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| 博弈 ?2009-03-13 12:38:32?? |  |
"What is the figure? What is the figure?" -- Shakespeare
"The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom. The figure is the same as for love." --Robert Frost
Though this is often used as a casual way to joke about the figure a poem makes. But I see the 'figure'.
Attached is an article Robert wrote, could be worthwhile reading;
The Figure a Poem Makes by Robert Frost
Abstraction is an old story with the philosophers, but it has been like a new toy in the hands of the artists of our day. Why can't we have any one quality of poetry we choose by itself? We can have in thought. Then it will go hard if we can't in practice. Our lives for it.
Granted no one but a humanist much cares how sound a poem is if it is only a sound. The sound is the gold in the ore. Then we will have the sound out alone and dispense with the inessential. We do till we make the discovery that the object in writing poetry is to make all poems sound as different as possible from each other, and the resources for that of vowels, consonants, punctuation, syntax, words, sentences, metre are not enough. We need the help of context- meaning-subject matter. That is the greatest help towards variety. All that can be done with words is soon told. So also with metres-particularly in our language where there are virtually but two, strict iambic and loose iambic. The ancients with many were still poor if they depended on metres for all tune. It is painful to watch our sprung-rhythmists straining at the point of omitting one short from a foot for relief from monotony. The possibilities for tune from the dramatic tones of meaning struck across the rigidity of a limited metre are endless. And we are back in poetry as merely one more art of having something to say, sound or unsound. Probably better if sound, because deeper and from wider experience.
Then there is this wildness whereof it is spoken. Granted again that it has an equal claim with sound to being a poem's better half. If it is a wild tune, it is a Poem. Our problem then is, as modern abstractionists, to have the wildness pure; to be wild with nothing to be wild about. We bring up as aberrationists, giving way to undirected associations and kicking ourselves from one chance suggestion to another in all directions as of a hot afternoon in the life of a grasshopper. Theme alone can steady us down. just as the first mystery was how a poem could have a tune in such a straightness as metre, so the second mystery is how a poem can have wildness and at the same time a subject that shall be fulfilled.
It should be of the pleasure of a poem itself to tell how it can. The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom. The figure is the same as for love. No one can really hold that the ecstasy should be static and stand still in one place. It begins in delight, it inclines to the impulse, it assumes direction with the first line laid down, it runs a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification of life-not necessarily a great clarification, such as sects and cults are founded on, but in a momentary stay against confusion. It has denouement. It has an outcome that though unforeseen was predestined from the first image of the original mood-and indeed from the very mood. It is but a trick poem and no poem at all if the best of it was thought of first and saved for the last. It finds its own name as it goes and discovers the best waiting for it in some final phrase at once wise and sad-the happy-sad blend of the drinking song.
No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader. For me the initial delight is in the surprise of remembering something I didn't know I knew. I am in a place, in a situation, as if I had materialized from cloud or risen out of the ground. There is a glad recognition of the long lost and the rest follows. Step by step the wonder of unex pected supply keeps growing. The impressions most useful to my purpose seem always those I was unaware of and so made no note of at the time when taken, and the conclusion is come to that like giants we are always hurling experience ahead of us to pave the future with against the day when we may Want to strike a line of purpose across it for somewhere. The line will have the more charm for not being mechanically straight. We enjoy the straight crookedness of a good walking stick. Modern instruments of precision are being used to make things crooked as if by eye and hand in the old days.
I tell how there may be a better wildness of logic than of inconsequence. But the logic is backward, in retrospect, after the act. It must be more felt than seen ahead like prophecy. It must be a revelation, or a series of revelations, as much for the poet as for the reader. For it to be that there must have been the greatest freedom of the material to move about in it and to establish relations in it regardless of time and space, previous relation, and everything but affinity. We prate of freedom. We call our schools free because we are not free to stay away from them till we are sixteen years of age. I have given up my democratic prejudices and now willingly set the lower classes free to be completely taken care of by the upper classes. Political freedom is nothing to me. I bestow it right and left. All I would keep for myself is the freedom of my material-the condition of body and mind now and then to summons aptly from the vast chaos of all I have lived through.
Scholars and artists thrown together are often annoyed at the puzzle of where they differ. Both work from knowledge; but I suspect t ey differ most importantly in the way their knowledge is come by. Scholars get theirs with conscientious thoroughness along projected lines of logic; poets theirs cavalierly and as it happens in and out of books. They stick to nothing deliberately, but let what will stick to them like burrs where they walk in the fields. No acquirement is on assignment, or even self-assignment. Knowledge of the second kind is much more available in the wild free ways of wit and art. A schoolboy may be defined as one who can tell you what he knows in the order in which he learned it. The artist must value himself as he snatches a thing from some previous order in time and space into a new order with not so much as a ligature clinging to it of the old place where it was organic. More than once I should have lost my soul to radicalism if it had been the originality it was mistaken for by its young converts. Originality and initiative are what I ask for my country. For myself the originality need be no more than the freshness of a poem run in the way I have described: from delight to wisdom. The figure is the same as for love. Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. A poem may be worked over once it is in being, but may not be worried into being. Its most precious quality will remain its having run itself and carried away the poet with it. Read it a hundred times: it will forever keep its freshness as a petal keeps its fragrance. It can never lose its sense of a meaning that once unfolded by surprise as it went.
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| nobody ?2009-03-13 13:48:55?? | |
好贴。可谓是诗与评交相辉映。读来过瘾，学到很多。
先不说诗，写诗的出身理工的不少，达到非马老师造诣的不多。威斯康辛的工程博士，不是混的。现在排名大概至少前15吧。我在麦迪逊1年半，冬天不提，夏天极美。memorial union 百走不厌。也有几次想到，非马老师在这里钓过鱼哩 （他提起过） 
说到诗，个人浅见，最大特点是“简单而深刻”。
手法上，跟很多人的“散手”形成鲜明对比，即，异常集中。每次就make one point （当然这个point本身可能会引发多重思考），完了扭头就走。 上面博弈引的bird cage就很有代表性。
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| 白水 ?2009-03-13 13:58:52?? | |
哈，周末的感觉真好，可以静下心来读点自己喜欢的东西了。博士，谢谢分享， 辛苦了。
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| 上城 ?2009-03-14 01:55:30?? | |
消化不容易。非常好，得认真读几回。期待博弈先生更多的point
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| 博弈 ?2009-03-14 11:28:52?? | |
转打一些文字, 这是台湾的九歌文库出版的《新诗三百首》中对非马诗人的简单鉴评语：
“他的诗惯以平实的语言，浓缩的短句和富于张力的意象，十分机智地表现对现实社会的关切和批判。作者对人性的观察以及富有同情心，不时在诗作中不露痕迹的呈示，给与读者留下颇为深刻的印象。“
诗人北岛，芒克，舒婷，梁小斌，海子，顾城等也在选集内。在这本选集内（上下两册），诗人非马编排在‘海外诗人’部。这个评语提供大家作参考，虽是根据过去（1995之前）中文的作品而言的。‘95之后，两岸，海外的汉语诗人都起了很大的变化，尤其在网络诗人这一部分，等待以后怎么看吧。
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| 上城 ?2009-03-14 14:53:49?? | |
| 上城 写到: |
| 消化不容易。非常好，得认真读几回。期待博弈先生更多的point |
英文于我稍微有一点吃力。读过博弈先生的诗评对非马先生的诗歌有更进一步的认识。不过我发现非马先生的诗歌“非马诗式”有一些公式化的现象~~~如这一首
读书
打 开 书
字 带 头
句 跟 随
一 下 子 跑 得 精 光
只 剩 下
一 个 畅 销 的 书 名
以 及 人 人 谈 论 的
作 者 的 名 字
果 然 好 书
READING
As soon as he opens the book
words lead the way
and sentences follow
all disappear in a hurry
Only the best-selling title
and the hotly talked-about name
of the author
remain
What a great book
但无关总体的成就。还是非常喜欢非马先生的诗歌。我想非马诗歌的风格应该是适应了“报刊、杂志、网络”的潮流吧（如果太繁难，恐怕更“众说纷纭”了（诗歌一般都容易引起有争议））
非马先生的诗歌有一种形式的美感【联想起非马先生的工作是与造核弹有关的，非常敬慕。真是达-芬奇式的人物】，更是不可多得的~~
认真学习
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| 冰花 ?2009-03-14 15:25:56?? | |
博弈老师读得细致,评的认真, 读后受益匪浅! 许多观点深有共鸣和同感! 这样的学术态度让人感动, 更令人钦佩!
读到这篇好文, 就快注册进来留个言~~~
致敬!
问好!
冰花
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| 杯中冲浪 ?2009-03-15 02:44:52?? | |
博弈兄文字自如，评说真诚，不矫饰、不玄虚，不媚，朴拙如己。非马先生的确如文字所言，睿智而拙真，能让人亲近的人。
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| William Zhou周道模 ?2009-03-16 15:39:12?? | |
先占位子。先生的英语诗正在研读中，读完我再来说点体会。
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| Lake ?2009-03-16 17:15:32?? | |
诗如其人，非马先生的诗如其本人，是清癯的， no fat, but bare bones.
有人说，诗如同装在漂流瓶中的信，我欣赏博弈以他独特的方法来译解。
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