THE POEM BOOK

JOSE RIZAL, UGO FOSCOLO, & PITIKA NTULI          

**************************************************************

the three poems we have chosen today are not so hot -or two aren't and one is, or its mostly that one stanza in the one. they are about heritage and read by many. 

JOSE RIZAL
A Poem That Has No Title

To my Creator I sing
Who did soothe me in my great loss;
To the Merciful and Kind
Who in my troubles gave me repose.

Thou with that pow’r of thine
Said: Live! And with life myself I found;
And shelter gave me thou
And a soul impelled to the good
Like a compass whose point to the North is bound.

Thou did make me descend
From honorable home and respectable stock,
And a homeland thou gavest me
Without limit, fair and rich
Though fortune and prudence it does lack.

__________ 

TPB's notes: like us here at TPB, josé rival earned his bachelors whilst still in his teens; unlike us, rizal had a country: the philippines. we have placed this poem here to show that we don't always post poems we particularly enjoy. many of such poems are easily 'national' poems attributed a particular group through their adoration of writer/figure, who is often indeed 'national' by dint of political or other such position and connections (many often hold ministerial positions or are diplomats). the small handful of poems we've read so far of josé rival poems are nationalist 'poem for country' sort. he wrote during the spanish colonial era and was "an advocate of national reforms" away from colonial hold. for this, the philippines consider him a national hero. sensing that he may have written most of his poetry in his native tagalog as well, in vain we've tried to find the tagalog version of the poem above in order to translate it using, err, google translate (line by line and with intuition). the language in the poem being unnecessarily archaic.
/TPB

_____________________

UGO FOSCOLO
To Zakynthos

Né più mai toccherò le sacre sponde
ove il mio corpo fanciulletto giacque,
Zacinto mia, che te specchi nell’onde
del greco mar da cui vergine nacque

Venere, e fea quelle isole feconde
col suo primo sorriso, onde non tacque
le tue limpide nubi e le tue fronde
l’inclito verso di colui che l’acque

cantò fatali, ed il diverso esiglio
per cui bello di fama e di sventura
baciò la sua petrosa Itaca Ulisse.

Tu non altro che il canto avrai del figlio,
o materna mia terra; a noi prescrisse
il fato illacrimata sepoltura.

----

Never will I touch your sacred shore again
where my young form reclined at rest,
Zakynthos, regarding yourself in waves
of the Greek sea, where Venus was

virgin born, and made those islands bloom
with her first smile; nor did he bypass
your lacy clouds and leafy fronds
in glorious verse, the one who sang

of fatal seas, and of the broad exile
after which, exalted by fame and by adventure,
Ulysses kissed his rocky native Ithaca.

You will have nothing of your son but his song,
motherland of mine: and our fate already
written, the unmourned grave.

Translated by Nick Benson

______ 

TPB's notes: we put this poem here to show that translations don't have to be in archaic language or about second guessing the era and mode of address of the poet's particular society and time (we think this might have been the case in the other post today of the josé rival poem, if in fact that poem is a translation from the tagalog). according to 'research', ugo foscolo was born in zakynthos, an island in greece. in this poem, he calls zakynthos "motherland" but he had the sense to write about it in the italian. he clearly had a country: italy, land of birth regardless, and is (or considered himself?) 'an italian poet'. 

last summer italians threw bananas at an italian-born politician of camerounian heritage.

_____________________

PITIKA NTULI 
In my Country

In my country
They always ask me why
I have such a long tongue
What with the system stretching it
Every day
Searching for words under it

They always ask me why we have
Such long ears
What with us compelled to
Listen to nuances
For survival

They always ask why we smile
Even in grief
What with our absolute conviction
That we shall deliver ourselves
From their clutches

2
In my country they jail you
For what they think you think
My uncle once said to me
They’ll implant a micro-chip in our minds
To flash our thoughts and dreams
Onto a screen at John Vorster square

I was scared
By day I guard my tongue
By night
My dreams

3.
In my country
Our war begins when we try
To drink the cauldron of sunset
With our bruised eyes
Hands tied to our backs
Tongues sliced at the root

Our words one with the wind
Raw material of sounds
We hear echoes before
Thoughts are uttered
Carve answers before
Words strike the eardrum
Our poems coming
In waves of whispers

4
In my country they say…..
When you see youth
Roll a tyre from Firestone, India or Pirelli
Down the road
And the urge to follow
Seizes you
You may still be with the people

And when you offer you a match
And dance around the flames and smoke
You are the people

But when
In my country
You see eleven year olds
Rolling a tyre from Michelin, Uniroyal or Dunlop
Down the street
And an urge to blaze
Across the street and houses seizes you
Know
You are no longer with the people

5.
In my country
I pointed my finger at the
Passing convoy of death
A moveable feast of metal armour
They cut off my finger

With my dripping blood
I wrote a poem of hope
Painted the sunset of their death

They chained me to a wall
In my cell
I put my lips on every link
In the chain
Whispered my dreams
Every link a poem……
And we will have a Goodyear
Of resistance!

___________

TPB's notes: we just found this today. source: Ntuli, P 2011, ‘21st Medellin Poetry Festival, July 2011’, www.pitikantuli.com/site/artwork/poems/in_my_country/
popular excerpts from the poem above is: 

In my country they jail you for what they think you think./My uncle once said to me:/they’ll implant a microchip/in our minds/to flash our thoughts and dreams on to a screen at John Vorster Square.I was scared/by day I guard my tongue/by night my dreams.