The Ritual Master Hello, friends ! I feel like I need to say “I’m back !” After an extended month in my virtual Japan, it really feels like I’ve travelled, when in reality it’s only been 10 books, 6 teas, a few walks in the park and some delicious meals. But in closing my last book, I returned home, and it so happens my little green oasis needed a bit of attention.
This month I’ve let myself be tempted by the many readathons organised here on BookTube, so my reading plans are overly ambitious I’m afraid. But a girl has to dream… starting with the most time-generous of them all, the Tudoralong hosted by Gemma, Emily and Dani (I’ll leave the links to their channels below), then the Historical Fiction readathon organised by Katie over on Books and Things, and of course, the May of the Moderns organised by the lovely Margaret Pinard. I’ll probably get to update you on my reading of all of this in June, since I have a bit of travelling going on in May, so why not combine some of my goals and get started right now.
I announced back in January that I wanted to review some Nobel Laureates for Literature every month. I’ve started with Orhan Pamuk, Selma Lagerlöf, Yasunari Kawabata, and here we are, in the late Spring, bathing in glorious sunshine every day, and dreaming of something a little more caliente. So I’ve decided to go back to Pablo Neruda’s poems and dream of a little vineyard in Chile. Little did I know I was getting two for the price of one, and even more so, reading two books for May of the Moderns.
Just a quick reminder, May of the Moderns is an invitation to read books written or published between 1901 and 1945. So I’m beginning with a collection of poems published in 1924 : Twenty love poems and a song of despair, by Chile’s famous poet and 1971 Nobel Prize for Literature laureate, Pablo Neruda.
Nobel Prize jury motivation :
“for a poetry that with the action of an elemental force brings alive a continent’s destiny and dreams.”
1971
I’ve read Neruda’s poems in the past, but never in an organised start-to-finish way, so this was a complete immersion into his universe, especially since I had this original edition in Spanish. His works have been debated and analysed, put into historical context after World War One and into artistic context with the Modern movement taking over, not to mention a whole generation of writers breaking all the rules. But what I felt while reading his poems this time around, was the miraculous beauty of words. A beautifully crafted ode to the simplest of pleasures, an expression of love both carnal and emotional, neither overly sentimental nor crude or vulgar. The poems felt naturally beautiful. Like an organic expression of human nature. Like this :
Your breast is enough for my heart,
And my wings are enough for your freedom.
What was sleeping above your soul will rise
Out of my mouth to heaven.
This called for a special drink, and my love of Chilean wine is no secret. As with all wines you have mass marketed brands and you have boutique producers of mysterious descent. But the thing is, you sometimes can discover a good wine even on the shelves of the supermarket. It’s 50% attention and 50% luck. Concha y Toro is possibly the most exported Chilean wine in the world. And even in the land of wine that is France, there is a bottle of it in almost every supermarket. What I’ve found is that this popularity guarantees a decent turnover and with it a pretty constant quality.
My choice for today was a Casillero del Diablo Cabernet Sauvignon, that feels particularly good in the sunny Central valley, in the foothills of the Andes mountain range. It is Casillero del Diablo’s most famous variety, and Decanter magazine called its 2005 vintage the best of the planet. Intense aromas of cherries and plum with a touch of vanilla and toast. A full bodied wine that I enjoy on its own, to savour all the depth of flavour without any distractions. I don’t think there is a better suited drink for Pablo Neruda’s poems, so I’m diving back into my reading.
And to my great surprise, I got to poem number 16, En mi cielo al crepùsculo, In my sky at twilight.
In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon’s
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are as wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.
The tiny mention under the title says “this poem is a paraphrase of the 30th poem in Rabindranath Tagore’s The Gardener”. So here I was, with my glass of Chilean wine, ready to cross over on the other side of the planet, for a second Nobel Prize Laureate and perfect candidate for May of the Moderns.
Nobel Prize jury motivation :
“because of his profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse, by which, with consummate skill, he has made his poetic thought, expressed in his own English words, a part of the literature of the West.”
1913
If Neruda has conquered me with the natural simplicity of his expression, Tagore fascinates me through the exotic sources of his inspiration. The 15th century Indian mystics and the 19th century Bengali folk songs meet in a form of Modernism that is absolutely unique. Essence and decor bring forward a poetry of the divine, from the heart of a free spirited pacifist, an advocate of independence without broken bridges, and an eternal artist.
The Gardener: 30
You are the evening cloud floating in the sky of my dreams.
I paint you and fashion you ever with my love longings.
You are my own, my own, Dweller in my endless dreams!Your feet are rosy-red with the glow of my heart’s desire, Gleaner of my sunset songs!
Your lips are bitter-sweet with the taste of my wine of pain.
You are my own, my own, Dweller in my lonesome dreams!With the shadow of my passion have I darkened your eyes, Haunter of the depth of my gaze!
I have caught you and wrapt you, my love, in the net of my music.
You are my own, my own, Dweller in my deathless dreams!
In letting himself be inspired by the great Tagore, Neruda has challenged me to dive into the poetry of the moderns, that have undoubtedly felt the influence of the modern movement globally, but have translated it through their own sensibility and that of their culture. A little appetizer with a poetic May of the Moderns.
I can’t wait to see all the May of the Moderns videos and I urge you to follow them through Margaret’s channel, all the links are in the description.I’m off to my little May holiday, you’ll see results later in the year since I am visiting some book inspired places, but until then… enjoy your reading and your rituals !
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