Material for Modernism. Post-Modernism’

Material for Modernism. Post-Modernism’

William B.Yeats The Circus Animals' Desertion I I sought a theme and sought for it in vain, I sought it daily for six weeks or so. Maybe at last, being but a broken man, I must be satisfied with my heart, although Winter and summer till old age began My circus animals were all on show, Those stilted boys, that burnished chariot, Lion and woman and the Lord knows what. II What can I but enumerate old themes, First that sea-rider Oisin led by the nose Through three enchanted islands, allegorical dreams, Vain gaiety, vain battle, vain repose, Themes of the embittered heart, or so it seems, That might adorn old songs or courtly shows; But what cared I that set him on to ride, I, starved for the bosom of his faery bride. And then a counter-truth filled out its play, 'The Countess Cathleen' was the name I gave it; She, pity-crazed, had given her soul away, But masterful Heaven had intervened to save it. I thought my dear must her own soul destroy So did fanaticism and hate enslave it, And this brought forth a dream and soon enough This dream itself had all my thought and love. And when the Fool and Blind Man stole the bread Cuchulain fought the ungovernable sea; Heart-mysteries there, and yet when all is said It was the dream itself enchanted me: Character isolated by a deed To engross the present and dominate memory. Players and painted stage took all my love, And not those things that they were emblems of. III Those masterful images because complete Grew in pure mind, but out of what began? A mound of refuse or the sweepings of a street, Old kettles, old bottles, and a broken can, Old iron, old bones, old rags, that raving slut Who keeps the till. Now that my ladder's gone, I must lie down where all the ladders start In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.

Уильям Йейтс ПАРАД-АЛЛЕ IГде взять мне тему? В голове – разброд,За целый месяц – ни стихотворенья.А может, хватит удивлять народ?Ведь старость – не предмет для обозренья.И так зверинец мой из года в годЯвлялся каждый вечер на арене:Шут на ходулях, маг из шапито,Львы, колесницы – и Бог знает кто.IIОсталось вспоминать былые темы:Путь Ойсина в туман и буруныК трем заповедным островам поэмы,Тщета любви, сражений, тишины;Вкус горечи и океанской пены,Подмешанный к преданьям старины;Какое мне до них, казалось, дело?Но к бледной деве сердце вожделело.Потом иная правда верх взяла.Графиня Кэтлин начала мне сниться;Она за бедных душу отдала,- Но Небо помешало злу свершиться.Я знал: моя любимая моглаИз одержимости на все решиться.Так зародился образ – и возникВ моих мечтах моей любви двойник.А там – Кухулин, бившийся с волнами,Пока бродяга набивал мешок;Не тайны сердца в легендарной раме – Сам образ красотой меня увлек:Судьба героя в безрассудной драме,Неслыханного подвига урок.Да, я любил эффект и мизансцену,- Забыв про то, что им давало цену.IIIА рассудить, откуда все взялось – Дух и сюжет, комедия и драма?Из мусора, что век на свалку свез,Галош и утюгов, тряпья и хлама,Жестянок, склянок, бормотаний, слез,Как вспомнишь все, не оберешься срама.Пора, пора уж мне огни тушить, Что толку эту рухлядь ворошить! Пер. Г. Кружкова

Questions: 1. What theme was Yeats looking for in the 1^st stanza? How long does he spend on a fruitless search? 2. What theme must he be satisfied with in the end? 3. How were things different when he was younger? 4. How do you interpret the image of the circus animals in this context? 5. What does the symbol of ladder stand for? What is the true source of it? 6. What must a poet do when inspiration fails?

From The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. Eliot LET us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats 5 Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10 Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15 The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20 And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25 There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30 Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go 35 Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40 [They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”] Do I dare 45 Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all:— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50 I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?...

Из Песни любви Дж. Альфреда Пруфрока Т.С. Элиот Ну что же, я пойду с тобой ^[10], Когда под небом вечер стихнет, как больной Под хлороформом на столе хирурга, Ну что ж, пойдем вдоль малолюдных улиц — Опилки на полу, скорлупки устриц В дешевых кабаках, в бормочущих притонах, В ночлежках для ночей бессонных: Уводят улицы, как скучный спор, И подведут в упор К убийственному для тебя вопросу… Не спрашивай, о чем. Ну что ж, давай туда пойдем. В гостиной дамы тяжело Беседуют о Микеланджело. Туман своею желтой шерстью трется о стекло, Дым своей желтой мордой тычется в стекло, Вылизывает язычком все закоулки сумерек, Выстаивает у канав, куда из водостоков натекло, Вылавливает шерстью копоть из каминов, Скользнул к террасе, прыгнул, успевает Понять, что это все октябрьский тихий вечер, И, дом обвив, мгновенно засыпает. Надо думать, будет время Дыму желтому по улице ползти И тереться шерстью о стекло; Будет время, будет время Подготовиться к тому, чтобы без дрожи Встретить тех, кого встречаешь по пути; И время убивать и вдохновляться, И время всем трудам и дням ^[11] всерьез Перед тобой поставить и, играя, В твою тарелку уронить вопрос, И время мнить, и время сомневаться, И время боязливо примеряться К бутерброду с чашкой чая. В гостиной дамы тяжело Беседуют о Микеланджело И, конечно, будет время Подумать: «Я посмею? Разве я посмею?» Время вниз по лестнице скорее Зашагать и показать, как я лысею, — (Люди скажут: «Посмотрите, он лысеет!») Мой утренний костюм суров, и тверд воротничок, Мой галстук с золотой булавкой прост и строг — (Люди скажут: «Он стареет, он слабеет!») Разве я посмею Потревожить мирозданье? Каждая минута — время Для решенья и сомненья, отступленья и терзанья. Я знаю их уже давно, давно их знаю — Все эти утренники, вечера и дни, Я жизнь свою по чайной ложке отмеряю, Я слышу отголоски дальней болтовни, Где под рояль в гостиной дамы спелись. Так как же я осмелюсь?… Пер. А. Сергеева

Questions: 1. What does Eliot’s striking use of pronouns convey, in your opinion? 2. What is unusual about the simile of love (Line 3)? 3. What is the overwhelming question about (Line 10)? 4. What might the lines about Michelangelo satirize? 5. How are the lines from the Bible distorted in Stanza 4? What for? 6. How is the character and appearance of Prufrock seen in the extract?

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Дилан Томас Не уходи без слов во мрак ночной — Ты должен вспыхнуть в пламени заката, Восстать над неизбежной темнотой! Мудрец поймет, что бесполезен бой, Что крик — не вспышка молнии крылатой, Но не уйдет без слов во мрак ночной. И праведник с последнею волной Покинет свой залив зеленоватый, Восстав над неизбежной темнотой! Дикарь, поющий солнцу гимн земной, Так поздно узнает, что нет возврата. Но не сойдет без слов во мрак ночной! Пусть каждому достался жребий свой — Великие уходят, но тогда-то Горит их взор падучею звездой. Там, в вышине, слезами удостой Меня, отец мой — горькая утрата, — Не уходи без слов во мрак ночной, Восстань над неизбежной темнотой! Перевод О. Чугай

Questions: 1. Do you agree with the speaker that people should fiercely resist death, clinging passionately to their lives? 2. Does your reaction to the repeated lines change "Do not go gentle into that good night" and "Rage, rage against the dying of the light" as the poem progresses? 3. How would the poem sound different if Thomas had written "gently" instead of "gentle" in the refrain? 4. Compare the refrains with the beginning of John Donne's "A Valediction Forbidding Mourning" which begins with the words "As virtuous men pass mildly away." 5. What's the relationship between age and strength in this poem? What kinds of strength do old men (and women!) have? What kinds of strength do they lack? 6. What metaphors does the poem use? What do they characterize death? 7. Why does the speaker think his father should "curse" and "bless" his son, as the elder is dying? How would this poem be different if there was no reference to the speaker's father in the last stanza, so that it was entirely about "old age" in general?

Crow Blacker Than Ever by Ted Hughes When God, disgusted with man, Turned towards heaven, And man, disgusted with God, Turned towards Eve, Things looked like falling apart. But Crow Crow Crow nailed them together, Nailing heaven and earth together- So man cried, but with God's voice. And God bled, but with man's blood. Then heaven and earth creaked at the joint Which became gangrenous and stank- A horror beyond redemption. The agony did not diminish. Man could not be man nor God God. The agony Grew. Crow Grinned Crying: "This is my Creation," Flying the black flag of himself.

Ворон чернее обычного Когда Бог, отвернувшись от человека, Обратился лицом к небу, А человек, отвернувшись от Бога, Обратился лицом к Еве, Казалось, что мир развалился на части. Но Ворон, Ворон, Ворон, вцепившись когтями, Соединил небо и землю. Тогда человек заплакал, но голосом Бога, И Бог истекал, но человеческой кровью. Земля и Небо скрипели в месте стыковки, И началась гангрена, и вонь Стояла ужасная. Агония не проходила. Не мог человек быть человеком, и Богом Бог. Агония. Крик. Ворон С насмешкой Кричит: "Это моя работа!" Летит знаменем черным и славит себя самого.

Questions: 1. In what way is the Crow the Creator? What is the purpose of its creation? 2. To what texts can you find allusions in this poem? 3. How is the concept of pain represented? 4. What are the peculiarities of rhythm and structure of the poem?

DIGGING by Seamus Justin Heaney Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was levered firmly. He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep To scatter new potatoes that we picked, Loving their cool hardness in our hands. By God, the old man could handle a spade. Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Toner’s bog. Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up To drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, going down and down For the good turf. Digging. The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I’ve no spade to follow men like them. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it.

Questions 1. At what part in the poem do we go back in the past? 2. What is the poet’s father doing in the past? 3. What memory takes the poet back even further in the past? 4. What are the sensual imaged in the poem? 5. How does the poet ‘dig’ with his pen?

Toads by Philip Larkin Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life?Can't I use my wit as a pitchfork And drive the brute off? Six days of the week it soils …………….….5 With its sickening poison - Just for paying a few bills! That's out of proportion.Lots of folk live on their wits: Lecturers, lispers,………………………………..………………….10Losels, loblolly-men, louts- They don't end as paupers; Lots of folk live up lanes With fires in a bucket, Eat windfalls and tinned sardin……………..15 they seem to like it.Their nippers have got bare feet, Their unspeakable wivesAre skinny as whippets - and yet No one actually starves ……………………………………………..20 Ah, were I courageous enough To shout Stuff your pension! But I know, all too well, that's the stuff

For something sufficiently toad-like…………………………..25 Squats in me, too;Its hunkers are heavy as hard luck, And cold as snow, And will never allow me to blarney My way of getting………………………….30 The fame and the girl and the money All at one sitting.I don't say, one bodies the other One's spiritual truth;But I do say it's hard to lose either,…………………….…………35 When you have both. Questions 1. How many amphibians are presented? What is their imagery like? What do they mean? Why are exactly the toads chosen by the poet? How can one get rid of the toads? 2. How does the author fill in the concept of ‘wit’? 3. What modes of living are described in the poem? What are their properties? Which one is more suitable for the poet? Why? 4. Comment on the effects of the alliteration instances (S-alliteration in Lines 5-6 and 25-26; L-alliteration in Lines 9-11; H-alliteration in Line 28.)

This be the verse by Philip Larkin They fuck you up, your mom and dad They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-stylen hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another's throats. Man hands on misery to man It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can And don't have any kids yourself

Сгнобят тебя отец и мать, Пусть не нарочно, но сгнобят. Своих сомнений, страхов рать — Плюс пару свеженьких — внедрят. Гнобили прежде их самих Придурки в шляпах прошлый век — Слащаво-строгие для них И желчно-злобные для всех. Несчастность въелась в ДНК, Растет как тесто на дрожжах. Беги «родного очага» И сам детей не нарожай.

Questions 1. Find the examples of colloquial vocabulary in the poem. Why do you think the author made use of the lot? 2. Where do people’s faults come from according to the poem? 3. What are typical grandparents like (Stanza 3?) 4. Why is human misery compared with the coastal shelf? 5. Do you think the poet is serious about the refusal of children?

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