Seymour Mayne, 15 Word Sonnets

[EDITOR'S NOTE. My own concern with minimal forms of poetry & verbal composition goes back to the 1960s & discoveries I was making & creating in Techncians of the Sacred and Shaking the Pumpkin & connecting to experiments in our own time by poets like Ian Hamilton Finlay & others connected most specifically with what we were then speaking of as concrete poetry.  That there was a complexity of thought & act behind this was another point I had to make – both “there” & “here” – & still that point seemed obvious enough.  I called it, for Finlay & others, “a maximal poetry of minimal means,” & where I got into it myself, I found it helped to cool off, to set another temperature for what was otherwise my work.

               It’s with thoughts like this in mind that I approach Seymour Maynes’s long-running project of what he calls & practices as “word sonnets.”  In their one-word verticality I’ve found a strong resemblance too to the look & feel of Chinese poetry that led Ernest Fenellosa to see in the immediacy of the Chinese graphic/visual ideogram (set one per line) “a splendid flash of concrete poetry.”  The following, then, is from Maynes's recent gathering, Ricochet (University of Ottawa Press), composed over a short period of time & conceived by him as a single & unified series. 

Jerome   Rothenberg

PREFACE

The word sonnet is a relatively new variation of the traditional form.   In essence, it is a fourteen line poem, with one word set for each line.  Concise and usually visual in effect, this “miniature” version can contain one or more sentences, as the articulation requires.  

Each of the word sonnets in the following sequence attempts to be a pithy and suggestive poem in its own right.  Many draw on the seasons and also aim for a compact resonance that may attract the reader to return to them again and again.

JANUARY

After

the

third

fall

even

the

traffic

trails

away

in

the

thick

sinking

snow.

VESSELS

I.

In

celebration

of

God's

domestic

air,

this

show

of

confetti

stills

the

festive

tongue.

II.

Flailing

foolscap

shreds

sheet

after

sheet,

each

torn

flake

flying

then

embedding

like

seed.

III.

Today's

snow

recycles

into

yesterday's

swollen

solar

pumpkin

and

next

season's

crowded

blueberry

bush.

LIGHT

Who

believes

in

light

everlasting,

enlightening

silence,

darkness

and

the

first

and

final

word?

EQUINOX

If 

early

light

returns,

is

there

renewed

hope

for

ailing

tongues

rising

in

darkness?

HAIL

Hail

peppered

the

air

like

seed

as

you

were

lowered

below

the

frost

line.

STONE

You

have

come

and

gone

and

none

know

your

voice

or

name

but

stone.

CROWS

The

crows

of

Sandy

Hill

are

much

too

big,

sleek

with

wide

bristling

wings.

WIND                                                            

From

behind

the

maple

the

sun

flaps

its

blinding

plumage

without

a

waking

cry!

DUST

The

dust

of

afternoon

fragrance

settles

on

your

skin

and

limbs

grainy

with

touch.

PRACTICE RUN

What

is

this

sleep?

Practice?

I

put

up

my

feet

to

float

into

reverie.

SEPTEMBER RAIN

If

the

maple

trees

could,

they

would

dream

of

the

healing

entrance

of

May.

FROST

Cold

morning,

winter’s

reconnaissance

scouts

out

the

terrain

for

a

sortie

of

sudden

snow.

DECEMBER FLIGHT

These

starlings

swerve

in

flocks,

turning

their

frantic

wings

towards

the

sun’s

slanting

light.

Nota de  Lisarda-Wiki
Seymour Mayne (born 18 May 1944 in Montreal, Quebec) is a Canadian poet and literary translator. He has published over 50 works of poetry and literary criticism, and has edited several anthologies of Canadian and Jewish literature.

He also published a critical analysis of poet Irving Layton's work in 1978.

Mayne currently teaches Canadian literatur at the University of Ottaw

Libros:

• That Monocycle the Moon (1964)
• Tiptoeing on the Mount (1965)
• From the Portals of Mouseholes (1966)
• Ticklish Ticlorice (1969)
• Anewd (1969)
• Mutetations (1969)
• manimals (1969)
• The gigole teaspoon (1969)
• Mouth (1970)
• For Stems of Light (1971)
• Face (1971)
• Cutting the Keys (1974)
• Name (1975)
• Begging (1977)
• Diasporas (1977)
• Irving Layton: The Poet and His Critics (1978)
• Racoon (sic) (1979)
• The Impossible Promised Land: Poems New and Selected (1981)
• Essential Words: An Anthology of Jewish Canadian Poetry (1985)
• Children of Abel (1986)
• Killing Time (1992)
• The Song of Moses (1995)
• Jerusalem: An Anthology of Jewish Canadian Poetry, ed. with B. Glen Rotchin (1996)
• Carbon Filter: Poems in Dedication (1999)
• A Rich Garland: Poems for A. M. Klein, ed. with B. Glen Rotchin (1999)
• Light Industry (2000)
• Hail (2002)
• Ricochet (2004)
• September Rain (2005)
• I Am Still the Boy
• A Dream of Birds, written with B. Glen Rotchin (2007)
• Ricochet, bilingual English-French collection of word sonnets, translated by Sabine Huynh (2011)
• The Old Blue Couch & Other Stories (2012)

María Laura Spoturno, investigadora del CONICET en el Instituto de Investigaciones en Humanidades y Ciencias Sociales (IdIHCS, CONICET – UNLP), en colaboración con estudiantes de la cátedra de Traducción Literaria I de la Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias de la Educación de la Universidad Nacional de La Plata (UNLP).ha publicado en 2013  traducciones al español de la obra de Seymour Mayne 

Seymour Maine y Leonard  Cohen

Fuente: https://jacket2.org/commentary/seymour-mayne

John Milton, When I consider how my light is spent

When I consider how my light is spent, 
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
 And that one talent which is death to hide 
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
My true account, lest He returning chide; 
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
 I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need 
Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best 
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best.

 His state Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed, 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest; 
They also serve who only stand and wait." 

Guillermo Blest Gana, Soneto

Si a veces silencioso y pensativo

a tu lado me ves, querida mía,

es porque hallo en tus ojos la armonía

de un lenguaje tan dulce y expresivo.

Y eres tan mía entonces, que me privo

hasta oír tu voz, porque creería

que rompiendo el silencio, desunía

mi ser del tuyo, cuando en tu alma vivo.

¡Y estás tan bella; mi placer es tanto,

es tan completo cuando así te miro;

siento en mi corazón tan dulce encanto,

que me parece, a veces, que en ti admiro

una visión celeste, un sueño santo

que va a desvanecerse si respiro!

Nota- Si uno lee el soneto, se trata claramente de una poesía celebratoria, que destila amor, admiración, arrobo; en el video, la ausencia de énfasis es tal, que la misma poesía parece un canto a la indiferencia.

Amistad en tres sonetos

Catalina Clara Ramírez de Guzmán (1611-1654)
A la ausencia de una amiga, hablando con ella

Cuando quiero deciros lo que siento,

siento que he de callaros lo que quiero:
que no explican amor tan verdadero
las voces que se forman de un aliento.


Si de dulces memorias me alimento,

que enfermo del remedio considero,
y con un accidente vivo y muero,
siendo el dolor alivio del tormento.

¿Qué importa que me mate vuestra ausencia,
si en el morir por vos hallo la vida 
y vivo de la muerte a la violencia?

Pues el remedio sólo está en la herida…
mas, si no he de gozar vuestra asistencia,
la piedad de que vivo es mi homicida.



Lope de Vega-   (1562-1635)

Yo dije siempre, y lo diré, y lo digo,
que es la amistad el bien mayor humano;
mas ¿qué español, qué griego, qué romano
nos ha de dar este perfeto amigo?

Alabo, reverencio, amo, bendigo
aquel a quien el cielo soberano
dio un amigo perfeto, y no es en vano;
que fue, confieso, liberal conmigo.

Tener un grande amigo y obligalle
es el último bien, y por querelle,
el alma, el bien y el mal comunicalle;

mas yo quiero vivir sin conocelle;
que no quiero la gloria de ganalle
por no tener el miedo de perdelle.




C.S. Adema van Scheltema (1877-1924)

Na een gesprek met een vriend

Wat raakt het mij, waarom gij schamper lacht,

Nu uit de blonde Lente mij zoo blijde

En gulle glimlach schijnt, als in de tijden

Van jammervolle jeugd mij niemand bracht!

Zoo wl gevoelde ik, hoe de Muze leidde

Mijn bleeke ziel naar al die voorjaarspracht,

Die ‘k bevend blij mij soms in stilte dacht,

Maar die ik nimmer nog aan andren zeide.

Vriendschap reikt schoonheid in de eenzame ziel,

Schoon is de smart, zoo hare wond weer heelde,

Schooner is liefde – - en allen zijn zij schriel!

Zie vriend: die breede wereld breidt haar weelde

Voor mijne voeten, waar ik duizlend viel,

Ik snik en weet, dat ‘k nooit die schoonheid deelde

Vinicius de Moraes, Soneto de Fidelidade

De tudo ao meu amor serei atento
Antes, e com tal zelo, e sempre, e tanto
Que mesmo em face do maior encanto
Dele se encante mais meu pensamento.

Quero vivê-lo em cada vão momento
E em seu louvor hei de espalhar meu canto
E rir meu riso e derramar meu pranto
Ao seu pesar ou seu contentamento

E assim, quando mais tarde me procure
Quem sabe a morte, angústia de quem vive
Quem sabe a solidão, fim de quem ama

Eu possa me dizer do amor (que tive):
Que não seja imortal, posto que é chama
Mas que seja infinito enquanto dure.



Entre todo, a mi amor estaré atento 
Antes, y con tal celo, y siempre, y tanto 
que aún delante del mayor encanto 
con él se encante más mi pensamiento 

Yo lo quiero vivir cada momento 
y en su loor he de esparcir mi canto. 
Reír mi risa y derramar mi llanto. 
A su pesar o a su contentamiento 

Y ...cuando, después, venga y me busque 
Tal vez la muerte, angustia de quien vive 
Tal vez la soledad, fin de quien ama 

Pueda decirme del amor (que tuve) 
que no sea inmortal puesto que es llama 
pero sea infinito mientras dure 

SONNET ON FIDELITY

          Translated by Ashley Brown

Above all, to my love I'11 be attentive

First, and always with such ardor, so much

That even when confronted by this great

Enchantment my thoughts ascend to more delight.

I want to live it through in each vain moment

And in its honor I must spread my song

And laugh with my delight and shed my tears

When she is sad or when she is contented.

And thus, when afterward comes looking for me

Who knows what death, anxiety of the living,

Who knows what loneliness, end of the loving

I could say to myself of the love (I had):

Let it not be immortal, since it is flame

But let it be infinite while it lasts.

Shakespeare's Sonnets Audiobook

Raymond Queneau, Cien mil millones de poemas