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.
Billy Collins: Som tu preto, aby som vám dal vašu odporúčanú dennú dávku poézie. A urobím to tak, že vám odprezentujem päť animácií piatich mojich básní. Najprv mi dovoľte povedať vám, ako k tomu došlo. Pretože kombinovanie týchto dvoch médií je tak trochu neprirodzené a nepotrebné.
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.
Ale keď som bol Národným básnikom Spojených štátov - milujem, keď to môžem povedať. (Smiech) Je to skvelý spôsob, ako začať vety. Keď som ním vtedy bol, oslovila ma reklamná spoločnosť J. Walter Thompson, ktorá bola svojím spôsobom najatá Sundance Channel. Išlo o to, aby som nahral niektoré moje básne a oni by potom našli animátorov, ktorí by ich zanimovali. Zo začiatku som sa tomu bránil, pretože som si vždy myslel, že poézia môže existovať sama o sebe. Pokusy zhudobniť moje básne dopadli katastrofálne vo všetkých prípadoch. A báseň, ak sa píše podľa ucha, už do svojej vlastnej verbálnej hudby zhudobnená bola, keď bola vytvorená. A iste, ak čítate báseň, v ktorej sa spomína krava, nepotrebujete mať na druhej strane obrázok kravy. Nech ten čitateľ urobí aspoň niečo sám.
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.
Ale ustúpil som, pretože to vyzeralo ako zaujímavá možnosť a taktiež som od detstva totálny maniak do kreslených filmov. Myslím, že väčší vplyv než Emily Dickinson alebo Coleridge alebo Wordsworth mali na moju predstavivosť kreslené filmy Warner Brothers, Merrie Melodies a Loony Tunes. Bugs Bunny je mojou múzou. A toto je spôsob, akým si poézia môže nájsť cestu na televízne obrazovky. V podstate som za to, aby bola poézia na verejných miestach - poézia v autobusoch, poézia v metrách, na billboardoch, na škatuliach od cereálií. Keď som bol Národným básnikom, a som znova pri tom - nedokážem si pomôcť, je to pravda - (Smiech) Vytvoril som pre Delta Airlines poetický kanál, ktorý trval niekoľko rokov. Takže keď ste leteli, mohli ste si naladiť poéziu.
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.
A mám pocit, že je dobré presunúť poéziu z políc viac do verejného života. Začnite poradu básňou. Ten nápad by ste si z nej mohli odniesť. Keď sa k vám dostane báseň na billboarde alebo v rádiu, alebo na škatuli od cereálií, alebo hociako, stane sa vám to tak zrazu, že nemáte čas nasadiť si svoj "protipoetický štít", ktorý vám bol nainštalovaný na strednej škole.
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.
Takže začnime s prvou básňou. Je to malá básnička s názvom "Budapešť," a odhaľujem v nej, alebo sa aspoň tvárim, že odhaľujem, tajomstvá kreatívneho procesu.
(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) Komentár: "Budapešť." Moje pero sa pohybuje po stránke ako rypák zvláštneho zvieraťa v tvare ľudskej ruky a oblečeného do rukáva voľného zeleného svetra. Sledujem ako nepretržite oňucháva papier, sústredené ako nejaký zberač, ktorý nemá na mysli nič len červy a hmyz, ktoré mu umožnia prežiť ďalší deň. Chce len to, aby tu bolo zajtra, možno oblečené v rukáve kockovanej košele, nos pritisnutý k papieru, píšuci pár ďalších svedomitých riadkov, zatiaľ čo ja civím von oknom a predstavujem si Budapešť alebo nejaké iné mesto, v ktorom som nikdy nebol.
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: Tam to vyznieva trochu jednoduchšie. (Potlesk) Písanie pre mňa v skutočnosti nie je také jednoduché. Ale rád predstieram, že mi to ide hravo. Raz za mnou po hodine, úvodnej hodine, prišla študentka, a povedala, "Viete, poézia je ťažšia ako próza," čo ja pokladám za mylné a dômyselné zároveň. (Smiech) Takže rád aspoň predstieram, že to ide samo. Jeden môj kamarát, tiež je básnik, má heslo. Hovorí, že "Ak na začiatku nie si úspešný, skry všetky dôkazy, že si sa snažil."
(Laughter)
(Smiech)
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.
Ďalšia báseň je tiež kratšia. Poézia len hovorí niekoľko vecí rôznymi spôsobmi. Myslím, že táto báseň by sa dala zhrnúť príslovím, "Niekedy ješ ty medveďa, inokedy medveď žerie teba." A využíva symboliku nábytku domčeka pre bábiky.
(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) Komentár: "Niekedy." Niekedy usádzam ľudí na svoje miesta pri stole, ohnem im nohy v kolenách, ak sa to dá, a usadím ich do maličkých drevených stoličiek. Celé poobedie sa pozerajú jeden na druhého, muž v hnedom obleku, žena v modrých šatách - dokonalo nehybní, dokonalo slušní. Ale inokedy som ja ten, kto je nadvihnutý za rebrá a potom položený do jedálne v domčeku pre bábiky, aby tam sedel s ostatnými pri dlhom stole. Veľmi smiešne. Ale ako by sa vám páčilo ak by ste z jedného dňa na druhý nikdy nevedeli, či ho strávite vykračujúc si ako živý boh, s ramenami v oblakoch, alebo sediac tam dolu obklopený tapetou, zízajúc rovno pred seba svojou malou umelou tvárou?
(Applause)
(Potlesk)
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: Niekde v tom sa skrýva horor. Ďalšia báseň sa volá "Zábudlivosť," a je to v podstate len taká poetická úvaha na tému mentálneho úpadku. Báseň začína istým druhom zábudlivosti, ktorý niekto nazval literárna amnézia, inými slovami, zabúdanie vecí, ktoré ste prečítali.
(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) Komentár: "Zábudlivosť." Prvé odíde meno autora, poslušne nasledované názvom, zápletkou, srdcervúcim záverom, celým románom, ktorý sa zrazu stáva tým, ktorý si nikdy neprečítal, nikdy o ňom ani nepočul. Je to akoby sa, jedna za druhou, spomienky, ktoré si zvykol prechovávať, rozhodli odísť do dôchodku do južnej mozgovej hemisféry do malej rybárskej dediny, kde nie sú žiadne telefóny. Dávno predtým si pobozkal na rozlúčku mená deviatich múz a sledoval si, ako si kvadratická rovnica balí kufor. A aj teraz, keď sa učíš poradie planét, niečo iné sa vytráca, možno kvetina štátu, strýkova adresa, hlavné mesto Paraguaja. Nech je to čokoľvek, máš problém si spomenúť, nemáš to už-už na jazyku, ani to nečíha v nejakom neznámom kúte tvojej sleziny. Odplávalo to dolu temnou mytologickou riekou, ktorej meno začína na L, pokiaľ si dobre spomínaš, na tvojej vlastnej ceste do zabudnutia, kde sa pripojíš k tým, ktorí zabudli aj to ako plávať a ako jazdiť na bicykli. Niet divu, že vstávaš uprostred noci, aby si si vyhľadal dátum známej bitky v knihe o vojne. Niet divu, že mesiac v okne sa, zdá sa, vytratil z ľúbostnej básne, ktorú si vedel naspamäť.
(Applause)
(Potlesk)
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: Ďalšia báseň sa volá "Vidiek" a je založená na tom, že keď som bol na vysokej škole, stretol som spolužiaka, ktorý zostal mojím priateľom. Žil, a stále žije, vo vidieckom Vermonte. Ja som žil v New Yorku. A zvykli sme sa navštevovať. Keď som šiel na vidiek ja, učil ma veci, ako je poľovanie na vysokú zver, čo v podstate znamená stratiť sa so zbraňou - (Smiech) a chytanie pstruhov a také veci. A potom prišiel on do New Yorku a ja som ho učil veci, ktoré som vedel ja, čo bolo prevažne fajčenie a pitie. (Smiech) A tak sme si navzájom vymieňali tradície. Nasledujúca báseň je založená na tom, ako sa mi snaží povedať niečo málo o domácom bode etikety života na vidieku, ktorý som mal zo začiatku veľký problém spracovať. Volá sa "Vidiek."
(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) Komentár: "Vidiek." Premýšľal som nad tým, ako si mi povedal, aby som nikdy nenechával škatuľku so zápalkami len tak sa povaľovať po dome, pretože by sa do nej mohli dostať myši a spôsobiť požiar. No tváril si sa celkom vážne, keď si odkrútil vrchnák okrúhlej plechovky, kde sú zápalky, ako si povedal, vždy uložené. Kto by v tú noc dokázal zaspať? Kto by dokázal zahnať myšlienku na jednu pochybnú myš cupitajúcu po vodovodnom potrubí za kvetinovou tapetou, zvierajúcu jednu drevenú zápalku medzi ihličkami jej zubov? Kto by si nepredstavoval ako zabočí za roh, modrá hlavička sa škrtne o drsný trám, náhle vzplanutie a tvor, na jeden jasný, žiarivý moment zrazu predbehol svoju dobu - teraz podpaľač, teraz nosič pochodne v zabudnutom rituáli, malý hnedý druid osvetľujúci antickú noc? A kto by si nevšimol zažnutie v planúcej izolácii, drobné výrazy údivu na tvárach ostatných myší - niekdajších obyvateľov toho, čo bolo kedysi tvojím domom na vidieku?
(Applause)
(Potlesk)
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: Ďakujem. (Potlesk) Ďakujem. Posledná báseň sa volá "Mŕtvi." Napísal som ju po pohrebe kamaráta, ale nie tak o ňom ako o niečom, čo hovorí chválorečník, tak ako zvyknú všetci chválorečníci, že aký by bol zosnulý šťastný, keby sa pozrel dolu a videl všetkých nás zúčastnených. A to mi pripadalo ako zlý začiatok posmrtného života, vidieť svoj vlastný pohreb a cítiť sa radostne. Takže táto básnička sa volá "Mŕtvi."
(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) Komentár: "Mŕtvi." Mŕtvi sa na nás zhora stále pozerajú, tvrdia. Keď si obúvame topánky alebo robíme sendvič, pozerajú sa dolu na nás skrz nebeské lode so skleneným dnom, popri tom, ako pomaly veslujú večnosťou. Sledujú vrchy našich hláv pohybujúce sa dolu na Zemi. A keď si ľahneme na poli alebo na gauči, možno zdrogovaní šumom teplého poobedia, myslia si, že sa pozeráme späť na nich, vďaka čomu dvíhajú svoje veslá a stíchnu a čakajú ako rodičia, kým nezavrieme oči.
(Applause)
(Potlesk)
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: Nie som si istý, či zvyšné básne budú zanimované. Zabralo to veľa času - myslím tým, že takéto spojenie je dosť neobvyklé - dať ich dokopy trvalo dlho. Ale na druhej strane, dlho nám trvalo dať dokopy aj koleso a kufor. (Smiech) Koleso už nejakú chvíľu máme. A vláčenie je starodávne a ctihodné umenie.
(Laughter)
(Smiech)
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."
Mám ešte čas, aby som vám prečítal moju nedávnejšiu báseň. Ak má nejakú tému, tak je ňou dospievanie. A je adresovaná určitej osobe. Volá sa "Pre moju obľúbenú 17-ročnú stredoškoláčku."
"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."
"Uvedomuješ si, že ak by si začala stavať Parthenon v deň, keď si sa narodila, za rok by si bola hotová? Pravdaže, nemohla by si to dokázať úplne sama. Takže nevadí, si skvelá taká, aká si. Si milovaná za to, že si jednoducho sama sebou. Ale vedela si, že v tvojom veku Judy Garland zarábala 150 000 dolárov za film, Johanka z Arku viedla francúzsku armádu k víťazstvu a Blaise Pascal si upratal izbu - nie počkať, chcel som povedať, že vynašiel kalkulačku? Pravdaže, na to bude v tvojom živote čas neskôr, po tom, ako vyjdeš zo svojej izby a začneš dozrievať, alebo aspoň pozbieraš všetky svoje ponožky. Z nejakého dôvodu si vždy spomeniem na to, že Lady Jane Grey bola kráľovnou Anglicka, keď mala len 15. Ale potom jej zoťali hlavu, takže nevadí, ju si za vzor neber. (Smiech) O niekoľko storočí neskôr, keď bol v tvojom veku, Franz Schubert umýval riady po rodine, ale to ho nezastavilo pred tým, aby ako mladík neskomponoval dve symfónie, štyri opery a dve kompletné omše. (Smiech) Ale pravdaže, to bolo v Rakúsku na vrchole romantickej lyriky, nie tu, na predmestí Clevelandu. (Smiech) Úprimne povedané, koho trápi, či bola Annie Oakley ostrostrelkyňa v 15, alebo či Maria Callas debutovala ako Tosca v 17? Myslíme si, že si jedinečná pre to, že si sama sebou - keď sa hráš s jedlom a civíš do neznáma. (Smiech) Mimochodom, klamal som, že Schubert umýval riad, ale to neznamená, že nikdy doma nepomáhal."
(Laughter)
(Smiech)
(Applause)
(Potlesk)
Thank you. Thank you.
Ďakujem. Ďakujem.
(Applause)
(Potlesk)
Thanks.
Vďaka.
(Applause)
(Potlesk)