read and establish cross links between historical periods, geography and poetry, I discovered another Jewish poet from Castile in the 1500s. Shem Tov (or Santob), who wrote in Castilian rather than in Hebrew, had a few lines translated in English that caught my attention. These are not about wine or love, but somehow they evoked a philosophy that has affected my existence in the past 50 years.

Indeed the lines are:

I find in this world two kinds of men and no more, and I can never find the third:
A seeker who seeks and never finds, and another who is never content with whatever he finds

(Translation by Translations by T.A. Perry, from The Moral Proverbs of Santob de Carrion: Jewish Wisdom in Christian Spain, Princeton Univ Pr November 1987, Ewing, New Jersey, U.S.A)

These lines reminded me of a poster I had on the wall of my dormitory room where three kittens, with various facial expressions were looking out of a wicker basket. The legend read:

There are three types of people – those who make things happen; those who watch things happen; and those who wonder why things happen

Over the past 50 years I have often thought about this simple paradigm, and asked myself which kitten I was in various situations.

And today, after thinking about three love and wine poets, a fourth Iberian Jewish poet made me realise that, contrary to Shem Tov, I have found the third type of men and tried to stay away from them!

February 3, 2020
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2020