More than ever I relate to these thoughts from Ezra Pound’s poetry
Here in Dalian, China and easing into the month of November I have felt the harbinger blasts of cold wind. Not the real raw winter winds of December thru March yet but lotsa wind nonetheless so here goes with Pound’s thinking on winter gales!
Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham,
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, ’tis why I am, Goddamm,
So ‘gainst the winter’s balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm,
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.
And for a fitting end:
of these faces
in the crowd:
on a wet, black
Happy Birthday, Mr. Pound.
- Happy Birthday, Ezra Pound! (oup.com)
- Translating poetry might be beyond Google – but we’ll have fun watching it try | Sam Leith (guardian.co.uk)