Klik op een omslag om naar Google Boeken te gaan.
Bezig met laden... Song of Myselfdoor Walt Whitman
Geen Bezig met laden...
Meld je aan bij LibraryThing om erachter te komen of je dit boek goed zult vinden. Op dit moment geen Discussie gesprekken over dit boek. Slow work going through this for a slow reader anyway unaccustomed to poetry, as so many individual word choices and phrases demand consideration and thinking. Democratic, dynamic, egalitarian, self-confident, sensual, spiritual, provocative even today. I celebrate myself, and sing myself,Self-assurance and self-belief ring out from the opening lines. Also a hint of the interconnectedness that will be developed plenty further. I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,Drop the mask worn on the stage of social interaction. And a note of physical sensuality. There was never any more inception than there is now,Don't wait on the future. Live life in this moment. Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,We always work to present our best most perfect selves to others. But we're perfect and beautiful anyways, faults warts and all. Don't hide or repress any part of yourself. And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,An answer to a previously posed question, "What is the grass?" Out of many it is one, e pluribus unum, these lines arguing that all are equal. I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots,All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well. The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me,It's not just all Whitman lolling around in fields and nature. He loves the society of men and women close to the earth as well. In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing, (The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place,'Everything in its right place' I play not marches for accepted victors only, I play marches for conquer'd and slain persons.The outcome is not important, it is the participation in the battle, in life. Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!Liquid trees??? Fantastic. Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch'd from,Whitman believes in God as revealed through nature, not through churches or theologies shaped by man, a recurring theme. 'arm-pits aroma finer than prayer'... provocative way for the poet to put it! Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you!...Manly wheat and the wind as genitalia rubbing against you. Oh my. Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs,Very nice description of a sunrise. I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars, Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah,Old conceptions of the divine have outlived their usefulness to a growing/evolving humanity, which now needs something new. Here and there with dimes on the eyes walking,The greedy rich, busy with commerce, exploiting their workers, miss out on the real stuff of life. Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers,Addressing the 'unbelievers', who thrash about in the sea of doubt and unbelief a few lines earlier. Don't worry about death, what comes afterward comes for all alike, and it will be sufficient. Every condition promulges not only itself, it promulges what grows after and out of itself,Reminds me of Rilke. This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven,Our souls will penetrate unimaginably far after death. I do not say these things for a dollar or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat[47]A joke? Ha! Why should I wish to see God better than this day? I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/2d/Whitman-leavesofgrass.gif If high school students were presented with this image of Whitman instead of one of him as an old man with a long white beard, he would surely strike more interest. J’étais vraiment curieuse de découvrir ce poète américain, un des rares dont le nom a traversé l’atlantique me semble-t-il. Intimidée par l’ampleur de son recueil, je me suis décidée pour ce long poème, emblématique de son œuvre. Et je crois que je m’arrêterai là. D’accord, le « je » de ce poème doit être vu comme plus général que la seule personne de Whitman, d’accord, il y a du transcendantalisme dans tout ça. Mais j’ai du mal à y voir autre chose qu’une ode à lui-même, une façon assez désagréable de se placer au-dessus de la mêlée : moi j’ai tout vécu (ben oui, puisque je communie avec tous mes frères, pas besoin de souffrir moi-même, ils souffrent pour moi et je m’imagine que je suis à leur place pour dire que moi aussi je souffre, c’est un peu facile, non ?). Bon, je m’arrête là puisque manifestement, je ne suis pas de ceux qui réussissent à entrer dans l’œuvre de Whitman. J’éprouve pour lui la même sensation désagréable que lorsque j’ai lu [Walden] (que je n’ai pas réussi à finir, d’ailleurs) de [[Thoreau]], tiens lui aussi un transcendantaliste. Je dois avoir une dent contre les idées et le style des écrivains qui gravitent autour de ce mouvement. Je le saurai pour la prochaine fois. What I love about poetry is that there is a lot of room for interpretation. And in those beautiful 80 pages, Whitman did deliver what he promised before getting into the poem: "You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self." A must-read for anyone who likes to analyze things. It made me want to be in a book club just to discuss it. I think if I loved poetry a bit more, I might have appreciated it immensely. A few bits that I personally loved: "I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain'd, I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth." "Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) " geen besprekingen | voeg een bespreking toe
Onderdeel van de uitgeversreeks(en)Penguin 60s Classics (60) Is opgenomen inGrashalmen door Walt Whitman Leaves of Grass (1891-92 Edition) door Walt Whitman (indirect) Whitman: Poetry and Prose door Walt Whitman (indirect) Leaves of Grass and Other Writings [Norton Critical Edition, 2nd Edition] door Walt Whitman (indirect) Leaves of Grass: First and "Death-Bed" Editions door Walt Whitman (indirect) The Heath Anthology of American Literature, Volume 1 door Paul Lauter (indirect) 90 Masterpieces You Must Read (Vol.1): Novels, Poetry, Plays, Short Stories, Essays, Psychology & Philosophy door Various (indirect) The Banned Books Compendium: 32 Classic Forbidden Books door Grigory Lukin (indirect) Bestudeerd inRereadings door Anne Fadiman Heeft als een commentaar op de tekstHeeft als studiegids voor studenten
"This book offers the most comprehensive and detailed reading to date of Song of Myself. One of the most distinguished critics in Whitman Studies, Ed Folsom, and one of the nation's most prominent writers and literary figures, Christopher Merrill, carry on a dialog with Whitman, and with each other, section by section, as they invite readers to enter into the conversation about how the poem develops, moves, improvises, and surprises. Instead of picking and choosing particular passages to support a reading of the poem, Folsom and Merrill take Whitman at his word and interact with "every atom" of his work. The book presents Whitman's final version of the poem, arranged in fifty-two sections; each section is followed by Folsom's detailed critical examination of the passage, and then Merrill offers a poet's perspective, suggesting broader contexts for thinking about both the passage in question and the entire poem"-- Geen bibliotheekbeschrijvingen gevonden. |
Actuele discussiesGeenPopulaire omslagen
Google Books — Bezig met laden... GenresDewey Decimale Classificatie (DDC)811.3Literature English (North America) American poetry Middle 19th century 1830–1861LC-classificatieWaarderingGemiddelde:
Ben jij dit?Word een LibraryThing Auteur. |
Therefore - "A prose poem version of Song of Myself from the original Leaves of Grass would solve the typographical problem, would make the text more readable, and would not change the intent of the written subject."
It reads interesting, if more rushed, as I had to pause for breath. On the Roadish.
I liked it, a very interesting attempt. ( )