Exploring the Mystery of Poetry: Octavio Paz, William Blake, and William Carlos Williams, Lecture notes of Poetry

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El Poema / The Poem A Octavio Paz El poema gira sobre la cabeza de un hombre en círculos ya próximos ya alejados El hombre al descubrirlo trata de poseerlo pero el poema desaparece Con lo que el hombre puede asir hace el poema Lo que se le escapa pertenece a los hombres futuros

For Octavio Paz The poem spins over the head of a man in circles close now now far The man discovers it tries to possess it but the poem disappears The man makes his poem from whatever he can grasp That which escapes will belong to future men — Homero Aridjis (2001), translated by Eliot Weinberger The Tyger Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp, Dare its deadly terrors clasp! When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? —William Blake (1794) Next Time Ask More Questions Before jumping, remember the span of time is long and gracious. No one perches dangerously on any cliff till you reply. Is there a pouch of rain desperately thirsty people wait to drink from when you say yes or no? I don’t think so. Hold that thought. Hold everything. When they say “crucial”—well, may- be for them? Hold your horses and your minutes and your Hong Kong dollar coins in your pocket, you are not a corner or a critical turn- ing page. Wait. I’ll think about it. This pressure you share is a mis- placed hinge, a fantasy. I am exactly where I wanted to be. — Naomi Shihab Nye (2015)

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens.

— William Carlos Williams (1923)

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National Poetry Month

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Celebrate

National Poetry Month

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National Poetry Month

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