That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds
sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love
more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere
long.

The most famous of Shakespeare’s sonnets,this one has some of the finest visual imagery one comes across in Shakespeare’s sonnets.”when yellow leaves or none or few , do hang/Upon those boughs which shake against the cold”-this is the  time of autumn when the trees are bare and shake against the cold”-a reference to the age of the poet when he passes through the stage of old age and is waiting for the sunset of his life . The “season” metaphor of the year corresponds to the poet’s lifetime with its various stages and then slowly  the poem switches to the “day” metaphor in which the poet’s life is compared to the different stages of the day(that time of day instead of that time of year).The poet is now talking about the twilight of the day and the black night which takes away the twilight.Finally the poem switches to  “the moment” when the fire glows on the ashes of his youth on the death-bed “where it must expire,consumed by that which it was nourished by”. A progression in time from the year,to the day and finally to the moment.

The dominance of the visual elements can be felt in the  use of  the words :”behold”,”yellow”,”seest”,”twilight”,”fadeth”,”black night”,”glowing”,”perceiv’st”. The image of the autumn – yellow leaves,bare boughs, birdless trees,the boughs shaking against the cold, bare ruined choirs of trees where the birds sang not long ago is a recurrent one in Shakespeare’s plays as well as poems. The sonnet is structured as 3 quatrains and two lines,each of the quatrain dealing with a different division of time-the first one with a year of time,the second one with the day ,the third one with the moment.

Spiders infest the sky.
They are palms, you say,
hung in a web of light.

Upset like water
I dive for my favourite tree
which is no longer there
though they’ve let its roots remain.

(http://india.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=2773&x=1)
© 1976, Adil Jussawalla
From: Missing Person
Publisher: Clearing House, Mumbai, 1976

1. In the first one is a beautiful image of the palm trees (which appear to you as soon as you land in the airport) ,their fronds against the setting sun looking like spiders hung in a web of light.
2. The second one has two lovely images :Garlands beheading the body meaning the heavy garlands have almost covered the head of the diseased .”Everybody dressed in white:who are we ghosts of ?” referring to the custom of the near and dear ones wearing white clothes in the funeral
3. The third one has a beautiful image “upset like water” the poet “dives” for my favourite tree. Apparently in the gloom of the funeral the poet is upset like “water”,like the stillness of the waters touched by a falling leaf. The favourite tree is no longer there,although its roots still exist. “the roots still exist” refers to the poet’s own roots in his own childhood days spent here before his exile .

(Translated from Hindi)
Father sits on other side of the table. Two moons shine in the courtyard — one red and the other yellow.
I run to reach there.
Brother sits on this side of the table.
Father has returned to this ruined house twelve years after his death. I know that the place where we are doesn’t exist.
He was not transparent before he died.
For twelve years we searched for him in the hills. He never searched for us.
He neither ate nor talked – nor was.
He has returned to his old house as if it had never been destroyed and he had never died.
I ran towards him. He towards me.
Brother vanished. Having felt father’s presence, he comes down the sky-path.
Father has already returned by the same path.
(http://india.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=10567&x=1

“Two moons shine in the courtyard-one red and the other yellow”. The moon of now and the moon of then- when father was not transparent. The place we are in does not exist and father has returned to this house as if it had never been destroyed and as if he had never died.Having felt father’s presence ,brother comes down the sky-path. But father has already returned by the same path.

The poem is all about return -return from the red moon of then to the yellow moon of now,from transparency to opacity ,from existence to non-existence and non-existence to existence.From the other side of the table to this side of the table.

You, you only, exist.
We pass away, till at last,
our passing is so immense
that you arise: beautiful moment,
in all your suddenness,
arising in love, or enchanted
in the contraction of work.

To you I belong, however time may
wear me away. From you to you
I go commanded. In between
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you
take it up and up and up: look:
all becomes festival!

Rainer Maria Rilke
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/you-you-only-exist

“You only exist/We pass away,till at last/Our passing is so immense/that you arise :beautiful moment”- the contrast here is between our transient existence and the permanence of the beautiful moment. The paradox is amusing: while we pass away , the moment exists and our passing is so immense that a beautiful moment arises. Our semi-permanent(slightly longer) existence contrasts with the brevity of the beautiful moment ,which by its definition is only a moment but exists for all time to come.

“To the beautiful moment” the poet belongs ,however much time wears him away.He moves between one beautiful moment and another. Then come the most beautiful lines of Rilke one has ever come across :

“…In between
The garland is hanging in chance: but if you
take it up and up:look:
all becomes festival!”

In between the beautiful moments,the garland is hanging in chance and it is up to you to take it up and up so that it becomes a festival. It is a matter of chance that you pick some precious moments filled with happiness and if you can do it , happiness is all yours. One of the most optimistic poems of Rilke .

There is a vertical progression between one beautiful moment and another (from you to you I go commanded).In between the garland is hanging in chance . You should take it up and up,then look (down)
:all becomes festival .

www.poems.com/poem.php?date=13843

The blast from the bees’ wings
is enough to knock the blossoms
from the wisteria, late spring
and the sexual clouds of pollen
are dissipating in the backyard.
The blooms’ purple confetti litters
the yard, the parade gone by,
and the dogwood is dropping pieces
of a letter it’s shredded,
white scraps with just a dab
of ink staining each one.
The words might have proclaimed love
or been an official notice of death.
All that can be said for sure
is that the blue torque of the sky
has tightened.

A delightful nature poem ,which appears in Today’s Poems Daily. A highly “visual” description with several subsidiary elements which reinforce the picture makes the poem a visual treat. “The blast from the bees’ wing ” which knocks the blossoms from the wisteria is a visual-dynamic image suggesting both love and destruction,the tranquillity of love with the violence of a passion. The violence continues later with the dogwood dropping shredded pieces of a love letter ,white scraps with a dab of ink staining each one. A delightful description of the words which may have been spoken proclaiming love or been an obituary statement. All that can be said for sure is that the torque of the sky has tightened .

The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.

The moment wavers first between day and night .There is then stillness, a pause. Then the moment scatters- a visual -dynamic image.The visual elements in the poem warrant a close look :”transparency” ,”circular afternoon”,”All is visible “, “shade”,”throbbing” “ghostly theatre of reflections”, “stare” ,”scatters”. A certain wistfulnes is in the air,a lightness of being.Still life with occasional dynamic images.”paper,book,pencil,glass/rest in the shades of their names” .Mark the light turns the indifferent wall into a theatre of reflections.

For all his wild hair like an aureole,
Stammer at parties, slipping from a tram,
Putting off the mending of a sole,
And putting on a mock-heroic Damn!,
He notices the spider’s intestines
Claim harlot, smuggler and blackmarketeer,
And in the clicking grin his eye divines
A moody world of artifice and fear.

Above all, this: When a woman turns
Black clouds of hair, with a rhythmic hand
Weaving their silk in the possessive sun,
He sees her common eyes stretch to a land
O lost, lost; as when repentance yearns
For hope,and love, and finds that there is none.

http://www.geocities.com/varnamala/plal.html

Of course the the poet is talking about a poet. A clumsy poet who wears his hair like an aureole,stammers at parties,slips from a tram and puts off the mending of a sole. But he is agile and observant ,noticing all those things like the spider’s intestines claiming harlot,smuggler and black marketeer .In the “clicking” grin he divines a moody world of artifice and fear.

The most beautiful part of the poem is the image that comes in the second stanza .In this the poet “sees” an exaggerated poetry in the woman’s eyes when they were just common.When the woman turns black clouds of hair ,with a rhythmic hand weaving their silk in the possessive sun,he sees her eyes stretch to a land lost ,as when repentance yearns for hope and love and finds that there is none. Delicious.The poet ,rather too quickly,divines a moody world of artifice and fear.

One wonders if the poet is having a quiet dig at our poet friend who is spinning fancy tales about the woman who is standing in the sun to comb her hair.

Translated from the Estonian by Tiina Aleman
www.wordswithoutborders.org

The sparks from your firesmoky eyes
kept the room warm for hours,
days, weeks, and months.

Neither of us tasted anything there,
did we?

Translation of “Need sädemed Su tulesuitsusilmis.” Copyright Doris Kareva. Translation copyright 2007 by Tiina Aleman. All rights reserved.

“Although it happened in another time,another film” ,the glow from her fire-smoky eyes kept the room warm for hours ,days ,months .The sparks had happened in another time and in another space. The photographic space of another film which contained the spatial situation of that time. She had captured the paradise trees on her film while he talked with the birds. Today is another film , another time,another script but the glow of the sparks from her fire-smoky eyes continues to warm the room. Together they had participated in the joint existence of the then spatial situation but neither had actually tasted the experience,per se or may be, they did.

Another interpretation could be that the sparks form her fire-smoky eyes kept the room warm for long and he recognized the glow and that feeling. When she photographed the paradise trees and he talked with the birds ,neither of them actually experienced anything or did they ? The poet probably means that the experience of the sparks from her eyes ,although it happened in another photographic space ,continued much after . But in the situation when she photographed the paradise trees and he talked with the birds ,nothing much by way of a memorable experience has actually happened.

Any number of interpretations could be placed on the meaning. The translation could perhaps have caused some confusion too. But some lovely images come along as we try to understand the the poem. ‘fire-smoky eyes” is one such usage which suggests pretty eyes full of passion hidden under swirls of smoke.”when you photographed the paradise trees and I talked with the birds” is another pretty usage employing the technique of a juxtaposition indicative of two different activities being performed by the poet and the lover.

An old woman grabs
hold of your sleeve
and tags along. .

And you are reduced
to so much small change
in her hand

http://www.geocities.com/kavitayan/arun_kolatkar.html

You look right at the sky
Clear through the bullet-holes
She has for eyes.

The old woman’s eyes are just two gaping holes filled with empty air,with the hills and the sky.Then the cracks begin around her eyes ,spreading beyond her skin and then the hills crack, the temples crack and the sky cracks and the the sky finally shatters and falls like plate-glass. The old woman herself is shatter-proof and nothing happens to her .Only you get instantly reduced to small change in her hand .It is you who shatter because her eyes are already bullet-holes which are formed with the cracks around the holes.

My hands
open the curtains of your being
clothe you in a further nudity
uncover the bodies of your body
My hands
invent another body for your body

Translation by Eliot Weinberger
http://judithpordon.tripod.com/poetry/octavio_paz_touch.html

The magic of his touch is such that it transforms her being ,uncovering the bodies of her body. Her body is not a single entity but a multiple-layered existence containing several unexplored bodies within.Her physical being comes to light as his exploring hands remove the curtains thereby flooding her inner being with exquisite light. A new body is invented ,a new life comes into being.