Make-strong old dreams lest this our world lose heart.

Xenia

And

Unto thine eyes my heart

Sendeth old dreams of the spring-time,

Yea of wood-ways my rime

Found thee and flowers in and of all streams

That sang low burthen, and of roses,

That lost their dew-bowed petals for the dreams

We scattered o'er them passing by.

  

Search

I have heard a wee wind searching

Through still forests for me;

I have seen a wee wind searching

O'er still sea.

Through woodlands dim have I taken my way;

And o'er silent waters night and day

Have I sought the wee wind.

from Canto CXV

The scientists are in terror
             and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
             rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
             the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
             how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
             but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
                 where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
          neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
            doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
                   where the dead walked
                              and the living were made of cardboard.

Tenzone, Ezra Pound

Will people accept them?
(i.e. these songs).
As a timorous wench from a centaur
(or a centurion),
Already they flee, howling in terror.

Will they be touched with the verisimilitudes?
Their virgin stupidity is untemptable.
I beg you, my friendly critics,
Do not set about to procure me an audience.

I mate with my free kind upon the crags;
the hidden recesses
Have heard the echo ofmy heels,
in the cool light,
in the darkness.

Hugh Selwyn Mauberley, Pound

Ode Pour De Selection De Son Sepulchre 

FOR three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start--

No hardly, but, seeing he had been born
In a half savage country, out of date;
Bent resolutely on wringing lilies from the acorn;
Capaneus; trout for factitious bait;

ἴδμεν γάρ τοι πάν πάνθ', όσ' ένι Τροίη
Caught in the unstopped ear;
Giving the rocks small lee-way
The chopped seas held him, therefore, that year.

His true Penelope was Flaubert,
He fished by obstinate isles;
Observed the elegance of Circe's hair
Rather than the mottoes on sun-dials.

Unaffected by "the march of events,"
He passed from men's memory in _l'an trentiesme
De son eage_; the case presents
No adjunct to the Muses' diadem.

(...)

Ezra Pound e Pasolini

Os senhores Ezra Pound e Pasolini: recordem a frase do segundo sobre a verdade... 

“E, em tua mente, beleza, / Ó Artêmes.”

Os Cantos, CXIII, Trad. JLG

Inédito?

Canto LXXIII

E poi dormii
E svegliandomi nell'aere perso
Vidi e sentii,
E quel ch'io vidi mi pareva andar a cavallo,
E sentii:
«A me non fa gioia
Che la mia stirpe muoia
infangata della vergogna
Governata dalla carogna
e spergiurata.
Roosevelt, Churchill ed Eden
& vervolgens sliep ik
Ontwakend in de verloren lucht
Zag & gevoelde ik
& wat ik zag scheen te paard te stijgen,
& ik hoorde:
«Het verheugt mij niet
Dat mijn geslacht op sterven ligt
bevlekt met schaamte
Door liederlike luyden beheerst
& meinedig.
Roosevelt, Churchill & Eden
bastardi ed ebreucci
Lurchi e bugiardi tutti
e il popolo spremuto in tutto
ed idiota!
Morte che fui a Sarzana
aspetto la diana
della riscossa.
Sono quel Guido che amasti
pel mio spirito altiero
E la chiarezza del mio intendimento.
De la Ciprigna sfera
Conobbi il fulgore
gią cavalcante
(mai postiglione)
Per le vie del Borgo
detto altramente
La cittą dolente
(Firenze)
sempre divisa,
Gente stizzosa e leggiera
che razza di schiavi!
Passai per Arimnio
ed incontrai
uno spirito gagliardo
Che cantava come incantata
di gioia!
Era una contadinella
Un po' tozza ma bella
batards & petits Juifs
Tous avides & menteurs
& le peuple épuisé en toutes choses & idiot!
Je fus mort ą Sarzana
j'attend la diane
de la rescousse.
Je suis le Guido que tu aimas
pour mon esprit fičre
& la clarté de mon entendement.
De la sphčre de Chypre
Je connus la splendeur
déją gallopante
(jamais postillon)
Le long les voies du Bourg
autrement ditLa ville douloureuse
(Florence)
toujours divisée,
Des gens colčreux & légers
sale race!
Je passai par Arimnio
& je rencontrai
un esprit vaillant
Qui chantait comme enchanté
de joie!
Une petite paysanne
Un peu ronde mais belle
ch' aveva a braccio due tedeschi
E cantava,
cantava amore
senz' aver bisogno
d'andar in cielo.
Aveva condotto i canadesi
su un campo di mine
Dove era il Tempio della bella Ixotta.
Camminavano in quattro o in cinque
ed io ero ghiotto
d'amore ancora
malgrado i miei anni.
Cosi sono le ragazze
nella Romagna.
Venivan' canadesi
a 'spurgnar' i tedeschi,
A rovinar' quel che rimaneva
della cittą di Rimini;
Domandarono la strada
per la Via Emi1ia
a una ragazza,
una ragazza stuprata
Po' prima da lor canaglia.
- Be'! Be'! soldati! .
Quest' č la strada.
Andiamo, andiamo
a Via Emilia! -
qui tenait deux allemands par les bras
& chantait,
chantait l'amour
sans se soucier
de monter au ciel.
Elle avait conduit les canadiens
sur un champ miné
Lą oł il y avait le Temple
de la belle Isotta
.Ils marchaient par quatre ou cinq
& j'étais folle
d'amour encore & encore
malgré mes années.
Les filles sont ainsi
dans la Romagne.
Il venait des canadiens
pour 'triompher' des allemands,
A ruļner les restes
de la ville de Rimini;
Ils demandaient le chemin
pour la Via Emilia
ą une demoiselle,
une demoiselle violée
Juste avant par la canaille
- Bon! Bon! soldats!
Celle-lą est la rue.
Allons, allon s
ą la Via Emilia! - Con loro proseguiva.
Il suo fratello aveva scavatoI buchi per le mine,
lą verso il mare.
Verso il mare la ragazza,
un po' tozza ma belle,
Condusse la truppa.
Che brava pupa! che brava pupetta!
Lei dava un vezzo
per puro amore,
che eroina!
Sfidava la morte,
Conquisto la sorte
peregrina.
Tozza un po' ma non troppo
raggiunse lo scopo.
Che splendore!All' inferno '1 nemico,
furon venti morti,
Morta la ragazza
fra quella canaglia,
Salvi i prigionieri.
Gagliardo lo spirito
della pupetta
Cantava, cantava
incantata di gioia,
Or' ora per la strada
che va verso 'l mare.
& avec eux elle avanēait.
Son frčre avait creusé
Les trous pour les mines,
lą bas vers la mer.
Vers la mer la demoiselle,
un peu ronde mais belle,
Conduisit la troupe.

La brave poupée,
quelle héroine!
Elle défiait la mort,
Elle conquit le sort
pélerin.
Rondelette un peu mais pas trop
elle atteignit le but.
Quelle splendeur!A l'enfers l'enemi,
il y eut vingt morts,
Morte la fille
parmi la canaille,
Sauvés les prisonniers.
Vaillant l'esprit
de la fillette Qui chantait,
chantait
enchantée de joie,
A l'instant mźme sur la route
qui mčne ą la mer.
Gloria della patria!
Gloria! gloriaMorir per la patria
nella Romagna!
Morti non morti son',
lo tornato son'
dal terzo cielo
per veder la Romagna,
Per veder' le montagne
nella riscossa,
Che bell' inverno!
Nel settentrion rinasce la patria
,Ma che ragazza!
che ragazze,
che ragazzi,
portan' il nero!
Gloire de la patrie! Gloire! gloire
Mourir pour la patrie
dans la Romagne!
Morts, ils ne sont pas morts,
Moi je suis revenu
du troisičme ciel
pour revoir la Romagne,
Pour revoir les montagnes
ą la
rescousse,
Que c'est beau l'hiver!
Au septentrion
renait la patrie,
Mais quelle fille!
quelles filles,
quels
garēons,
portent le noir

Canto LXXXI, Ezra Pound

Zeus lies in Ceres' bosom
Taishan is attended of loves
                    under Cythera, before sunrise
and he said: "Hay aquí mucho
catolicismo--(sounded catolithismo)
                    y muy poco reliHión"
and he said: "Yo creo que los reyes desaparecen"
(Kings will, I think, disappear)
That was Padre José Elizondo
                         in 1906 and 1917
or about 1917
          and Dolores said "Come pan, niño," "eat bread, me
lad"
Sargent had painted her
                         before he descended
(i.e., if he descended)
          but in those days he did thumb sketches,
impressions of the Velásquez in the Museo del Prado
and books cost a peseta,
               brass candlesticks in proportion,
hot wind came from the marshes
     and death-chill from the mountains.
And later Bowers wrote: "but such hatred,
     I had never conceived such"
and the London reds wouldn't show up his friends
               (i.e., friends of Franco
working in London) and in Alcázar
forty years gone, they said: "Go back to the station to eat,
you can sleep here for a peseta"
          goat bells tinkled all night
          and the hostess grinned: "Eso es luto, haw!
mi marido es muerto"
          (it is mourning, my husband is dead)
when she gave me paper of the locanda to write on
with a black border half an inch or more deep, say 5/8ths,
"We call all foreigners frenchies"
and the egg broke in Cabranez' pocket,
          thus making history.  Basil says
they beat drums for three days
till all the drumheads were busted
          (simple village fiesta)
and as for his life in the Canaries. . .
Possum observed that the local portagoose folk dance
was danced by the same dancers in divers localities
          in political welcome . . .
the technique of demonstration
          Cole studied that (not G.D.H., Horace)
"You will find" said old André Spire,
"that every man on that board (Crédit Agricole)
has a brother-in-law."
               "You the one, I the few"
               said John Adams
speaking of fears in the abstract
     to his volatile friend Mr. Jefferson,
(to break the pentameter, that was the first heave)
or as Jo Bard says: "They never speak to each other,
if it is baker and concierge visibly
          it is La Rochefoucauld and de Maintenon audibly."
"Te caveró le budella"
               "La corata a te"
In less than a geological epoch
                    said Henry Mencken
"Some cook, some do not cook,
     some things cannot be altered"

What counts is the cultural level,
     thank Benin for this table ex packing box
     "doan yu tell no one I made it"
               from a mask as fine as any in Frankfurt
"It'll get you offn th' groun"
               Light as the branch of Kuanon
And at first disappointed with shoddy
the bare ramshackle quais, but then saw the
high buggy wheels
               and was reconciled,
George Santayana arriving in the port of Boston
and kept to the end of his life that faint thethear
of the Spaniard
               as a grace quasi imperceptible,
as did Muss the v for u of Romagna,
and said the grief was a full act
          repeated for each new condoleress
working up to a climax.
And George Horace said he wd/ "get Beveridge" (Senator)
Beveridge wouldn't talk and he wouldn't write for the papers
but George got him by campin' in his hotel
and assailin' him at lunch breakfast an' dinner
               three articles
and my ole man went on hoein' corn
     while George was a-tellin' him,
come across a vacant lot
          where you'd occasionally see a wild rabbit
or mebbe only a loose one
     AOI!
     a leaf in the current
                         at my grates no Althea

LIBRETTO

Yet
Ere the season died a-cold
Borne upon a zephyr's shoulder
I rose through the aureate sky
               Lawes and Jenkins guard thy rest
               Dolmetsch ever be thy guest,
Has he tempered the viol's wood
To enforce both  the grave  and the acute?
Has he curved us the bowl of the lute?
               Lawes and Jenkins guard thy rest
               Dolmetsch ever be thy guest,
Hast 'ou fashioned so airy a mood
     To draw up leaf from the root?
Hast 'ou found  a cloud  so light
     As seemed neither mist nor shade?

               Then resolve me, tell me aright
               If Waller sang or Dowland played.

          Your eyen two wol sleye me sodenly
          I may the beauté of hem nat susteyene

And for 180 years almost nothing.

Ed ascoltando il leggier mormorio
     there came new subtlety of eyes into my tent,
whether of spirit or hypostasis,
     but what the blindfold hides
or at carneval
                    nor any pair showed anger
     Saw but the eyes and stance between the eyes,
colour, diastasis,
     careless or unaware it had not the
   whole tent's room
nor was place for the full 
interpass, penetrate
     casting but shade beyond the other lights
          sky's clear
          night's sea
          green of the mountain pool
          shone from the unmasked eyes in half-mask's space.
What thou lovest well remains,
                              the rest is dross
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage
Whose world, or mine or theirs
                         or is it of none?
First came the seen, then thus the palpable
     Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell,
What thou lovest well is thy true heritage
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee

The ant's a centaur in his dragon world.
Pull down thy vanity, it is not man
Made courage, or made order, or made grace,
     Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down.
Learn of the green world what can be thy place
In scaled invention or true artistry,
Pull down thy vanity,
                  Paquin pull down!
The green casque has outdone your elegance.

"Master thyself, then others shall thee beare"
     Pull down thy vanity
Thou art a beaten dog beneath the hail,
A swollen magpie in a fitful sun,
Half black half white
Nor knowst'ou wing from tail
Pull down thy vanity
               How mean thy hates
Fostered in falsity,
               Pull down thy vanity,
Rathe to destroy, niggard in charity,
Pull down thy vanity,
               I say pull down.

But to have done instead of not doing
               This is not vanity
To have, with decency, knocked
That a Blunt should open
          To have gathered from the air a live tradition
or from a fine old eye the unconquered flame
this is not vanity.
     Here error is all in the not done,
all in the diffidence that faltered . . .