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- Ezra Pound discussion list of the University of Maine <[log in to unmask]>
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Tim Romano <[log in to unmask]>
Date:
Fri, 31 Jan 2003 14:49:32 -0500
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- Ezra Pound discussion list of the University of Maine <[log in to unmask]>
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Brennen wrote:

>  The problem with Pound is that if
>one doesn't share his extensive classical education, then one cannot fully
>grasp his images without referring to other texts. The meaning is not fully
>contained in the poems.

True enough, but is it appropriate to call this a "problem with Pound"?
Couldn't  it just as easily be described as a problem with education?


>Therefore I go back to my central question: To what extent did Ezra Pound
>write in the "language of common speech,"  [...] Also: How can one get to
>images when the poem
>refers to so many other works other than itself? Is Pound's poetry "hard and
>clear?"


The allusions occur in poems that ARE written "in the language of common
speech."  The allusions and the diction are separate 'issues' or 'problems'
if you want to call them that. The use of foreign languages does not mean
that Pound's language is muddy or that his lines lack a "hard edge".
Compare these two poems; each has what might be called an oriental theme;
the first talks of pagodas and Chinese geese, the second of sennins.
Which  of the two strikes you as being closer to spoken language? Which of
the two has the greater clarity?

#1
Bells of gray crystal
Break on each bough--
The swans' breath will mist all
The cold airs now.
Like tall pagodas
Two people go,
Trail their long codas
Of talk through the snow.
Lonely are these
And lonely and I ....
The clouds, gray Chinese geese
Sleek through the sky.

#2
The red and green kingfishers flash between the orchids and clover,
One bird casts its gleam on another.

Green vines hang through the high forest,
They weave a whole roof to the mountain,
The lone man sits with shut speech,
He purrs and pats the clear strings.
He throws his heart up through the sky,
He bites through the flower pistil and brings up a fine fountain.
The red-pine-tree god looks at him and wonders.
He rides through the purple smoke to visit the sennin,
He takes "Floating Hill" by the sleeve,
He claps his hand on the back of the great water sennin.

But you, you damn'd crowd of gnats,
Can you even tell the age of a turtle?

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