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In the Shadow's LightY Included here is an extensive new interview with the poet in English translationIncluded here is a very helpful and touchingly personal interview with. We were looking at our trees from upOn the terrace we loved the sunLingered near us this time as wellBut at a certain distance a silent guestIn the doorway of the house in ruinsWhich we had left full of light to his powerLook I told you he slides against the unevenIncomprehensible stone we lean uponThe shadow cast by our mingling shouldersAnd the one made by the almond trees close by;And even the shadow of the tops of the walls that blendsWith the others riddled with holes charred barkDrifting prow like a surfeit of dream or smokeBut the oak trees down there are motionlessEven their shadow does not move in the lightThese are the shores of Time that flowsHere where we areAnd on this ground no one can landSo fast is the current of hope pregnant with deathFor a whole hour we looked at the treesThe sun tarried among the stonesThen felt compassion and stretched outTowards them down below in the ravineOur shadows and they seemed to meetJust as reaching out an arm one can sometimesTouch in the distance between two peopleA moment of another person's endless dream The Trees pg 13 Summer passed through the cool rooms violentIts eyes blind its flanks bare;It cried out and its call troubled the dreamsOf those sleeping there in the simplicity of their lightThe shuddered and the rhythm of their breathing changedTheir hands put down the heavy cup of sleepAnd already the sky was again on the earthBringing the afternoon storms of summer in the eternal A Stone pg 25 You hear the chain striking the wallWhen the bucket goes down into the well that other starSometimes the evening star the one that comes aloneSometimes the fire without rays that waits at dawnFor the shepherd and his flock to go outBut the water at the bottom of the well is always closedAnd the star there remains forever sealedYou can see shadows there beneath branchesThat are travellers passing by nightBowed down beneath a load of blackness they goAs if hesitating at a crossroadsSome seem to wait others withdrawInto the glittering that flows without lightMan's voyage and woman's is long longer that lifeIt is a star at the end of the road a skyThat was shining we thought between two treesWhen the bucket touches the water that lifts it upThere is joy then the chain overwhelms it The Well pg 39 It rained during the nightThe path smells of wet grassThen once again the hand of the heatOn our shoulder to sayThat time will never take anything from usBut lookThere where the field runs against the almond treeA beast of prey has sprungFrom yesterday to today through the leavesAnd we stop it is outside the worldAnd I come toward youI finish tearing you from the blackened trunkBranch lightning struck summerFrom which yesterday's sap flows still divine The Lightning pg 45 Come let me whisper to you ofA child I knewSeparate as he wasFrom the others motionlessMornings he never joinedThose at play in the treesAdding worlds to worldsNor would he run across the beachToward still lightLook though he hasMade his way at the baseOf the dunes proof of itAre these footprints betweenThe thistles and the seaAnd near them you can seeThat the water that reflects the skyIs filling the larger footprintsOf an unknown woman going by A Stone pg 51 It has come from further than the roadsIt has touched the meadow the ochre of the flowersWith the hand that writes in smokeIt has vanuished time through silenceMore light this eveningBecause of the snowYou would think the leaves in front of the door were burningAnd there is water in the wood we bring in The Snow pg 63 IThey say a god searchedOver sealed watersLike a rapacious birdIts distant preyAnd with a raucous Solitary cryCreated Time that shinesIn the hollows of the waveNight covers dayThen withdrawsIts foam unfurlsUpon the stones close byWhat is God if hisOnly work is timeHas he wanted to dieNot knowing birthIn vain his battleAgainst absenceHe threw out his netAbsence held the swordIIBut the lightning remainsPoised above the worldAs though fording a streamFrom stone to stoneHas beauty beenOnly a dreamThe face of the lightBut with eyes closedNo since its reflectionIs in us the flameThat bathes nakedIn the dead wood's waterIt is the body exaltedBy a mirrorAs a fire catches suddenlyIn a circle of stonesAnd the world joy has meaningIn spite of deathThere where the wind will stirThese burning embersIIISufficient the daysThat go toward dawnIn burst of lightIn the night skyThe sword the net nowMake only a singleHand that clasps in peaceThe fragile neckIlluminated the soul isLike a swimmerWho plunges all at onceBeneath the lightAnd his eyes are closedHis body nakedHis mouth wants saltNot language There in the Hollows of the Wind pg 87 91 He dreamed that he was opening his eyes onto sunsAs they drew near the harbour; silentWithout light but mirrored in the gray waterBy the shadow of a colour to beThen he awoke What is light And what does it meanTo paint here in the night To intensifyThe blue we see the ochre all the redsIs this not death even than beforeAnd so he painted the harbour but in ruinsYou could hear the water lapping at beauty's flankAnd children crying in closed roomsThe stars sparkled among the stonesBut in his last painting only a sketchIt seems it is Psyche who has returnedAnd has collapsed in tears or hums a tuneIn the tangled grasses of the castle of Love Psyche before the Castle of Love pg 103 IThe child seemed to wander about at the top of the treeIt was hard to make out the body envelopedIn a fire in a smoke that the light would sometimesPierce like an oar that is striking waterHe would climb up then come down a little and stopHe would rove among the pyramidsOf the land of the treetops whose flanksAre still bathing in the sun's red lightThe child went along singing dreaming his lifeWas he alone in his garden of palmsThey say that the sun sometimes lingersFor a night in the harbour of a simple dreamThey also say that the sun is a barkThat crosses the summit of the sky each eveningThe dead are at the prow; they see the worldEndlessly duplicated by other starsIILater the child climbed down passing from branch to branchThrough what seemed to us a starry skyNothing made different in the silenceThe blue summit of the trees of the worldsHe was singing and laughing he was nakedHis body was from before the timeWhen man and woman made themselves distinct so as to findWith the cry of pleasure a new hope as wellHe was song itself The song that breaks offSometimes its foot feeling for something firmThen starts again and seems to speak to itselfLike two voices at the prow of a drifting boatIt is said that light is a childWho plays who dreams or sings wanting nothingIf it comes toward us it is still just to playTouching the ground with a heedless foot that would be dawn The Land of the Treetops pg 133 135 It is dawn Has this lamp then finishedIts task of hope hand placedIn the clouded mirror on the feverOf the one who kept watch not knowing how to dieBut it is true that he has not put it outIt still burns for him in spite of the skyThe seagulls screech their soul at your frost coveredWindow morning sleeper boat from another river The Task of Hope pg 157

Yves Bonnefoy Ú 6 summary

This bilingual edition of the contemporary master's fifth work Ce ui fut sans lumi re will delight engage and stir In the ePUB #8608 all lovers of poetr. Yves Bonnefoy is France’s current preeminent man of letters and this small volume is one of his collections of poetry I’d not read any of his work before and I enjoyed being introduced to his work These poems are translated by John Naughton and at the end of the book there is a long interview of Bonnefoy by Naughton I found it helpful to read the interview before beginning the poems themselves because it locates the poems in terms of geography and time It also provides a philosophical orientation to what Bonnefoy tries to accomplish with this collection He is most interested in exploring the dimension of experience that is beyond language using language to suggest and evoke what it cannot say directly He refers to “the ever recurring conflicts in speech between representation which is always illusory and presence which is always furtive” And he states “Writing from the outset is a subversion of ordinary meanings an interaction in the words between intentions and effects a great many of which are unconscious a deployment of symbols that think as if by themselves without the writer who works with them knowing exactly what he is saying through them” And reading the poems does indeed provide a glimpse a felt awareness of a deeper and profound underlying reality than the surface of the verse would seem to suggest Bonnefoy’s poetry needs to be read in two ways with a focus on the obvious literal meaning of the language and a continual awareness of an even richer underlying meaning and experience In a word the poetry must be read with great mindfulness The experience of so doing is profoundIn the present edition the original French on the left page faces the English translation on the right facilitating the comparison of the two versions and allowing the reader to appreciate the rhythm and flow of the original Bonnefoy’s poetry is as noted above often elusive and always to be experienced on than one level I find it meaningful to read each poem several times without trying to “figure out” rationally what he is trying to say Often to my surprise I find that I am deeply moved sometimes with tears welling up without any conscious awareness of specific meaning in the lines I am reading This is what it is to live a poem And over time overt meanings emerge There is something primordial that Bonnefoy is touching articulating and that something is very deep and precious This wrestling with language and what it can only obliuely express reminded me of another work that I love and that struggles with some of the same issues TS Eliot’s “Four uartets”The poems in each of the five parts of this collection are related thematically enabling Bonnefoy to build upon and expand his insights and ideas thus providing an internal unity that enhances the effectiveness with which he is able to communicate his poetic and philosophical vision A momentum is also created that further pulls the reader into the subtext of the worksLet me provide a few examples of lines that struck me short fragments that I found striking before I uote a couple of longer passages of note“speech Is that half broken trough flowing At every rainy dawn with useless waterThe work of mending in this world never ends Paradise lies scatteredThe miracle of here and nowThe place of victory of victory over ourselves Is here in what we are leaving tonight Endlessly here”“My voice is this frost beneath the silenceAnd look the stone In the grass of the threshold has boundless words And there in the heat What knows no peace is peace nevertheless”A longer passage“On the horizon that closes our language;It is as though the lightning as it struckHeld back its naked sword and with surpriseAt this very instant almost eternalRediscovered the land of childhoodWandered along its paths; and touched once With pensive hands things long forgotten; the clothesThat languish in old closets the two or threeMysterious toys from the child’s first momentsOf joyfulness divine This light this deathUndoes time as it roams throughout the world;Shows us the wall all lit up at sunsetAnd leads us around the house and toward the arborTo offer for one brief moment O blissfulnessThe fruit the voices the shadows the soundsThe gentle wine in nothing but the light”As a penultimate example here is an entire poem “The Well the Brambles”“But we love those wells that keep their vigil far from roadsFor we wonder who comes toward themThrough the grasses obstructed by brambles drawnBy their stony domes risingAbove the bushes where the countryThat only knows eternity begins;We wonder who pauses at them todayWho opens them and bends down over another worldThe rusted iron resists there is a noiseThen a silence as deep when the lidThat divides the two heavens falls back upon the stoneAnd this is just a moment of summer the startledCricket has taken up once outside deathHis song that is matter becoming voiceOr light even but perhaps for nothingHe has perceived that these trampled grassesThese words these expectations were notMore than he is himself if this is the word among the bramblesThat scratch our faces but are onlyNothingness scratching nothingness in the summer’s light”And finally a very few lines first in the original French and then in translation“L’âme est illuminéeComme un nageurui se jette d’un coupSous la lumièreEt ses yeux sont fermésSon corps est nuSa bouch veut le selNon le langage”“Illuminated the soul isLike a swimmerWho plunges all at onceBeneath the lightAnd his eyes are closedHis body nakedHis mouth wants saltNot language”

summary In the Shadow's Light

In the Shadow's Light free read ↠ PDF, eBook or Kindle ePUB Ï [PDF / Epub] ★ In the Shadow's Light By Yves Bonnefoy – This bilingual edition of the contemporary master's fifth work Ce ui fut sans lumi re will delight engage and stir all lovers of poetry Included here is an extensive newThe poet For readers with no prior knowledge of Bonnefoy's work this volume would be an excellent place to start Stephen Romer Times Literary Supplemen. This is one of the best books of poetry I've ever had the pleasure of reading Yves Bonnefoy has become my favorite poet