A Poem by Dom Dinis
|
Rip
Cohen, Thirty Two Cantigos d'amigo of Dom Dinis, Hispanic
Seminary, 1987.
Dámaso Alonso and José Manuel Blecua,
Antología de la Poesía Española: Lirica de Tipo
Tradicional, 2nd ed., Ed. Gredos, 1964.
Dr. José Joaquim Nunes,
Crestomatia Arcaica, 7th ed, Livraria Classica Editora,
Lisboa, n.d. (first ed. 1921) |
For
reasons unknown to me,
Portuguese-language literature has been sadly neglected in the
greater world. Portuguese is easy to learn for anyone who knows
Spanish or even French, and its literature, especially its poetry,
has a distinct flavor of its own which makes the small effort well
worthwhile.
Portuguese-Galician was the first vernacular literary language
on the Iberian peninsula, and up until about 1350 was the primary
literary language in Spain as well as Portugal. Galicia is now
part of Spain, but the local language is closer to Portuguese.
During the period of the Reconquest, Galicia was one of the major
European cultural centers, and for a thousand years
Santiago_de_Compostela in Galicia has been one of Europe's most
important pilgrimage destinations.
The
Portuguese-Galician poetic tradition traces back to the
kharjas of Muslim
Andalusia -- short romance refrains attached to poems written in
Arabic or Hebrew. (Presumably there was also an autonomous Romance
poetry, but only these refrains have been preserved.) The Galician
poetic style is one of the original sources of European poetry,
independent of the Provencal and Italian traditions, and its
influence has never entirely disappeared from Portuguese and Spanish
poetry. Poems in the old Portuguese-Galician style (and the
descendant poems in modern Spanish and Portuguese) have a lightness,
quickness, and sharpness which is a welcome relief from the sludgy
Italianate poems which are so unfortunately common in every European
language.
Dom_Dinis of Portugal (1261-1325) was not only a great king, but
also was one of the first great poets of the Portuguese language.
His poem below (Cohen, #17, p 55) is one of my favorite poems in any
language.
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1
Levantou ss a velida
levantou ss alva
e vay lavar camisas
eno alto
vay las lavar alva |
The pretty girl got up at dawn
and went to wash blouses on the hill: she went to wash
them white. |
|
2
Levantou ss a louçana
levantou ss alva
e vay lavar delgadas
eno alto
vay las lavar alva |
The lovely girl got up at dawn and went to wash linens
up on the hill: she went to wash them white. |
|
3
Vai lavar camisas
levantou ss alva
o vẽto lhas desvia
eno alto
vay las lavar alva |
She went to wash blouses, she got up at dawn, but the
wind scattered them, up on the hill, she went to wash
them white. |
|
4
E vai lavar delgadas
levantou ss alva
o vẽto lhas levava
eno alto
vay las lavar alva
|
She went to wash linens, she got up at dawn, but the wind
carried them off, up on the hill: she went to wash them
white. |
5
O vẽto lhas desvia
levantou ss alva
meteu ss alva en hira
eno alto
vay las lavar alva |
The wind scattered them, she got up at dawn, this made
the dawn angry up on the hill: she went to wash them
white. |
6
O vẽto lhas desvia
levantou ss alva
meteu ss alva en sanha
eno alto
vay las lavar alva |
The wind carried them off, she got up at dawn, this
enraged the dawn up on the hill: she went to wash them
white. |
This poem might be called
Parnassian, minimalist, or even concrete. It's built around a
handful of repeating words alliterating on l and v
(levar / lavar / alva / velida: levar
and alva each with two different meanings). Lines 2, 3,
and 5 are identical in every stanza. Stanzas 2, 4, and 6 repeat
stanzas 1, 3, and 5 identically except for one or two
synonym-substitutions. The first line of stanzas 3 and 5 is a
repetition of the third line of stanzas 1 and 3. The chart
below shows how seven lines of poetry were puffed up into a
30-line poem with the help of four synonym-substitutions.
The story told is slight, but it does have a
mysterious air of sexual awakening, and possibly rape. (Some
think alva meant the fair maiden, and not the
dawn; and does delgadas suggest underthings?)
The content, without the repetitions, is merely this:
| The beautiful girl got up
at dawn and went up the hill to wash her laundry
white. The wind scattered her laundry, and the dawn
was furious. |
I first read the poem
standing by itself, but Rip Cohen has shown that it is a climactic
point of a 32-poem sequence (in recognizable genres called called
komos, renunciation, invitation, etc.) which depict
various stages of courtship: parting, separation, fear of
gossip, fear of betrayal, fear of abandonment, etc. The poem,
miraculous as it is as a free-standing unit, gains greatly from
this contexting.
Poems in highly repetitious
forms often seem tiresome and forced, but the lightness and
swiftness characteristic of the Galician canciones d'amigo
(and the Peninsular lirica de tipo tradicional generally)
allows this poem to be heard as pure music -- as successful a
Parnassian poems as has ever been written. The content or
"story" of the poem is more or less the same as that of an
earlier, more conventional poem by Pero Meogo, but the masterful
king has stripped the earlier poem down to its ambiguous,
mysterious, minimalist essence.
Note: Cecile Lombard, the French
translator of Menina e Moca into French, says that one
source says that eno alto means no alto mar ("in
the ocean"), which makes more sense than going uphill to wash
clothes. Rip Cohen translates "in the river"; according to my
dictionary "eno alto" could mean "upstream." Furthermore,
according to Cohen, the girl represents the Virgin Mary and the
wind represents the Holy Spirit. This perfect poem is at the
climactic place of the sequence, and is quite capable of bearing
the added weight.
Two acrostics, one in Latin and one in
Hebrew, lead to a startling conclusion: that this is no ordinary
girl, but the Virgin Mary, and that her `friend' is the Holy
Spirit. Both Mary's presence eno alto (at the river) and her
less than enthusiastic reception of the Holy Spirit are related
to traditions in the pseudo-gospels and medieval art. The song
thus provides a daring portrayal of the annunciation, and is
placed strategically at the centre of an organized sequence of
cantigas d'amigo.
Portuguese Studies, Volume 22, Number 2, 1 September 2006 ,
pp. 173-187(15)
http://www.ingentaconnect.com/content/mhra/pst/2006/00000022
/00000002/art00002;jsessionid=10axloblita2n.alice?
Appendix I
This chart gives the first stanza of the
poem, but only the new material for each succeeding stanza. The
word alva is repeated 12 times in a 112-word poem; on the
average, each word in the poem is repeated almost four times.
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1. Levantou ss a velida / levantou ss
alva / e vay lavar camisas / eno alto / vay las
lavar alva;
2 ** ** ** ** louçana / ** ** ** / ** ** ** delgadas /
** ** / ** ** ** **
3 ** ** ** / ** ** ** / o vẽto
lhas desvia / ** ** / ** ** ** **
4 ** ** ** ** / ** ** ** / ** ** **
** levava / ** ** / ** ** ** **
5 ** ** ** ** ** / ** ** ** / meteu
ss alva en hira / ** ** / ** ** ** **
6 ** ** ** *** / ** ** ** / ** ** **
** sanha / ** ** / ** ** ** **.
|
Appendix II
It's time to repeat my standard grumble about
academic writing and publishing. Cohen's book has been invaluable to
me, but it's not really accessible for someone who doesn't have a
pretty good reading knowledge of Portuguese-Galician, as well as a
rudimentary knowledge, at least, of structuralist poetics.
Cohen gives a lot of attention to questions of genre which are only
of academic interest, and only to those academics who are interested in
producing a cross-cultural structuralist theory of literature.
Like
Cao Chi and
Aloysius Bertrand,
Dom Dinis is a distinctive, powerful poet whose work is almost
unknown in the English-speaking world. Cohen could have written a much better book which
included everything in this book, but which added 50-100 pages
including more complete translations of the poems, helpful
comments on their language, and background information on Dom Dinis, the
Galician-Portuguese school of poetry, and the delightful cancions
d'amigo genre. His scholarly achievement would have been in no
way diminished by these additions, but non-specialist readers would also have a book
introducing them to the poet Dom Dinis, who deserves a bigger
audience than he as yet has had. There is no good reason the better book was not written.
As always, I excuse Cohen personally, subject to correction,
on the grounds that this is probably the write-up of his
dissertation. PhD candidates are of unfree status, like serfs and
helots, and they cannot be held entirely responsible for their
actions. The problem lies with the academic establishment,
which enforces toxic methodological rules banning appreciation,
popularization, and humanism from literary studies.
Appendix III
Silmarrillion at
Après moi le deluge
(a wonderful site for anyone interested in literature, especially
early Romance-language literature) has
linked and has given me some new information.
Here and
here are two excellent sites dealing with the jarchas (kharjas
above) -- the original texts are included.
Here is a pdf of an earlier poem by Pero Meogo upon which Dom
Dinis drew. (Here
is the html version). In this poem a deer surprises the girl, instead
of the wind doing so. To me the king's poem is much subtler, more
delicate, less formulaic, less predictable, and more mysterious than
Pero's.
Here is a fascinating piece about the role of deer in pagan
ceremonies -- tending toward orgy -- which survived into the Christian
era. Deer play a sexual role in Chinese and Mongol symbolism too,
though in Asia the deer seems to be female, whereas the European
deer seem to be stags. (The most ancient Mongol ancestor was a
fallow doe
married to a grey wolf.)
Pero Meogo:
Levóus'a louçana
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Levóus'a louçana,
levóus’a velida,
vai lavar cabelos
na fontana fría,
leda dos amores,
dos amores leda.
Levóus’a velida,
levóus’a louçana,
vai lavar cabelos
na fría fontana,
leda dos amores,
dos amores leda.
Vai lavar cabelos
na fontana fría,
passou seu amigo
que lhi ben quería,
leda dos amores,
dos amores leda.
Vai lavar cabelos
na fría fontana,
passa seu amigo
que muit’a amava,
leda dos amores,
dos amores leda.
Passa seu amigo
que lhi ben quería,
o cervo do monte
a augua volvía,
leda dos amores,
dos amores leda.
Passa seu amigo
que muito amava
o cervo do monte
volvía a augua,
leda dos amores,
dos amores leda
In the wilds there is a dead doe (Shih Ching #23)
In the wilds there is a dead doe;
With white rushes we cover her.
There was a lady longing for the spring;
A fair knight seduced her.
In the woods there is a clump of
oaks,
And in the wilds a dead deer
With white rushes well bound;
There was a lady fair as jade.
"Heigh, not so hasty, not so rough;
Heigh, do not touch my handkerchief.
Take care, or the dog will bark."
The Shih Ching is the
oldest Chinese poetry collection, and it has had a
canonical role for 2500 years or more. It is thought
that the present collection has been adapted to
Confucian specifications from an earlier body of work
which was more erotic and less puritanical; the last
three lines are thought to be in the voice of the girl,
who (during the pre-Confucian age) was quite happy to be
seduced .
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I am emersonj at gmail dot com.
Original materials copyright John J
Emerson
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