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Poetry meme
When you see this, post your favorite poem in your journal.
Every time I see the poetry meme on my frieds list, I am momentarily tempted to post my actual favourite poem...which is very, very long and you'd hate me for making you scroll past it. But I shall show mercy and post another favourite instead.
I first came across this one in my teens, quoted in a trashy novel. The imagery just catches at my soul. In a way, this hits me in the same place as a good slash fic: not sex, but the tangle of emotions surrounding sex: angst and love and despair and desire all rolled up into a ball and wrapped in beautiful words. It's by Ernest Dowson...and I have no idea what the title means.
Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee Cynara! in my fashion.
Every time I see the poetry meme on my frieds list, I am momentarily tempted to post my actual favourite poem...which is very, very long and you'd hate me for making you scroll past it. But I shall show mercy and post another favourite instead.
I first came across this one in my teens, quoted in a trashy novel. The imagery just catches at my soul. In a way, this hits me in the same place as a good slash fic: not sex, but the tangle of emotions surrounding sex: angst and love and despair and desire all rolled up into a ball and wrapped in beautiful words. It's by Ernest Dowson...and I have no idea what the title means.
Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee Cynara! in my fashion.
no subject
Mmmm - that's gorgeous. I've never read it before, thank you!
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I used to quote this to my Mum as justification for the crappy novels I used to read. Mum thought I should be reading "good" novels, but I never would have found this poem that way. It was some cliche-ridden romantic not-quite-porn set in Singapore, and the girl read this to her boyfriend just before he goes off to war...
Anyhow, I only had one verse and this was pre-internet so I couldn't google it like I did today. I asked every English teacher in my school until I found someone who could tell me who wrote it and how to find the rest. And I've never forgotten it.
Someday I'll remember to ask someone to translate the title :-)
no subject
That's a gorgeous poem, thanks for posting it.
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Very interesting poem. I googled for the translation of the title, since I am a very curious person, and I found this:
"Dowson, Ernest (1867-1900) - English poet who lived a brief and reckless life. He fell in love with a waitress (Dowson's "Cynara") and wrote his best work for her.
"Cynara," unable to understand his verse, ran away with a waiter and Dowson spent the rest of his life in squalor.
Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae (1896) - The title is from Horace's Ode IV: "I am not what I was under the reign of the lovely Cynara." "
Here (http://www.19.5degs.com/ebook/non-sum-qualis-eram-bonae-sub-regno-cynarae/1085m)
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Why not either post your favourite poem under a cut, with a warning *snerk* OR post the first verse, then a link to it, because it's probably online somewhere. =>}
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'Cause it's Paradise Lost...I doubt the whole thing would fit in one post. Actually, I'm not sure any one of the books would fit in one post :-)
I dunno. Next time this meme rolls around I might pick out a passage or two. The passage in Hell when the demons escape the lake, or one of Satan's monologues in the Garden. But I can usually come up with an alternative.
Most of my faves are on the long side, though. The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes is one of my favourites, and there's a really long poem about a fox hunt Reynard's Last Run - I can never remember the poet.
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Well, I found some links for you. If someone wants to read Paradise Lost, they can go to Paradise Lost online (http://www.online-literature.com/milton/paradiselost/)
I love The Highwayman. I have a sung version by Phil Ochs that I enjoy listening to, although he doesn't sing the complete poem.
The Highwayman, Alfred Noyes (1880-1958) (http://www.potw.org/archive/potw85.html)
And here, I think, is the other poem you mention. I love to Google. *g*
Reynard the Fox Or the Ghost Heath Run by John Masefield (http://www.btinternet.com/~countryside.webservice/masefield.htm#rey)
no subject
Wow!
*copies*