Article
Editorial: January 2006
April 24, 2006
From Zimbabwe, the words of {id="5761" title="Phillip Zhuwao"}, a young man struck down in the prime of his life, take us into the deepest sorrows of his country, “whose children burn mercedes tyres”. There is a potent and tragic beauty to be found in his descriptions, as well as the following proposition: “In their short lives/ Poets live longer” (‘my blue resignation conclude’). Zhuwao’s poetry has outlasted the poet and with it he compellingly plays witness to Zimbabwean rural life.
In Portugal we travel back in time to two nineteenth century poets experiencing the national emotion – saudade. This form of longing for the past and yet for the future too, nostalgia mixed with yearning, could also be transformative and life affirming. The poetry of {id="4642" title="Antero de Quental"} and {id="4658" title="Teixeira de Pascoaes"}, wonderfully translated by Richard Zenith, strikes me for its romanticism and melancholy. The latter writes: “When the first tear welled up/ In my eyes, divine clarity/ Lit up my village homeland/ With the sad light of longing.” (‘Poet’).
Melancholy we find again in Colombia, where {id="1274" title="José Asunción Silva"}, a well-known poet, also from the nineteenth century, writes of the relationship between verse and emotion: “True passion might in fact / Have been…these pages,/ That were they written in happier times /Would have appeared as tears, not verses” (‘For the Reader’s Ear’). He is joined by two compatriots, young poet {id="1268" title="Felipe García Quintero"} and {id="1267" title="Carlos Vásquez"} – so that we can travel across three generations of talent blossoming in a beleaguered country.
Contemporary Japanese poet, {id="3774" title="Ishigaki Rin"}, demonstrates how modern poetry in her country is undergoing formal renovation. Her sometimes feminist free verse touches on women’s positions in society, she herself combines the roles of worker (bank clerk), carer and poet. “There have been for ages/ Objects always placed/ In front of us women.” (‘In Front of the Rice-pot and’) In the poem ‘Words’, her philosophy appears intriguingly eastern: a fish reminds her of a line from a poem, what is she to the fish? “Who can say that I am not words?” This circular vision presents an interesting comment on the poetic form.
Finally, the Netherlands introduces {id="4030" title="Mustafa Stitou"}, a young poet who uses irony and his own multicultural background to great effect. Like Zhuwao his verse feeds from colloquial registers. David Colmer’s skilled translation brings us the trenchant lines : “Left, a slender gold-haired goddess – / she didn’t deign to notice me./ I brushed it off : since 9/11 /there hasn’t been much call / for Arabs.” (‘Anton’)
Enjoy this issue and a Happy New Year from everyone at PIW.
This month we welcome Japan to PIW for the first time, a country with a rich poetic heritage and a traditional focus on stringent formal conventions. Editor Yasuhiro Yotsumoto, a leading poet himself, will introduce us to innovative post-war Japanese poetry, which has broken away from previous genres such as the Haiku or Tanka and is free in spirit as well as in form. He promises us the poetic equivalents of Haruki Murakami and of Pokemon, poetry which reflects the realities of modern Japan.
As I begin my new role as Central Editor with great optimism and read through the new edition, I’m nevertheless struck by how much hardship has played a part in the composition of many of the poems and recurs as a theme. Many of the poets in this issue have lived incredibly difficult or depressing lives, and yet have still managed to write beautiful verse. Perhaps, as American poet W.S. Merwin suggests (in Regions of Memory): “absolute despair has no art, and I imagine the writing of a poem, in whatever mode, still betrays the existence of hope . . . And what the poem manages to find hope for may be part of what it keeps trying to say.” From Zimbabwe, the words of {id="5761" title="Phillip Zhuwao"}, a young man struck down in the prime of his life, take us into the deepest sorrows of his country, “whose children burn mercedes tyres”. There is a potent and tragic beauty to be found in his descriptions, as well as the following proposition: “In their short lives/ Poets live longer” (‘my blue resignation conclude’). Zhuwao’s poetry has outlasted the poet and with it he compellingly plays witness to Zimbabwean rural life.
In Portugal we travel back in time to two nineteenth century poets experiencing the national emotion – saudade. This form of longing for the past and yet for the future too, nostalgia mixed with yearning, could also be transformative and life affirming. The poetry of {id="4642" title="Antero de Quental"} and {id="4658" title="Teixeira de Pascoaes"}, wonderfully translated by Richard Zenith, strikes me for its romanticism and melancholy. The latter writes: “When the first tear welled up/ In my eyes, divine clarity/ Lit up my village homeland/ With the sad light of longing.” (‘Poet’).
Melancholy we find again in Colombia, where {id="1274" title="José Asunción Silva"}, a well-known poet, also from the nineteenth century, writes of the relationship between verse and emotion: “True passion might in fact / Have been…these pages,/ That were they written in happier times /Would have appeared as tears, not verses” (‘For the Reader’s Ear’). He is joined by two compatriots, young poet {id="1268" title="Felipe García Quintero"} and {id="1267" title="Carlos Vásquez"} – so that we can travel across three generations of talent blossoming in a beleaguered country.
Contemporary Japanese poet, {id="3774" title="Ishigaki Rin"}, demonstrates how modern poetry in her country is undergoing formal renovation. Her sometimes feminist free verse touches on women’s positions in society, she herself combines the roles of worker (bank clerk), carer and poet. “There have been for ages/ Objects always placed/ In front of us women.” (‘In Front of the Rice-pot and’) In the poem ‘Words’, her philosophy appears intriguingly eastern: a fish reminds her of a line from a poem, what is she to the fish? “Who can say that I am not words?” This circular vision presents an interesting comment on the poetic form.
Finally, the Netherlands introduces {id="4030" title="Mustafa Stitou"}, a young poet who uses irony and his own multicultural background to great effect. Like Zhuwao his verse feeds from colloquial registers. David Colmer’s skilled translation brings us the trenchant lines : “Left, a slender gold-haired goddess – / she didn’t deign to notice me./ I brushed it off : since 9/11 /there hasn’t been much call / for Arabs.” (‘Anton’)
Enjoy this issue and a Happy New Year from everyone at PIW.
© Michele Hutchison
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère