Showing posts with label Saarikoski. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Saarikoski. Show all posts

Monday, November 29, 2010

Off the Shelf Archive - November #3

This ironic little study on the vagaries of government and society by Finnish post-modern poet Pentti Saarikoski now goes into the archive to make room for an indulgence on my part. Probably one of the three most seminal poems to my own worldview, this may not be the best poem Wallace Stevens ever wrote (that would be 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, in my very humble opinion) or the most anthologized, but remains my personal favorite. So without further ado, his poem of transition, life, lust, hate, disgust, love, and survival, Farewell to Florida. (Bear with me, the dark winter's just around the corner, and nothing could go along with it more fittingly.)

As with all the Off the Shelf selections, feel free to comment on either of these poems in this post here in the main stream since comments are disabled on the actual page, and also feel free to recommend a poet you'd like to see in Off the Shelf next time. I'm thinking it's time for a woman.

From The Invitation to The Dance, entry XXX by Pentii Saarikovski:

XXX


The tyrants were
people who took off their clothes
and put them on
worked late
shuffled papers
and citizens 
from the In tray
to the Out tray
now government has no cordiality
the tyrants have been rationalized away
now machines that don’t get tired
or drunk
or dance Cossack dances
do the work
they talk like barbed wire being stretched
and you can hear what you are
you are a number one two three 
or a four or a five a six a seven
or zero
these machines wouldn’t be possible
if they hadn’t been invented

Penttii Saarikoski

Translated from the Finnish by Anselm Hollo

Top photo credit

 

 

Penttii Saarikovski was a Finnish poet, translator, bohemian, political activist and enfant terrible of Finland's literary landscape during the  Sixties and Seventies. You can find some information about his life and times here in his wikipedia entry  and also here.This poem is taken from the second entry in his Trilogy, Invitation to the Dance (1980) which represents some of his last published work.


Friday, November 19, 2010

Off the Shelf Archive - November #2

This fine poem by Langston Hughes is going into the archive to make room for the final November selection, a poem  XXX, by a Finnish poet I've recently been introduced to, Penttii Saarikoski. Since no comments are published on that page, feel free to comment on either poem here.



So without further ado, here's Langston Hughes speaking to us from the Great Depression about our lives today:





Advertisement for the Waldorf Astoria
 


Fine living . . . a la carte?
Come to the Waldorf-Astoria!

LISTEN HUNGRY ONES!
Look! See what Vanity Fair says about the
new Waldorf-Astoria:

"All the luxuries of a private home. . . ."
Now, won't that be charming when the last flop-house
has turned you down this winter?
Furthermore:
"It is far beyond anything hitherto attempted in the hotel
world. . . ." It cost twenty-eight million dollars. The fa-
mous Oscar Tschirky is in charge of banqueting.
Alexandre Gastaud is chef. It will be a distinguished
background for society.
So when you've no place else to go, homeless and hungry
ones, choose the Waldorf as a background for your rags--
(Or do you still consider the subway after midnight good
enough?)

ROOMERS
Take a room at the new Waldorf, you down-and-outers--
sleepers in charity's flop-houses where God pulls a
long face, and you have to pray to get a bed.
They serve swell board at the Waldorf-Astoria. Look at the menu, 

will you:

GUMBO CREOLE
CRABMEAT IN CASSOLETTE
BOILED BRISKET OF BEEF
SMALL ONIONS IN CREAM
WATERCRESS SALAD
PEACH MELBA

Have luncheon there this afternoon, all you jobless.
Why not?
Dine with some of the men and women who got rich off of
your labor, who clip coupons with clean white fingers
because your hands dug coal, drilled stone, sewed gar-
ments, poured steel to let other people draw dividends
and live easy.
(Or haven't you had enough yet of the soup-lines and the bit-
ter bread of charity?)
Walk through Peacock Alley tonight before dinner, and get
warm, anyway. You've got nothing else to do.



Langston Hughes 1902-1967




Illustration: Advertisement for the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, New York City, circa 1950  public domain