I'm here to give you your recommended dietary allowance of poetry. And the way I'm going to do that is present to you five animations of five of my poems. And let me just tell you a little bit of how that came about. Because the mixing of those two media is a sort of unnatural or unnecessary act.
Došao sam vam dati preporučenu dnevnu dozu poezije. To ću učiniti tako da vam predstavim pet animacija za pet mojih pjesama. Ukratko ću vam ispričati kako je došlo do toga. Jer miješanje tih dvaju medija nekako je neprirodno i nepotrebno.
But when I was United States Poet Laureate -- and I love saying that. (Laughter) It's a great way to start sentences. When I was him back then, I was approached by J. Walter Thompson, the ad company, and they were hired sort of by the Sundance Channel. And the idea was to have me record some of my poems and then they would find animators to animate them. And I was initially resistant, because I always think poetry can stand alone by itself. Attempts to put my poems to music have had disastrous results, in all cases. And the poem, if it's written with the ear, already has been set to its own verbal music as it was composed. And surely, if you're reading a poem that mentions a cow, you don't need on the facing page a drawing of a cow. I mean, let's let the reader do a little work.
Kad sam bio pjesnički laureat SAD-a -- obožavam to izgovarati. (Smijeh) To je odličan način započinjanja rečenica. Kad sam tada to bio, kontaktirala me tvrtka za oglašavanje J. Walter Thompson. Radili su, recimo za televizijski program Sundance Channel. Ideja je bila da ja snimim neke svoje pjesme, a oni će pronaći animatore da ih animiraju. Isprva sam se opirao jer uvijek mislim da je poezija samodostatna. Pokušaji uglazbljivanja mojih pjesama imali su katastrofalne rezultate, svaki put. A pjesma, ako je pisana sa sluhom, već je dobila svoju verbalnu glazbu dok je sastavljana. Ako čitate pjesmu u kojoj se spominje krava, sigurno na suprotnoj stranici ne trebate crtež krave. Mislim, neka se i čitatelj malo potrudi.
But I relented because it seemed like an interesting possibility, and also I'm like a total cartoon junkie since childhood. I think more influential than Emily Dickinson or Coleridge or Wordsworth on my imagination were Warner Brothers, Merrie Melodies and Loony Tunes cartoons. Bugs Bunny is my muse. And this way poetry could find its way onto television of all places. And I'm pretty much all for poetry in public places -- poetry on buses, poetry on subways, on billboards, on cereal boxes. When I was Poet Laureate, there I go again -- I can't help it, it's true -- (Laughter) I created a poetry channel on Delta Airlines that lasted for a couple of years. So you could tune into poetry as you were flying.
No, popustio sam jer se činilo kao zanimljiva mogućnost, a i pravi sam ovisnik o crtićima od djetinjstva. Mislim da su više utjecaja nego Emily Dickinson ili Coleridge ili Wordsworth na moju maštu imali Warner Brothers, Merrie Melodies, i crtani filmovi Loony Tunes. Zekoslav Mrkva moja je muza. Na taj je način poezija mogla dospjeti čak na televiziju. A ja potpuno podržavam poeziju na javnim mjestima -- poezija u busevima, poezija u podzemnoj, na plakatima, na kutijama žitarica. Kad sam bio pjesnički laureat -- evo ga opet -- ne mogu si pomoći, istina je -- (Smijeh) Napravio sam pjesnički kanal za Delta Airlines koji je bio aktivan nekoliko godina. Mogli ste slušati poeziju dok ste letjeli.
And my sense is, it's a good thing to get poetry off the shelves and more into public life. Start a meeting with a poem. That would be an idea you might take with you. When you get a poem on a billboard or on the radio or on a cereal box or whatever, it happens to you so suddenly that you don't have time to deploy your anti-poetry deflector shields that were installed in high school.
Ja smatram da je dobro da se poezija skine s polica i više unese u javni život. Počnite sastanak pjesmom. To biste mogli upamtiti. Kad stavite pjesmu na reklamni plakat ili je pustite na radiju ili je stavite na kutiju žitarica ili kamo već, ona vam dođe tako iznenada da ne stignete aktivirati svoje štitove protiv poezije koje ste ugradili još u srednjoj školi.
So let us start with the first one. It's a little poem called "Budapest," and in it I reveal, or pretend to reveal, the secrets of the creative process.
Počnimo s prvom pjesmom. To je kratka pjesma, a zove se "Budimpešta". U njoj otkrivam, ili nastojim otkriti, tajne kreativnog procesa.
(Video) Narration: "Budapest." My pen moves along the page like the snout of a strange animal shaped like a human arm and dressed in the sleeve of a loose green sweater. I watch it sniffing the paper ceaselessly, intent as any forager that has nothing on its mind but the grubs and insects that will allow it to live another day. It wants only to be here tomorrow, dressed perhaps in the sleeve of a plaid shirt, nose pressed against the page, writing a few more dutiful lines while I gaze out the window and imagine Budapest or some other city where I have never been.
(Video) Naracija: "Budimpešta" Moje se pero kreće stranicom poput njuške neobične životinje u obliku ljudske ruke obučene u rukav širokog zelenog džempera. Gledam kako uporno njuška papir kao i bilo koji sakupljač kojemu su na umu samo ličinke i kukci od kojih će moći preživjeti još jedan dan. Želi samo biti ovdje i sutra, obučena možda u rukav karirane košulje, nosa pritisnutog uz stranicu, i ispisati još nekoliko obveznih redaka dok ja gledam kroz prozor i zamišljam Budimpeštu ili neki drugi grad u kojem nisam nikad bio.
BC: So that makes it seem a little easier. (Applause) Writing is not actually as easy as that for me. But I like to pretend that it comes with ease. One of my students came up after class, an introductory class, and she said, "You know, poetry is harder than writing," which I found both erroneous and profound. (Laughter) So I like to at least pretend it just flows out. A friend of mine has a slogan; he's another poet. He says that, "If at first you don't succeed, hide all evidence you ever tried."
BC: To malo olakšava pjesmu. (Pljesak) Pisanje mi zapravo nije tako lako, ali volim se pretvarati da mi dolazi s lakoćom. Jedna od mojih studentica došla je do mene nakon uvodnog predavanja i rekla: "Znate, poezija je teža nego pisanje", što mi se učinilo i pogrešnim i dubokim. (Smijeh) Tako da se volim barem pretvarati da samo teče. Jedan moj prijatelj ima slogan; i on je pjesnik. On kaže da "ako ne uspiješ od prve, sakrij sve dokaze da si uopće pokušao."
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
The next poem is also rather short. Poetry just says a few things in different ways. And I think you could boil this poem down to saying, "Some days you eat the bear, other days the bear eats you." And it uses the imagery of dollhouse furniture.
Sljedeća je pjesma također prilično kratka. Poezija samo kaže neke stvari na drugačiji način. Mislim da bi se ova pjesma mogla svesti na: "Ponekad ti pojedeš medvjeda, ponekad medvjed pojede tebe." U pjesmi koristim slike namještaja iz kućice za lutke.
(Video) Narration: "Some Days." Some days I put the people in their places at the table, bend their legs at the knees, if they come with that feature, and fix them into the tiny wooden chairs. All afternoon they face one another, the man in the brown suit, the woman in the blue dress -- perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved. But other days I am the one who is lifted up by the ribs then lowered into the dining room of a dollhouse to sit with the others at the long table. Very funny. But how would you like it if you never knew from one day to the next if you were going to spend it striding around like a vivid god, your shoulders in the clouds, or sitting down there amidst the wallpaper staring straight ahead with your little plastic face?
(Video) Naracija: "Ponekad" Ponekad stavljam ljude na njihova mjesta za stolom, savijam im noge u koljenima, ako su tako napravljeni, i smještam ih na malene drvene stolice. Cijelo poslijepodne gledaju jedni druge, čovjek u smeđem odijelu, žena u plavoj haljini -- potpuno nepokretni, savršeno pristojni. No drugih dana ja sam taj kojeg primaju pod rebra i podižu i zatim spuštaju u blagovaonicu kuće za lutke kako bih sjedio s drugima za dugim stolom. Jako smiješno. No kako bi se vama svidjelo da vam je svaki dan neizvjesno hoćete li ga provesti koračajući uokolo poput živopisnog boga, s ramenima u oblacima, ili sjedeći ovdje dolje okružen tapetama pogleda uperenog pred sebe na malenom plastičnom licu?
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
BC: There's a horror movie in there somewhere. The next poem is called forgetfulness, and it's really just a kind of poetic essay on the subject of mental slippage. And the poem begins with a certain species of forgetfulness that someone called literary amnesia, in other words, forgetting the things that you have read.
BC: Materijal za horor film. Sljedeća se pjesma zove "Zaboravnost" i zapravo je poetski esej na temu mentalnog opadanja. Pjesma počinje određenom vrstom zaboravnosti koju je netko nazvao literarnom amnezijom, odnosno zaboravljanjem stvari koje ste pročitali.
(Video) Narration: "Forgetfulness." The name of the author is the first to go, followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel, which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of. It is as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain to a little fishing village where there are no phones. Long ago, you kissed the names of the nine muses good-bye and you watched the quadratic equation pack its bag. And even now, as you memorize the order of the planets, something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps, the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay. Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. It has floated away down a dark mythological river whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall, well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those who have forgotten even how to swim and how to ride a bicycle. No wonder you rise in the middle of the night to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. No wonder the Moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
(Video) Naracija: "Zaboravnost" Prvo ode ime autora, a nakon njega poslušno slijede naslov, radnja, srcedrapajući rasplet, cijeli roman, koji odjednom niste pročitali, nikad ni čuli za njega. Kao da su, jedno po jedno, sjećanja koja ste njegovali odlučila povući se na južnu polutku mozga u malo ribarsko selo gdje nema telefona. Još ste se davno pozdravili s imenima devet muza i gledali ste kako kvadratna jednadžba pakira kofere. I upravo sada, dok pamtite poredak planeta, nešto drugo iščezava, možda cvijet-simbol države, ujakova adresa, glavni grad Paragvaja. Čega god da se pokušavate sjetiti, nije vam na vrhu jezika, niti se skriva u nekom mračnom kutku vaše slezene. Odavno je otplutalo tamnom mitološkom rijekom čije ime počinje na L, koliko se sjećate, dobrano na putu prema zaboravu, gdje ćete se pridružiti onima koji su zaboravili čak i plivati i voziti bicikl. Nije ni čudo da ustajete usred noći da biste potražili datum slavne bitke u nekoj knjizi o ratu. Nije ni čudo da se čini da je Mjesec na prozoru isplivao iz ljubavne pjesme koju ste nekad znali napamet.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
BC: The next poem is called "The Country" and it's based on, when I was in college I met a classmate who remains to be a friend of mine. He lived, and still does, in rural Vermont. I lived in New York City. And we would visit each other. And when I would go up to the country, he would teach me things like deer hunting, which meant getting lost with a gun basically -- (Laughter) and trout fishing and stuff like that. And then he'd come down to New York City and I'd teach him what I knew, which was largely smoking and drinking. (Laughter) And in that way we traded lore with each other. The poem that's coming up is based on him trying to tell me a little something about a domestic point of etiquette in country living that I had a very hard time, at first, processing. It's called "The Country."
BC: Sljedeća se pjesma zove "Selo" i nastala je kad sam studirao i upoznao kolegu koji mi je i danas prijatelj. Živio je i još uvijek živi na selu u Vermontu. Ja sam živio u New Yorku. Posjećivali bismo jedan drugog. Kad bih ja dolazio na selo, učio me stvarima poput lova na jelene, što je u biti značilo imati pušku i izgubiti se -- (Smijeh) i pecanja pastrva i takvih stvari. Onda bi on dolazio u New York i ja bih ga učio onome što sam znao, što je većinom bilo pušiti i piti. (Smijeh) Tako smo razmjenjivali znanja. Sljedeća pjesma govori kako mi je on pokušao objasniti ponešto o bontonu u domaćinstvu na selu, a što je meni isprva bilo vrlo teško razumjeti. Pjesma se zove "Selo".
(Video) Narration: "The Country." I wondered about you when you told me never to leave a box of wooden strike-anywhere matches just lying around the house, because the mice might get into them and start a fire. But your face was absolutely straight when you twisted the lid down on the round tin where the matches, you said, are always stowed. Who could sleep that night? Who could whisk away the thought of the one unlikely mouse padding along a cold water pipe behind the floral wallpaper, gripping a single wooden match between the needles of his teeth? Who could not see him rounding a corner, the blue tip scratching against rough-hewn beam, the sudden flare and the creature, for one bright, shining moment, suddenly thrust ahead of his time -- now a fire-starter, now a torch-bearer in a forgotten ritual, little brown druid illuminating some ancient night? And who could fail to notice, lit up in the blazing insulation, the tiny looks of wonderment on the faces of his fellow mice -- one-time inhabitants of what once was your house in the country?
(Video) Naracija: "Selo" Čudio sam ti se kad si mi rekao da nikako ne ostavljam kutiju drvenih šibica bilo gdje u kući jer bi miševi mogli ući u nju zapaliti vatru. Ali tvoje je lice bilo potpuno ozbiljno kad si izravnao poklopac okrugle limenke u koju se, rekao si, šibice uvijek spremaju. Tko bi te noći mogao spavati? Tko bi se mogao otresti pomisli na malo vjerojatnog miša kako hodi po hladnoj cijevi za vodu iza cvjetnih tapeta, hvata jednu drvenu šibicu između oštrih prednjih zuba? Tko ga ne bi vidio kako zamiče za ugao, plavim vrhom šibice zagrebe o hrapavu gredu, iznenadni plamsaj i taj stvor, na jedan sjajan, blješteći trenutak, odjednom gurnut ispred svog vremena -- sad je zapalio iskru, sad je lučonoša u zaboravljenom obredu, mali smeđi druid koji osvjetljava neku davnu noć? Tko ne bi primijetio, osvijetljene u plamtećoj izolaciji, sitne začuđene poglede na licima njegovih mišjih drugova -- nekadašnjih stanovnika onoga što je nekad bila tvoja kuća na selu?
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
BC: Thank you. (Applause) Thank you. And the last poem is called "The Dead." I wrote this after a friend's funeral, but not so much about the friend as something the eulogist kept saying, as all eulogists tend to do, which is how happy the deceased would be to look down and see all of us assembled. And that to me was a bad start to the afterlife, having to witness your own funeral and feel gratified. So the little poem is called "The Dead."
BC: Hvala. (Pljesak) Hvala. Posljednja se pjesma zove "Mrtvi". Napisao sam je nakon prijateljeva sprovoda, ali nije toliko o mojem prijatelju, koliko nešto što eulozi stalno govore, kao i svi eulozi, a to je kako bi sretan preminuli bio da nas sad gleda i vidi kako smo se okupili. Meni se to činilo kao loš početak zagrobnog života, da moraš gledati vlastiti sprovod i osjećati neko zadovoljstvo. Naslov pjesme je, dakle, "Mrtvi".
(Video) Narration: "The Dead." The dead are always looking down on us, they say. While we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich, they are looking down through the glass-bottom boats of heaven as they row themselves slowly through eternity. They watch the tops of our heads moving below on Earth. And when we lie down in a field or on a couch, drugged perhaps by the hum of a warm afternoon, they think we are looking back at them, which makes them lift their oars and fall silent and wait like parents for us to close our eyes.
(Video) Naracija: "Mrtvi" Mrtvi nas uvijek gledaju s visina, kažu. Dok obuvamo cipele ili radimo sendvič, gledaju nas kroz stakleno dno nebeskih čamaca dok polako veslaju kroz vječnost. Gledaju nam tjemena kako se kreću po Zemlji. A kad legnemo na polju ili na kauč, možda omamljeni šumom toplog poslijepodneva, oni misle kako i mi gledamo njih pa podignu vesla i utihnu i čekaju poput roditelja da zatvorimo oči.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
BC: I'm not sure if other poems will be animated. It took a long time -- I mean, it's rather uncommon to have this marriage -- a long time to put those two together. But then again, it took us a long time to put the wheel and the suitcase together. (Laughter) I mean, we had the wheel for some time. And schlepping is an ancient and honorable art.
BC: Nisam siguran hoće li druge pjesme biti animirane. Dugo je trajalo -- mislim, prilično je neobičan taj spoj -- dugo je trebalo da se to dvoje spoji. A opet, dugo nam je trebalo i da spojimo kotač i kovčeg. (Smijeh) Mislim, kotač smo imali već dulje vrijeme. A vučenje je drevno i časno umijeće.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
I just have time to read a more recent poem to you. If it has a subject, the subject is adolescence. And it's addressed to a certain person. It's called "To My Favorite 17-Year-Old High School Girl."
Imam još vremena pročitati vam jednu noviju pjesmu. Ako se može reći da ima temu, onda bi to bila adolescencija. Pjesma se obraća određenoj osobi. Zove se "Mojoj najdražoj 17-godišnjoj srednjoškolki".
"Do you realize that if you had started building the Parthenon on the day you were born, you would be all done in only one more year? Of course, you couldn't have done that all alone. So never mind; you're fine just being yourself. You're loved for just being you. But did you know that at your age Judy Garland was pulling down 150,000 dollars a picture, Joan of Arc was leading the French army to victory and Blaise Pascal had cleaned up his room -- no wait, I mean he had invented the calculator? Of course, there will be time for all that later in your life, after you come out of your room and begin to blossom, or at least pick up all your socks. For some reason I keep remembering that Lady Jane Grey was queen of England when she was only 15. But then she was beheaded, so never mind her as a role model. (Laughter) A few centuries later, when he was your age, Franz Schubert was doing the dishes for his family, but that did not keep him from composing two symphonies, four operas and two complete masses as a youngster. (Laughter) But of course, that was in Austria at the height of Romantic lyricism, not here in the suburbs of Cleveland. (Laughter) Frankly, who cares if Annie Oakley was a crack shot at 15 or if Maria Callas debuted as Tosca at 17? We think you're special just being you -- playing with your food and staring into space. (Laughter) By the way, I lied about Schubert doing the dishes, but that doesn't mean he never helped out around the house."
"Jesi li svjesna da, da si počela graditi Partenon onog dana kad si se rodila, bila bi gotova za još samo jednu godinu? Naravno, ne bi to mogla učiniti sama. Zato nema veze, dobra si takva kakva jesi. Voljena si zato što si ti. Ali jesi li znala da je u tvojoj dobi Judy Garland zarađivala 150.000 dolara po filmu, Ivana Orleanska vodila je francusku vojsku u pobjedu i Blaise Pascal je počistio svoju sobu -- ne, čekaj, htio sam reći da je izumio kalkulator. Naravno, bit će vremena za sve to kasnije u tvojem životu, nakon što iziđeš iz sobe i procvjetaš, ili barem pokupiš sve čarape s poda. Iz nekog se razloga sjećam da je Lady Jane Grey bila kraljica Engleske kad je imala samo 15 godina. Ali kasnije su joj odrubili glavu pa je ne trebaš smatrati uzorom. (Smijeh) Nekoliko stoljeća kasnije, kad je bio tvoje dobi, Franz Schubert prao je posuđe kod kuće, ali to ga nije spriječilo da sklada dvije simfonije, četiri opere i dvije potpune mise dok je bio mladić. (Smijeh) Ali naravno, to je bilo u Austriji na vrhuncu romantičkog lirizma, a ne ovdje u predgrađu Clevelanda. (Smijeh) Iskreno, koga briga što je Annie Oakley bila vrhunski strijelac s 15 godina ili što je Maria Callas glumila Toscu sa 17? Mi mislimo da si posebna takva kakva jesi -- dok se igraš hranom i zuriš u prazno. (Smijeh) Inače, lagao sam ono za Schuberta i pranje posuđa, ali to ne znači da nikad nije pomagao po kući.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Thank you. Thank you.
Hvala.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Thanks.
Hvala.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)