After completing this final act of Hamlet, I was slightly disappointed with the outcome of the play: death. That’s basically it, everyone dies. However, it seems as though Claudius’ murderous wrong-doings will finally be revealed to the people of Denmark! 

The act begins with the ‘clowns’ and Hamlet digging a grave in the ground for someone. The thing is, Hamlet doesn’t realize it’s for his love, Ophelia! And during this digging, Hamlet learns a little about himself, since the clowns don’t realize he is Hamlet. A little comedy added to such a dreary scene, with even more tragedy to come. And from this dreary scene, comes the passionate duel between Laertes. Back and forth they go, battling for their honor and revenge, Hamlet strikes Laertes twice, and seems to be winning. Of course this can’t be a normal bout, King Claudius just had to mettle things up again, by poisoning Hamlet’s drink. HA! Too bad for that old bat, his ‘stolen’ wife, Gertrude ends up drinking the poisoned drink that was meant for Hamlet’s lips. Uh oh! Hamlet and Laertes are both wounded, then Gertrude falls down to the ground with her last words:

No, no! the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet!

The drink, the drink! I am poisoned.

Way to go Claudius, kill your own wife, the wife you killed your own brother to marry! Laertes, almost dead, proclaims to Hamlet that he is not upset with him, and that it is all the king’s fault. This then angers Hamlet, who then stabs King Claudius (really, it’s about time), who dies (in an unholy manner= he’s not going up, he’s going down!). Laertes and Hamlet exchange forgiveness (how cute), and sadly Laertes then falls to his death. Hamlet, terribly wounded, asks Horatio to tell all of what has happened, and to restore Denmark to it’s greatness. Fortinbras and soldiers begin to march in, and Hamlet, unable to hear the news from England, dies. Horatio tells Fortinbras of Hamlet’s honor and bravery, and it is decided that he deserves a royal passage to death. So, it seems that Hamlet has somehow gotten revenge on behalf of his slain father, sadly he is unable to experience the happiness. The Tragedy of Hamlet, seems to be a very fitting title for this play, considering everyone dies in the end. (final death count: seven: King Hamlet, Polonius, Ophelia, Gertrude, King Claudius, Laertes, Hamlet)

 

 

Act four for me was slightly dull and boring. However, a few things did occur during this act. First off, we have Hamlet getting sent away to England for his madness and his murder of Polonius (what a drag). Hamlet has hidden Polonius’ body somewhere in the city… Did the two goons ever find it? What’s going to happen with the whole murder-situation?

Luckily, some pirates took Hamlet prisoner and he is somehow returning to Denmark for some more mischief I’d imagine. Laertes has also returned from his travels, but with a strange new goal of taking the throne from Claudius? Huh? This part was sort of confusing to me. Laertes is extremely angry with the news that Hamlet murdered his father, and Ophelia is completely out of sorts (nothing new) with her father’s death. Can’t these guys catch a break! The bulk of the act just seemed to drag on for me, with nothing very exciting occurring. But then, a little action, we found out that Ophelia has gone and drowned in the river! This raises some suspicion:

Was Ophelia trying to kill herself?

Was it an accident?

Was there anyone who witnessed it? If yes, why did no one help her?

And if there wasn’t a witness (who should have saved her) then how did Gertrude know the detailed story?

Hmm… sounds even more suspicious!

That’s pretty much all that happened, nothing too special in my opinion. My hope that Ophelia and Hamlet would fix their relationship is pretty much done, considering she’s dead now. Hopefully some of the suspicious questions will be answered in the final act of the play… 

 

Personally, I really enjoyed act three of the play. There was so much action and confrontation, it kept me very focused on reading! However, the confrontation between Hamlet and Ophelia really bothered me. Hamlet acted pretty rude and mean towards Ophelia, and I didn’t like it. I have been on Hamlet’s side for most of the play and seeing him treat her so awfully made me mad. But I do have to look at it from his perspective, with all the crazy things going on with him right now (father’s murder, mother’s marriage, stolen role as king, seeking revenge, the play) I can see why he might have an outburst at Ophelia, a female (linking back to his anger with his mother). I hope that things will work out for them later on in the play, hopefully Hamlet will realize what a jerk he was and will mend their relationship. 

Now, for the meat of the act, Hamlet’s play of revenge! I was happy to see that he was finally taking action against Claudius, and it is obvious from Claudius’ reaction that he DID murder his brother. Ah ha! And Gertrude seemed to be affected by the play also, especially the part where the King and Queen recite these lines:

Player King: Out thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:

So think thou wilt no second husband wed;

But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

Player Queen: Meet what I would have well and it destroy!

Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,

If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

(Lines from http://shakespeare.mit.edu/hamlet/full.html)

Gertrude and Claudius seemed very uncomfortable and tense during this part of Hamlet’s play, maybe because it directly relates to their hasty marriage, and Hamlet’s feelings that his mother should not have married after her husband’s death. Hamlet had Horatio were both watching for a sign from Claudius that he was guilty (thus my title: Guilty Detection), and they SURE got it! Claudius stopped the play and demanded the lights to be turned on. Hamlet definitely got the evidence he needed to prove that the ghost was telling the truth. We then read a soliloquy from Claudius, in which he finally admits to his murderous act:

King Claudius: What if this cursed hand

Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood,

Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens

To wash it white as snow?

[...] ‘Forgive me my foul murder’?

That cannot be; since I am still possess’d

Of those effects for which I did the murder,

My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.

(Lines from http://shakespeare.mit.edu/hamlet/full.html)

Claudius shows that he is guilty for killing his brother, but then says that he cannot fix it or be forgiven because he is happy that he did it, because he got his queen and his crown! I just cannot stand this character!

OH NO! Then Hamlet goes to talk with his mother, and Polonius stupidly gets caught listening in, and BOOM, Hamlet turns around and kills him. I little impulsive on Hamlet’s part? And what will happen between him and Ophelia now, considering he just killed her father? Hamlet is digging himself into a hole. 

But then he is finally able to get through to his mother, and explains that he isn’t mad! She seems to believe him and says she will not go back to Claudius’ bed. Then something funny happens, and ghost appears, but Gertrude is unable to see or hear him. This act has left me with a lot of questions:

Why can’t Gertrude see or hear the ghost?

How come only Hamlet and the guards were able to see him? 

Will Hamlet go to England?

Will He get in trouble for killing Polonius?

Will Gertrude listen to Hamlet or will she return to Claudius?

Is Ophelia going to forgive Hamlet for killing her father?

 

 

Act two of Hamlet was yet again rather chaotic! Poor old Polonius just had to stir things up when he told Ophelia to stay away from the distraught Hamlet. Considering that Hamlet has been betrayed by his family (Claudius and his mother, Gertrude), Ophelia seemed to be all he had going for him, but then Polonius had to go and take that away, too! Man, can’t Hamlet get a break! And now everyone believes him to have lost his mind, and think he is running around like a mad man. This brings up an important question: Is Hamlet’s madness all an act? Or has he really flown the coop? Hopefully this question will be answered further along in the play. It seems to me that Hamlet isn’t the only character acting totally mad. Everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off, especially little ‘green girl’ (quoted by Polonius) Ophelia. Ever since Polonius told her that Hamlet was to high up for her, and that she needed to stay away, she seems to constantly be on an emotional roller coaster! And then, Polonius finally realizes his mistake (a little too late) and believes that Hamlet really does love Ophelia. Good one Polonius, let’s stir the pot a little bit more! Polonius seriously needs to clean up the mess he has made, then maybe all the madness will tone down some. Personally, I am a fan of the Hamlet/Ophelia relationship, I think it will help Hamlet to cope with the tragedy of his father’s murder (way to go Claudius), his mother’s unreasonable and hasty marriage (once again, way to go Claudius), and his basically-stolen role as the new king (Claudius is just clearing him out!). Maybe, if Polonius does fix things up, Ophelia can aid Hamlet on his newfound quest for redemption and revenge against the new king, Claudius! I’m excited!

After reading the first act of Hamlet, I couldn’t help but be quite upset with the character of Hamlet’s uncle, King Claudius. One of the beginning scenes (when Queen Gertrude and Claudius get married) seemed very fishy, especially considering how quickly their marriage occurred after the late king’s funeral. At one point, Hamlet even addresses the fact that the two events were so closely occurring that the leftover food from his father’s funeral could be served at the wedding reception. Also seeming very fishy is how Claudius treats Hamlet. He speaks to him without very much respect AND why is it that Claudius is the new king, shouldn’t Hamlet (the PRINCE and SON of the late king) be the next heir inline for the throne? I think yes, but apparently something very wishy washy is going on in this family. 

My suspicions were proven correct near the end of act one, when Hamlet is approached by the eery apparition in the courtyard. We eventually find out that King Hamlet was killed by the hand of his own kin, his brother Claudius (uncle to Prince Hamlet) while resting in the garden. AH HA! I knew that something fishy was going on! So this new change of plot brings some questions:

What motive did Claudius have for killing his own brother? (JEALOUSY…)

Why was no one able to figure out King Hamlet was murdered?

Did anyone see this murderous act go down? Any witnesses?

How did Claudius wiggle his way into the throne? 

Gertrude… What’s going on with her? Why is she so quick to remarry her dead husband’s brother?

Is Hamlet going to act on this new lead?

We’ll just have to see how things play out in the next act.

Octavio’s poetry is all in Spanish, but for this assignment I am going to write a poem in English!


Resounding Waves

The waves move forward,

and the waves move back.

Each one pausing,

allowing the next wave to follow.

My mind moves forward,

with the waves.

My mind moves back,

with the waves.

The depths of the ocean, 

evoke my thoughts and wanderings.

I am the ocean,

and the ocean is me. 

As one, we move forward,

and as one we move back.

Together we create the

resounding waves.

 

Although pretty shabby, I think my ‘imitation poem’ incorporates many of Paz’s poetic techniques. My poem is based on a natural setting: the ocean and it’s waves, while also incorporating Paz’s ideology of nature’s importance to the mind, body, and soul. The structure of my poem is also very similar to most of Paz’s poetry; it is very simple, yet still involves imagery, my word choice is concise and to the point, and it is pretty free verse, with no definite grouping of lines in stanzas, just like Paz’s poetry. There is also a sense of surrealism or magic, as I describe the mind as waves in the ocean. 

 

Overall, I liked this blogging project. It was fun to do something new, and to organize research in a new way. I was cool getting to see how the other students in our class were doing, and how they designed and organized their information. I also liked being able to comment on other student’s and bloggers posts, because it helped me support my own posts and analyses. However, it did get frustrating when I couldn’t find other people in the ‘blogosphere’ who related back to my poet. And I also got frustrated sometimes with the short time we had for some of the assignments. For the research paper it seemed like we got a lot more time for each part of the project, and I think more time for each assignment for this project would be helpful! But overall, I am glad we got to do this blog-project, and it was pretty fun!

 

Poet Blog Comments

Comment #1

http://katiesegr1.edublogs.org/2009/03/18/frederick-douglass/#comments

Comment #2

http://transpersonalstuff.org/mindfulness/?p=47&cpage=1#comment-3

Comment #3

http://maddieegr1.edublogs.org/2009/03/25/adrienne-rich-and-ezra-pound/#comment-12

Comment #4

http://staceyegr1.edublogs.org/2009/03/26/when-i-say-interyou-say-textuality/#comment-7

Comment #5

http://mackenzieegr5.edublogs.org/2009/03/23/richard-wilbur-and-robert-frost/#comment-12

 

I couldn’t find any more blogs relating to my poet to comment on; they were all in Spanish!

The relationship between André Breton and Octavio Paz is a give and take type relationship, as both poets influenced and were influenced by each other. Both poets were part of the surrealism movement; Breton has even been considered ‘the pope’ of the movement.

The following is a quote from Paz, on Breton and his poetry:

“It is impossible to speak of André Breton in a language that is not that of passion.” This testifies to the great force of Breton’s ideas and to their undiminished capacity for provoking heated controversy.

Paz looked to Breton’s surrealist movement in Latin America, as a turning point in poetry. 

In Paz’s words, Breton “made no distinction between magic and poetry”. In important ways, Paz’s poetry also points to such a new, magical reality. But this does not simply happen with a figurative wave of the wand [...] One of Paz’s concerns has been the problem of language-an inability to control words and their function. 

Both poets perceived poetry as a form of magic, that allowed a poet to use language and words to explore the universe. The following excerpt from Paz’s poem Palabra (Word) reveals a strong similarity to Bretons own poetry: 

Word, exact voice

but still ambiguous;

dark and luminous 

wound and source: mirror;

mirror and brightness

brightness and blade,

a live and loved blade,

no longer a blade but a smooth hand: fruit. 

The first two lines do two things: they establish a contradictory attitude toward the word, or the concept of the word, and they begin a series of explicit contradictions, or antinomies. The use of antinomies, of course, is a frequent device of André Breton’s writing. Most of them here are apostrophes or metaphors for the title, “Word”.

The relationship between Breton and Paz is a special one, especially considering the age difference between them. They represented two different cultural universes, however, this relationship blossomed into a ‘grandfather/grandson’ type relationship, with Breton playing the role of a wise advisor. 

In many old societies they are the grandparents who initiate the young people of the tribe. And in our contemporary cultural means from time to time that happens. The coexistence of revolt and tradition is possible thanks to the bond of grandfathers and grandsons.

Paz was astounded by Breton and his poetry, and was shocked when Breton complimented his poetry during a poem reading in France. Breton thought Paz was so talented, that he even asked for Paz to collaborate with him on a new book:

Many years later, for the writing of his book The Magical Art, Bretón would consult Paz and would take into account his opinions; this demonstrates the correspondence between them.

Everything that separates them, unites them: the abyss becomes bridge. Breton would be near Paz for the last time in 1964, two years before dying, when Paz Marries Marie Jose. An encounter that the pair lives then, like a spontaneous and magical surrealist act, like a crazy love.

Breton influenced Paz’s poetry immensely, through subject matter, theme, structure, and styling. They both acted as magicians, with their pencils as magic wands. 

Breton helped Paz to name many of the things and concepts that inhabit their world. Still more, Breton aided him frequently, not only to name the world, to describe it, to include and understand it, but also to create it again in the words. He is not the unique one. But he is there, peacefully with his glance of wild ghost clear eyes, with his attitude between the battle and the astonished contemplation of the world and its poetry.

Although Breton has deposited in Paz his confidence, the young grandfather did not know all the feats of the grandson, as naturally it happens. But he lives in him like in one of his magnetic fields. He is in the vision and the words of Paz, like the shade of rays on the tiger in the weeds.

Paz kept Breton in his mind when writing his poetry, even after Breton’s death; Breton had some how engraved himself in Paz’s poetic mind. The bond between these two poets was extremely strong. 

 

Sources:

http://www.studiocleo.com/librarie/breton/bretonbiography.html

http://books.google.com/books?id=HHO79BCIRQ4C&pg=PA30&lpg=PA30&dq=andre+breton+influencing+octavio+paz&source=bl&ots=aiVd81–uu&sig=HthrVw53EK1qGb7a4nZFR40StmE&hl=en&ei=L2bOSc7lCMzinQfM0KHsCQ&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=8&ct=result#PPA33,M1

http://www.angelfire.com/ar2/libros/Breton.html

After studying the poetry of Walt Whitman, T.S. Eliot, Robert Frost, Wallace Stevens, Ezra Pound, and William Carlos Williams, and researching Octavio Paz, I have found that each of these “master poets” has influenced Paz’s work. However, I will be focusing on only one of these major influences: Robert Frost. 

A fellow blogger expands on these influencing poet masters:

“Everywhere, his appetite for literature was insatiable. In the United States, he devoured Walt Whitman, Hart Crane, William Carlos Williams, Ezra Pound; in Europe, T.S. Eliot, Federico Garcia Lorca, the French symbolists and surrealists; in India, the Ramayana, the Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita; and in Japan, the haiku poets. They all exerted influences on the content, esthetics and structure of his poetry.”

ROBERT FROST & OCTAVIO PAZ

The poetic connection between Frost and Paz is almost invisible to the public; when searching for some ‘scholarly’ information it was almost impossible to find any support, however, I was able to find an article full of great information connecting these two poets. This information reveals that, contrary to the ‘un-findable’ sources, the intertextuality between Frost and Paz is very prominent. 

“Paz and Frost are widely regarded as the laureates of their respective cultures: one, the poet of Mexico’s native identity and history, its pervasive and indigenous, hot, acrid dust, a symbol of Mexico’s particular reality and of the characteristic Latin American preoccupation with time and death; the other, the Yankee bard of northern snow and dark woods, equivalent symbols of Frost’s restless anxiety over outer chaos and over even more troubling inner “desert places”" (Frost, Poetry 296).

The two poets only met in person one time, during an interview with Paz interviewing Frost. Although only meeting once, this interview exposes how similar these poets were, and how strong the intertextuality between them is. 

Both poets range over subjects such as the relationships between creativity and solitude, art and nature, individual talent and tradition, humor and passion.

The subject matter, themes, styling, and structure of Paz’s and Frost’s poetry is incredibly similar. 

“Both poets, for instance, acknowledge vigorously the particularities of the phenomenal world, the irreducible thereness of the physical while also invoking the ineffable mystery of being, the ghostly incandescence of spiritual life and desire.”

The following is an excerpt from Paz’s poem Visita:

After walking along the road for twenty minutes in the three-o’clock sun, I finally came to the bend. I turned right and began to climb the slope. At intervals the trees bordering the path afforded a little coolness. There was water running among grasses in a brook. The sand creaked under my shoes. The sun was everywhere. The air smelled of hot, thirsty green weeds. Not a leaf stirred on the trees. Above them, a few clouds rested heavily, anchored in a windless blue gulf. A bird sang. I halted: “It would be much better to lie down under the elm. The sound of water is worth more than all the words of poets.”) (“Visit” 8 )

The bordering trees (“lines,” as Frost calls them in “The Wood Pile,” “Straight up and down… / Too much alike to mark or name a place by / So as to say for certain I was here / Or somewhere else: I was just far from home”), the sibilant brook, the creaking of sand under foot, the bird in song, the reflective and self-conscious stance–all are details that Paz may well have deliberately borrowed from Frost but that in any case reveal the Mexican poet’s affinity for the spectacle of the physical (Poetry 101).

This clearly shows that Paz was influenced by Frost, as he has ‘borrowed’ some of Frost’s lines, and used them in his own poem, Visita. Also obvious, is how both these poets focused on nature in many of their poems, as Visita and The Wood Pile are both centered around a natural setting, with trees, water, sand, and animals.

The Following is another excerpt from Visita:

Nature is hostile….Besides, we are few and weak. The landscape swallows men up, and there is always the danger of being changed into a cactus…It is a country that will turn to stone some day. The trees and plants are tending toward stone, the same as the people. And the animals, too, the dogs and coyotes and snakes. There are birds made of baked clay and it is very strange to see them fly and hear them sing, because you have not got used to the idea that they are actually birds. (“Visit” 8 )

Frost read this poem, paying close attention to Paz’s creative language, and explained that it is similar to the freedom of a country:

 

“Both poetry and “country things,” as Frost suggests in a different context (the complex lyric “The Need of Being Versed in Country Things”), are “experience[s] in freedom. It’s like poetry. Life is like poetry, when a poet writes a poem. It starts out by being an invitation to the unknown: he writes the first line and doesn’t know what comes next.” “Tiene usted razon” (“You are right”), answers Paz. “La poesia es la experiencia de la libertad. El poeta se arriesga, se juega el todo por el todo del poema en cada verso que escribe” (“Poetry is an experience in freedom. The poet takes chances, he gambles the whole poem in every line he writes”). “And you can’t take it back,” adds Frost. “Each act, each line, is irrevocable and forever. You’re compromised forever in every line” (“Visita” 36-37; “Visit” 8). As in Frost’s “The Tuft of Flowers,” the poetic act is as vitalizing as country mowing–inviting dreaming, weary men to bond in “brotherly speech”–but also as perpetually unfinished as the country work of stacking wood in “The Wood-Pile”: although the gamble of metaphor may, like blooms spared from the keen scythe, survive the encounter with country, with reality’s pressures, and offer the poet a moment of “sheer morning gladness,” it also may end, like the “cord of maple,” the meticulous “labor of…ax,” wasted and sinking in the “frozen swamp… / With the slow smokeless burning of decay” (Poetry 23, 101-02). Always risk, always compromise.”

Frost and Paz both see poetry as a form of liberation, in which people can come together; they also reveal that poets must take chances, and that once you put the words down they will be there forever, and you can never erase them. Both poets know that poetry is taxing, and may not always end up as you hope, but they are so determined to create poetry that they continue writing it, no matter the outcome. 

The following lines of Paz reveal this idea that both him and Frost have stated:

Yo dibujo estas letras como el dia dibuja sus imagenes y sopla sobre ellas y no vuelve

(I draw these letters as the day draws its images and blows over them and does not return.)

(Collected Poems 252-53)

Frost and Paz both use metaphor to “resist the void” and they believe that “analogical imagination” is the “source of order against reason”. They both use poetry to explore the outer world, and bring forward the inner imagination. 

One of Paz’s significant thematic predilections as a poet tends to parallel Frost’s concerns with the role of metaphor in the imagination’s efforts to define and order through the power of analogy the outer confusion of shifting reality. On the subject of how metaphor–thus language itself–as analogy bridges the gulf between the conceiving imagination of poet and the physical world perceived by senses, Paz writes, “Analogy is a rhythmic vision of the universe; before becoming an idea, it is a verbal experience. If the poet hears the universe as a language, he also utters the universe” (Mire 94).

In Paz’s poem “Entre Lo Que Veo” (“Between What I See”), both poets theory on poetry is revealed:

Tangible idea, intangible word: poetry comes and goes between what is and what is not. It weaves and unweaves reflections. Poetry scatters eyes on a page, scatters words on our eyes. Eyes speak, words look, looks think. To hear thoughts, see what we say, touch the body of an idea. Eyes close, the words open.

Throughout the entire interview, Frost and Paz agreed on almost all their beliefs on poetry, and each poets see the other as inspirational and talented. They were both poets who were “predominantly concerned with the essential risk of words”. This leads to Paz’s belief that poetry leaves you alone, and in solitude:

“El campo es…la experiencia de la soledad” (“The country is an experience in solitude”), Paz had remarked to Frost earlier, but so is poetry (“Visita” 36; “Visit” 8). In the act of forging meaning out of either dust or snow “que apenas se toca se deshace entre las manos…” (“which, when you barely touch it, sifts through your fingers…”), the poet is truly alone, as in love and death.

As revealed earlier, Paz uses an equation of creativity, that involves poetry and life itself, with “love set against the world’s unalterable course towards death”. Paz’s equation would have pleased Frost. This is evident in 1939 when Frost wrote:

“The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom. The figure is the same as for love. No one can really hold that the ecstasy should be static and stand still in one place. It begins in delight, it inclines to the impulse, it assumes direction with the first line laid down, it runs a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification of life…a momentary slay against confusion” (Poirier, “Paz” 6; Frost, Prose 18).

Furthermore, Frost would also please Paz, as Frost eventually made the Mexican’s “great themes of solitude and creativity” the focus of one of the last poems he wrote, during the last year of his life:

In winter in the woods alone

Against the trees I go.

I mark a maple for my own

And lay the maple low.

At four o’clock I shoulder ax,

And in the afterglow

I link a line of shadowy tracks

Across the tinted snow.

I see for Nature no defeat

In one tree’s overthrow

Or for myself in my retreat

For yet another blow.

This poem, written by Frost, using Paz’s themes on solitude, clearly shows the connection between these poets. Once again, nature is the main subject of the poem, and the speaker is alone, in solitude, in nature. This poem also demonstrates their similar belief that nature is undefeated, but the poet may be defeated, but words are forever, and they must continue forward. This also demonstrates both poets dependency on metaphors in their poetry; this poem is a metaphor on life, and being alone. Being in solitude allows you to be one with nature, and allows your thoughts to flow. Frost clearly wanted to incorporate Paz into his final piece of poetry.

“The Mexican and the American, the great poets of the dust and snow that vanish all too quickly even in the spell of poetry, met only once. But perhaps they would have enjoyed bracing together another time for yet another blow against a diminishing world and against the blankness of that space after the poem.”

Source:

Octavio Paz and Robert Frost: El Polvo y la Nieve Que se Deshacen Entre las Manos

By John Zubizarreta

Comparative Literature, Vol. 47, No. 3 (Summer, 1995), pp. 235-250 

(article consists of 16 pages)

Published by: Duke University Press on behalf of the University of Oregon

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa3612/is_199507/ai_n8715588

 

 

 

The second poem I chose to analyze is titled Jardin con Nino, which translated to English means: Garden and child.    

A reading of this poem by Paz himself is available through this link:

http://www.palabravirtual.com/index.php?ir=ver_voz2.php&wid=2116&p=Octavio%20Paz&t=Jard%EDn%20con%20ni%F1o

It was challenging to find a translation of this poem, but here is the best one I could find:

Garden and Child

A feeling, I am inside. Corridors, doors that give a hotel room, an intersection, an urban wasteland. And yawning and abandonment, you, intact, surrounded by greenery so much death, garden reviewed tonight. Foolish and lucid dreams, and delirium geometry between high walls of adobe. The square of the pines, eight witnesses of my childhood, always standing, never without changing position, in costume, in silence. The pile of boulders that flag that did not end the civil war, a place beloved by blues and lizards. The mate, with his secrets, his green molicie hot, crouching its bugs and terrible. Fig and advice. Opponents: The floripondio and white lights across the grain, jewels red candles burning in broad daylight. The quince and flexible rods, which started to air ayes morning. The luxury of the wine stain on the wall Bugambilia immaculate, white. The holy site, the infamous location, the corner of the monologue: the orphaning of an afternoon, a morning of hymns, silence, that day of glory interview shared. 

Up in the rush of the branches, between the clear sky and the crossroads of the green, then the bat with swords transparent. Flat earth rained recently, the harsh smell the grass alive. The silence is located and interrogated me. But I thrived and I planted in the center of my memory. I hope the air laden with long future. Coming wave of the future, rumored conquests, discoveries, and these sudden gaps which prepares the unknown with their outbreaks. I whistle between my teeth, and my whistle, in the clarity of the hour, is a happy whiplash that awakens wings and starts prophecies flying.

 And I watch them leave for there, the other side, where a hunched man in shirtsleeves writes laboriously between the furious pauses, those few good-byes from the brink of the 

precipicehttp://translate.google.com/translate_t#

My analysis:

This poem is obviously not in the normal format of poetry, as it is written in paragraph form, as though Paz was trying to write a story rather than a poem. This poem is written about the struggle of an individual within a garden, that seems beautiful, but is actually full of misery, sadness, and death, because of a war (actual or emotional). This struggle may possibly be based off of Paz dealing with the struggle for equality and rights in Mexico, or him working as an ambassador for Mexico. He uses very vivid imagery, and has created a pretty lengthly poem of this story. This poem reveals Paz’s surrealist background, with this poem almost seeming like a dream. 

 

Luckily, I was able to find a scholarly article about this poem. The following is an excerpt from the article, which analyzes Paz’s poem:

 

“Jardin con nino,” the first poem of the eponymous section “Aguila o sol,” is a still life, a moment frozen in time that serves as a portal to the past. The speaker steps into the world of the garden as one would step into a painting. This threshold is the “sacred place, infamous site, corner of the monologue” upon which the speaker fashions what Yeats would call a quarrel with his past self. Every element of the garden is charged with mythical significance and the power to transport and transform. The encounter is catalyzed by the speaker’s whistle, which, like a summoning gong, cuts across time, divides the self, and sends forth auguries of his future: “I whistle between my teeth, and my whistle, in the clarity of the hour, is a happy whiplash that awakens wings and starts prophecies flying. And I watch them leave for there, the other side, where a hunched man in shirtsleeves writes laboriously between the furious pauses, those few good-byes from the brink of the precipice.”

The speaker is doubled with a romantic and surrealist trope that recalls not only the book’s central identity conflict but also the archetypal struggle with self portrayed in the biblical combat between Jacob and an unnamed figure. Paz calls the invocation of otherness the vital moment of creation: “To speak is the most elevated activity: to reveal the hidden, awake the buried word, provoke the apparition of our double, to create file other that we are and which we never stop being at all” (Corriente alterna, 1967; Eng. Alternating Current, 1973). The image of the double is echoed by the choice of the prose poem, according to Barbara Johnson, who calls it “neither poetry’s ‘other’ nor its ‘same.’”

The encounter with the doubled self correlates to the sense of entrapment and the search for escape. Living in postwar Paris, Paz later said, was like living in a tunnel with no exit. (3) The “combates cuerpo a cuerpo con mi alma” (hand-to-hand combat with my soul) lead to an inward-directed archaeology:” I travel through myself like a reptile between broken stones, mass of debris and bricks without history.” The speaker finds within himself a labyrinth of obstructed paths: “I move forward, I pierce great rocks of years, great masses of compacted light, I go down into galleries of mines of sand, I travel corridors that close on themselves like granite lips.”

http://0-find.galegroup.com.elibrary.mel.org/ips/retrieve.do?contentSet=IAC-Documents&resultListType=RESULT_LIST&qrySerId=Locale%28en%2C%2C%29%3AFQE%3D%28KE%2CNone%2C25%29octavio+paz%2C+aguila+o+sol%24&sgHitCountType=None&inPS=true&sort=DateDescend&searchType=BasicSearchForm&tabID=T002&prodId=IPS&searchId=R1&currentPosition=1&userGroupName=lom_accessmich&docId=A122924494&docType=IAC&contentSet=IAC-Documents

Galvin, Rachel. ”Neither heads nor tails: the middle province in Octavio Paz’s ?Aguila o sol?.” World Literature Today 78.3-4 (Sept-Dec 2004): 47(5). General OneFile. Gale. Library of Michigan. 19 Mar. 2009 <http://0-find.galegroup.com.elibrary.mel.org/ips/start.do?prodId=IPS>