Walt Whitman

I have a degree in English; which means I can quote Chaucer while asking if you'd like fries with that.  I love the poetry of Walt Whitman and last night I went to an ALOUD program at Central Library that was called "Song of Myself: Walt Whitman in Other Words"  I should have read the scope of the program more carefully, I thought it was a discussion of his work.  What it WAS, was three poets reading, one in English, one in Spanish and one in Persian.  This is part of n International Writing Program, where the poem was translated, in 52 parts into Persian to give Iranians an introduction to America's greatest poet.  Upon reading what it was, and since Chris couldn't join me and I would be by myself, I had planned to sit close to the door and slip out if it got too weird, but the fates conspired against me.   I was joined, while waiting on a bench, by a delightful engaging writer, whose pen name is CW Moss.  We had a lively conversation (at times I felt I was being interviewed!) and we went into the Taper together ( The auditorium at Central Library is called "The Taper" by staff, I forget which Taper it's named after)

Louise Steinman introduced the three poets, Luis Alberto Ambroggio, Christopher Merrill, and Sholeh Wolpè.  There was also musical accompaniment by Sahba Motallebi, playing traditional Persian music.   Louise gave a bit of advice that really helped me to appreciate the work.  She said that if we did not speak the language, we should simply relax and let the sound of the words wash over us.  Since so much or "Song of Myself" uses repetition to gather the cadence, I found myself listening for the repeated word in each presentation.  Did I drift off?  Yes, but I think that was due in part to the music, which took me other places.  She broke a string in the middle of the performance and I watched her expertly and swiftly restring the instrument to finish with a masterful piece. My seatmate said he didn't even notice.  I think the poets saw what happened and substituted their part of the performance to cover the time she would need.

I have a battered copy of Leaves of Grass that I will take with me this weekend.  I also got a CD, as a well read poem gives insight that just reading it for yourself does not bring out.  The reader put a bit of his soul into reading and shares it with the listener.

In their opening remarks, the poets cited Whitman cited Whitman as being the father of American poetry.  I got to thinking about the poets I had studied and admired.  I thought of T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound. I don't admire their politics, but  their precise use of words moves me and can be traced back to the work of Whitman.  I wonder , as I read him, about the startling themes of politics and sexuality that course through his work.  If he were alive today, Conservatives would mock him for his humanist beliefs and vilify him for his bi-sexuality.  I wonder if they would try to ban the teaching of his work, if they actually read such poems as (my favorite)  " A Woman Waits for Me"  It  made me wonder about the tolerance for ideas that existed 150  years ago and why our society has become so narrow minded.

Merrill directed the audience to visit his webpage, The Whitman Web, for scholarly discussion about the poet and this project.   They all spoke of the joy of discovery in translating the work into another language.  Wolpè insisted that only poets should translate other poets, and I agree to some degree, but take it one step further;  you may never know the poet in your soul until you attempt to translate a work into a language of your own.  The act of discovering the secrets of a major work may uncover more than you realize.