Sunday, 8 January 2006

The experience of poetry

Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century.
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin’ coal
Pourin’ off of every page
Like it was written in my soul
From me to you...

—Bob Dylan, ”Tangled Up in Blue” (1975)

2 Comments:

Steve Harris said...

I love that song. In discussion some time back on a poetry site, we were all naming our favorite Dylan songs. A number of us who came to Dylan in mid career named Tangled up in Blue as their favorite song -- which surprised a lot of the older Dylan fans. I've been on a major Dylan tear over the last year. Thanks.

Oh, here's a Hill poem I found on the internet:

Ovid in the Third Reich
Geoffrey Hill

non peccat, quaecumque potest peccasse negare,
solaque famosam culpa professa facit.
—(Amores, III, xiv)

I love my work and my children. God
Is distant, difficult. Things happen.
Too near the ancient troughs of blood
Innocence is no earthly weapon.

I have learned one thing: not to look down
So much on the damned. They, in their sphere,
Harmonize strangely with the divine
Love. I, in mine, celebrate the love-choir.

Rory Shiner said...

Hi Ben. Thanks for bringing back happy memories with Tangled Up In Blue. You've inspired my post recent posting--my own "best of Bob' list. Tangled Up In Blue wins the 'best lyrics' category.

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