How come love poems don't age? Why can we look at a love poem by Sappho or Solomon or Chu Shuzhen and still feel struck to the quick of the heart? Whereas Hallmark love is cliched and stupid by contrast?
I've been reading a shortened version of "The Kural" by Tiruvalluvar, the greatest of the pre-modern Tamil poets, and all his couplets on manhood and statecraft sound absurd and moralistic today. But his lovesongs:
126. Farewell, Reserve!
Love the axe breaks down the bolted door
Of bashful reserve.
That pitiless thing called Love exploits even at night
Its mother, my heart.
Fain would I hide my love, but it breaks out
Like a sneeze.
I thought I had control, but my love
Breaks all bonds.
Not for the love-sick is the dignity
That will not chase the indifferent.
How wonderful is my grief
Seeking the indifferent!
What do we know of shame when the lover
Does all we long for?
Where is that fortress of feminine reserve
That can resist a host of enticing words?
I said I would hold back, but when my heart went out
I too went with it and clasped him.
Is it possible for those to freeze
Whose heart melts at a touch?
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2 comments:
hi, another lovely review in LIFE!, right next to your own review of the dance :)
This was inspiring. I've sent you an email with the result. Alternatively you can find it on my blog. :)
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