தளத்தைப் பற்றி

ஏராளமான இணைய தளங்கள் தமிழில் உள்ளது. அவற்றிலிருந்து காலத்தால் அழிக்கமுடியாதவை சிலவற்றை இங்கே இந்த இடத்தில் தொகுக்கின்றேன். மேலும் சிறுபத்திரிகை சம்பந்தபட்டவற்றை (இணையத்தில் கிடைக்கும் பட வடிவ கோப்புகளை) - என் மனம் போன போக்கில் - Automated Google-Ocr (TShrinivasan's Python script) மூலம் தொகுக்கின்றேன். அவற்றில் ஏதேனும் குறையோ பிழையோ இருந்தாலும், பதிப்புரிமை உள்ளவர்கள் பதிவிட வேண்டாமென்று விருப்பப்பட்டாலும் அவை நீக்கப்படும். மெய்ப்புபார்க்க இயலவில்லை. மன்னிக்கவும். யாராவது மெய்ப்பு பார்க்க இயலுமாயின், சரிபார்த்து இந்த மின்னஞ்சலுக்கு அனுப்பவும்
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Saturday, April 26, 2014

பாடல் - தெட் ஹூஸ் (மொ.பெ - பிரமிள்), some Ted Hughes poems


பாடல் - தெட் ஹூஸ் (மொ.பெ - பிரமிள்)
பாடல் தனக்குக் காற்று வேண்டும்
என்று கேட்கவில்லை
தூரத்து வானையும் வேண்டவில்லை

அது எதிரொலித்த குன்றின்
சரிவும் அதற்கு வேண்டாம்
அதன் அதிர்வுகளில் நடுங்கும்
இலைகளும் வேண்டாம்
கற்கள் வேண்டாம்-
அவற்றின் அசைவின்மையை
அது கலக்கிவிட்டதெனினும்.

நீர் வேண்டாம்-
தனதே தனதான வாயும் வேண்டாம்.

அது உருவெடுத்து
வெளியே பொங்க உதவும்
குரல்வளை நுரையீரல் நாளங்கள்
எதிலும் அதற்கு அக்கறையில்லை.

ஆனந்தத்தில் உருப்பெற்ற பாடல்
இன்னும் ஜனிக்காத ஒன்றன்
வெற்றுக் கல்லறைமீது
ஒரு மரண கீதமெனப் பிரவஹித்து
இல்லாத ஒன்றைத் தேடுகிறது.

the song - Moortown



The Wanderer. - Song - Ted Hughes

O lady, when the tipped cup of the moon blessed you
You became soft fire with a cloud's grace;
The difficult stars swam for eyes in your face;
You stood, and your shadow was my place:
You turned, your shadow turned to ice O my lady.

O lady, when the sea caressed you
You were a marble of foam, but dumb.
When will the stone open its tomb?
When will the waves give over their foam?
You will not die, nor come home, O my lady.

O lady, when the wind kissed you
You made him music for you were a shaped shell.
I follow the waters and the wind still
Since my heart heard it and all to pieces fell
Which your lovers stole, meaning ill, O my lady.

O lady, consider when I shall have lost you
The moon's full hands, scattering waste,
The sea's hands, dark from the world's breast,
The world's decay where the wind's hands have passed,
And my head, worn out with love, at rest
In my hands, and my hands full of dust, O my lady.


http://dottydrama.livejournal.com/20882.html

What is it with me and poetry this year?
But yeah, I love this poem so much,
it's breath-taking in it's description of this lady who turns into a muse for the poet.
But she never loves him back even though she mean everything to him. How heart breakingly gorgeous is that?
I love that I don't understand this poem in all it's depth but just some of the phrases catch cords in my heart.
It's really beautiful and The Youtube video is of one of the most dashing actors in the world - Richard Armitage.
Gosh the way he reads it... I just want to die at how soothing his voice is.

LOVE SONG

He loved her and she loved him
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Off that moment's brink and into nothing
Or everlasting or whatever there was

Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His words were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assassin's attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
His glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon's gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
Her vows put his eyes in formalin
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall

Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other's face



Ted Hughes – Examination at the womb-door

Who owns those scrawny little feet? Death
Who owns this bristly scorched-looking face? Death
Who owns these still-working lungs? Death
Who owns this utility coat of muscles? Death
Who owns these unspeakable guts? Death
Who owns these questionable brains? Death
All this messy blood? Death
These minimum-efficiency eyes? Death
This wicked little tongue? Death
This occasional wakefulness? Death

Given, stolen, or held pending trial?
Held

Who owns the whole rainy, stony earth? Death
Who owns all of space? Death

Who is stronger than hope? Death
Who is stronger than the will? Death
Stronger than love? Death
Stronger than life? Death

But who is stronger than Death?
Me, evidently
Pass, Crow





Hawk Roosting

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.


Ted Hughes – Lineage

In the beginning was Scream
Who begat Blood
Who begat Eye
Who begat Fear
Who begat Wing
Who begat Bone
Who begat Granite
Who begat Violet
Who begat Guitar
Who begat Sweat
Who begat Adam
Who begat Mary
Who begat God
Who begat Nothing
Who begat Never
Never Never Never

Who begat Crow

Screaming for Blood
Grubs, crusts

Anything

Trembling featherless elbows in the nest's filth


Ted Hughes – Bayonet Charge

Suddenly he awoke and was running - raw
In raw-seamed hot khaki, his sweat heavy,
Stumbling across a field of clods towards a green hedge
That dazzled with rifle fire, hearing
Bullets smacking the belly out of the air -
He lugged a rifle numb as a smashed arm;
The patriotic tear that had brimmed in his eye
Sweating like molten iron from the centre of his chest, -
In bewilderment then he almost stopped -
In what cold clockwork of the stars and the nations
Was he the hand pointing that second? He was running
Like a man who has jumped up in the dark and runs
Listening between his footfalls for the reason
Of his still running, and his foot hung like
Statuary in mid-stride. Then the shot-slashed furrows
Threw up a yellow hare that rolled like a flame
An d crawled in a threshing circle, its mouth wide
Open silent, its eyes standing out.
He plunged past with his bayonet toward the green hedge,
King, honour, human dignity, etcetera
Dropped like luxuries in a yelling alarm
To get out of that blue crackling air
His terror’s touchy dynamite.