(no subject)

[doyle]

This is already on the sidebar of my journal but it's lovely and only thirty words long and I'm in a poetry mood.

He loved three things:
White fowls, evensong,
And antique maps of America.

He hated the crying of children,
Raspberry jam at tea,
And female hysteria.

And I was his wife.

- Anna Ahkmatova

I've seen a translation of this where the last line is "and yet he married me!" which completely alters the tone of the poem. The translation above was the first I read, and it's my favourite.

And a poem marymac introduced me to in first year - much as I love my course, some days I feel like this.

When I heard the learn'd astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.

- Walt Whitman

Comments

[viciouswishes.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry, but if you've studied Whitman in a college course and never found out he was gay ... there's something wrong with our system of education.

I agree. Though I thought it was interesting that his sexuality wasn't mentioned in my college intro to poetry class, but was mentioned in my high school english course. But than again, considering the teacher I had, maybe it wasn't that surprising.