Blood oranges,
the sting of citrus in a fresh cut,
I am part of this:
What you see, I see –
No one else.
My foot on the treadle,
you pricked your finger on the spindle,
and your blood trickled
to the empty spaces between syllables.
Here, you became explicit.
Egoless, you shaped your world,
Pathways of hollowed-out wormwood,
the poison spoke to you,
embrace all that has ended
enter the darkness – keep moving.
Sting me blind.
Lose me in the orange grove.
Author notes
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/66326-Paul-Celan-Count
If the link isn't working - the poem is Paul Celan's "Count".
A contest entry
- Make it Yours! by alexandrathegreat.
2000 points, ended October 4, 2007, 6 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Obviously inspired by Celan, and very well constructed. I liked this ... but, I think I would have loved it more had it not quite so stringently followed Celan's 'Count'. I know, confusing aren't I?! We ask for poems inspired by others and then I say 'too closely followed'
- I guess, the beginning line "I am part of this:" felt too much like a translation of "count me in:" - if that makes sense?
A few other small similarities had be similarly concerned. I was, personally, looking for 'inspirated' more than 'translated' and ... you came close to not doing that. Fortunately, you did diverge enough in the middle that I came away liking it more than not. A good entry - all the more so for the difficult poet you chose
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I did wonder about the line between translation & 'making it my own.' I've been reading Celan closely & am intrigued by the different translations. I found it difficult to break with all of that.
I appreciate your close reading & comparison - I always appreciate honest criticism, it's hard to come by but immensely helpful.
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if I see and tell
someonelse might see it too
don't mean isn't empty space
but that's exactly the beauty of it
and the thrill
creating something from sharing the same eyes
it's not perspective
it's (re)creating reality
we only see what we know it exists
but we don't relly know nothing at all
we heard it from Paul who heard it from Bill
who heard it from Dan who swore he has seen
something just to impress Mary
feel free to reinvent what we know
imagination has no limits
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I like this piece contemporary and fresh. I like the ending leaves an innocent feeling in its wake. I'll have to read the poem you speak of before I professionally (lol) comment. EvilKate may comment on this too.
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