Heading down to ZMM tomorrow to a retreat with writer / translator David Hinton. I’m feeling increasingly like one of those old recluse poets like Han Shan. His name means Cold Mountain in Chinese. I’m thinking of taking the name Cold River, or Sông Lạnh in Vietnamese.
Found this recording of David Rakowski’s setting of my poem “For Wittgenstein” on You Tube. I received a copy of the CD when it came out, but I’m happy to see it out on the web. It would be nice if whoever posted it had given credit to the author of the text: “For Wittgenstein” is the final poem in my book Magical Thinking (2001), an over-determined triolet written specifically for Rakowski.
Days are like grass the wind moves over:
first the wind & then the silence–
what cannot be said we must pass over
in silence, or play some music over
in our heads. Silently, a wind goes over
(we know from the motion of the grass).
Days are like grass; the wind goes over:
first the wind & then the silence.
There are a lot of performances of Rakowski’s music–mostly for piano–on You Tube. I loved his etude “Fists of Fury,” especially the middle section played at the high end of the piano that sounds like the first message arriving from an alien civilization.
Che Fece . . . Il Gran Rifiuto
For certain people there comes a day
when they are called upon to say the great Yes
or the great No. It’s clear at once who has
the Yes within him at the ready, which he will say
as he advances in honor, in greater self-belief.
He who refuses has no second thoughts. Asked
again, he would repeat the No. And nonetheless
that No–so right–defeats him all his life.
–C.P. Cavafy [Trans. Daniel Mendelsohn]