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Imitations
Not quite translations--yet something much more, much richer, than mere tributes to their original versions--the poems in Imitations reflect Lowell's conceptual, historical, literary, and aesthetic engagements with a diverse range of voices from the Western canon. Moving chronologically from Homer to Pasternak--and including such master poets en route as Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Rilke, and Montale--the fascinating and hugely informed pieces in this book are themselves meant to be read as "a whole," according to Lowell's telling Introduction, "a single volume, a small anthology of European poetry."
149 pages, Paperback
First published October 15, 1984
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About the author
Robert Lowell
182 books269 followersRobert Lowell, born Robert Traill Spence Lowell, IV, was an American poet whose works, confessional in nature, engaged with the questions of history and probed the dark recesses of the self. He is generally considered to be among the greatest American poets of the twentieth century.
His first and second books, Land of Unlikeness (1944) and Lord Weary's Castle (for which he received a Pulitzer Prize in 1947, at the age of thirty), were influenced by his conversion from Episcopalianism to Catholicism and explored the dark side of America's Puritan legacy.
Under the influence of Allen Tate and the New Critics, he wrote rigorously formal poetry that drew praise for its exceptionally powerful handling of meter and rhyme. Lowell was politically involved—he became a conscientious objector during the Second World War and was imprisoned as a result, and actively protested against the war in Vietnam—and his personal life was full of marital and psychological turmoil. He suffered from severe episodes of manic depression, for which he was repeatedly hospitalized.
Partly in response to his frequent breakdowns, and partly due to the influence of such younger poets as W. D. Snodgrass and Allen Ginsberg, Lowell in the mid-fifties began to write more directly from personal experience, and loosened his adherence to traditional meter and form. The result was a watershed collection, Life Studies (1959), which forever changed the landscape of modern poetry, much as Eliot's The Waste Land had three decades before.
Considered by many to be the most important poet in English of the second half of the twentieth century, Lowell continued to develop his work with sometimes uneven results, all along defining the restless center of American poetry, until his sudden death from a heart attack at age 60. Robert Lowell served as a Chancellor of The Academy of American Poets from 1962 until his death in 1977.
His first and second books, Land of Unlikeness (1944) and Lord Weary's Castle (for which he received a Pulitzer Prize in 1947, at the age of thirty), were influenced by his conversion from Episcopalianism to Catholicism and explored the dark side of America's Puritan legacy.
Under the influence of Allen Tate and the New Critics, he wrote rigorously formal poetry that drew praise for its exceptionally powerful handling of meter and rhyme. Lowell was politically involved—he became a conscientious objector during the Second World War and was imprisoned as a result, and actively protested against the war in Vietnam—and his personal life was full of marital and psychological turmoil. He suffered from severe episodes of manic depression, for which he was repeatedly hospitalized.
Partly in response to his frequent breakdowns, and partly due to the influence of such younger poets as W. D. Snodgrass and Allen Ginsberg, Lowell in the mid-fifties began to write more directly from personal experience, and loosened his adherence to traditional meter and form. The result was a watershed collection, Life Studies (1959), which forever changed the landscape of modern poetry, much as Eliot's The Waste Land had three decades before.
Considered by many to be the most important poet in English of the second half of the twentieth century, Lowell continued to develop his work with sometimes uneven results, all along defining the restless center of American poetry, until his sudden death from a heart attack at age 60. Robert Lowell served as a Chancellor of The Academy of American Poets from 1962 until his death in 1977.
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
August 21, 2019
Lowell’s title comes from Dryden’s “Preface to Ovid’s Epistles” (1680), his threefold distinction between metaphrase, paraphrase and imitation; the first is word-for-word, while paraphrase takes liberties, and imitation “takes only some general hints from the Original.” He cites the metaphysical poet Cowley’s odes from Pindar and Horace as imitations, changing the classical poets to “newfound methods and to compounds strange,” as Shakespeare’s sonnet 76 describes a metaphysical poet. (See my “This Critical Age” on poetic criticism in 17C poetry. Dryden changed crits to prose.)
Lowell translates fairly closely, so I would classify this book as Dryden’s “Paraphrase,” though to us, paraphrase sounds even further from the original. I don’t have Greek and German, but I do have French, Italian, Latin and Russian. I have translated a few of the poems in this book, from Leopardi’s “L’Infinito,” to Rimbaud’s “Bateau Ivre,” and Baudelaire’s “Au lecteur” — even Russian poets like Pasternak, though he was never on my shelf like Pushkin (my model for my recent book, “Parodies Lost”—see Facebook.) Baudelaire’s “Recueillement,” also, see below, after the original,
“Sois sage, ô ma Douleur, et tiens-tois plus tranquille…”
Lowell has it so, his title metaphrase, “Meditation”:
“Calm down, Sorrow, we must move with care;
You call for evening, it descends; it’s here.
The town is coffined in its atmosphere,
Bringing relief to some, to others, care.
Look, the dead years dressed
In old clothes crowd the balconies of the sky.
Regret emerges smiling from the sea,
The sick sun slumbers underneath an arch
…listen, my Dearest, hear the sweet night march!”(54*)
I have “imitated” by taking more liberties than Lowell, adapting the title to 20C America,
calling Meditation, “The Blues”:
Blues, be cool, keep quiet, you mutha,
Intruder, second-story man, you enter with dusk,
It descends. It's here, an atmosphere
Surrounds the town. Builds some up, knocks me down.
…Blues, take my hand,
Come from them, come here. Look behind me
At the defunct years, at the balconies
Of heaven; in tattered copes, rise out
Of the waters of Regret. The sun sleeps
Moribund on a buttress; and listen,
My true-blues, hear dusk's sweet steps.
Baudelaire begins “Fleurs du Mal” by addressing me, his Reader, as his Brother…Hypocrite! “Hypocrite lecteur,— mon semblable,—mon frère!” This, quite a departure from the previous century’s flattering references to Dear Reader. He complains that worse than the worst monster, poison, scorpion or snake is: Ennui. Pushkin, too complains about boredom, скучно. Did the Russians import it along with the French of their aristocracy, from their birth-culture, Marie Antoinette’s Empire France?
Bateau Ivre is now a restaurant in Berkeley, and a wine store in NYC, though anyone who has read Rimbaud’s teenage poem would be appalled to buy wine from a boat whose passengers had been massacred. (Great idea to name a wine or hardware store Sandy Hook?)
Leopardi’s “L’Infinito” recalls for me Pascal, “Le silence eternel des ces espaces infinis m’effraie” (“Pensées” 1657), but Leopardi welcomes infinite space, though his poem concludes, “questa immensità s’annega il pensier mio,” this immensity drowns my thought, happy to be drowned in “this sweet sea.” Lowell has this,
“It’s sweet to destroy my mind
And go down
And wreck in this sea where I drown.”(25)
Sometimes Lowell adapts, say Pasternak’s “По залитой зарей дороге,” “dawn-filled road” in Mephistopheles, to “sunset-watered road,” exchanging dawn for its opposite. (135) Unclear why, maybe because we don’t think of the Devil at dawn, though the Russians seem to see Luck and Bad Luck at all times of day, of week, of year, and of life.
*Pagination from the Farrar, Straus edition: NY, 1978.
Lowell translates fairly closely, so I would classify this book as Dryden’s “Paraphrase,” though to us, paraphrase sounds even further from the original. I don’t have Greek and German, but I do have French, Italian, Latin and Russian. I have translated a few of the poems in this book, from Leopardi’s “L’Infinito,” to Rimbaud’s “Bateau Ivre,” and Baudelaire’s “Au lecteur” — even Russian poets like Pasternak, though he was never on my shelf like Pushkin (my model for my recent book, “Parodies Lost”—see Facebook.) Baudelaire’s “Recueillement,” also, see below, after the original,
“Sois sage, ô ma Douleur, et tiens-tois plus tranquille…”
Lowell has it so, his title metaphrase, “Meditation”:
“Calm down, Sorrow, we must move with care;
You call for evening, it descends; it’s here.
The town is coffined in its atmosphere,
Bringing relief to some, to others, care.
Look, the dead years dressed
In old clothes crowd the balconies of the sky.
Regret emerges smiling from the sea,
The sick sun slumbers underneath an arch
…listen, my Dearest, hear the sweet night march!”(54*)
I have “imitated” by taking more liberties than Lowell, adapting the title to 20C America,
calling Meditation, “The Blues”:
Blues, be cool, keep quiet, you mutha,
Intruder, second-story man, you enter with dusk,
It descends. It's here, an atmosphere
Surrounds the town. Builds some up, knocks me down.
…Blues, take my hand,
Come from them, come here. Look behind me
At the defunct years, at the balconies
Of heaven; in tattered copes, rise out
Of the waters of Regret. The sun sleeps
Moribund on a buttress; and listen,
My true-blues, hear dusk's sweet steps.
Baudelaire begins “Fleurs du Mal” by addressing me, his Reader, as his Brother…Hypocrite! “Hypocrite lecteur,— mon semblable,—mon frère!” This, quite a departure from the previous century’s flattering references to Dear Reader. He complains that worse than the worst monster, poison, scorpion or snake is: Ennui. Pushkin, too complains about boredom, скучно. Did the Russians import it along with the French of their aristocracy, from their birth-culture, Marie Antoinette’s Empire France?
Bateau Ivre is now a restaurant in Berkeley, and a wine store in NYC, though anyone who has read Rimbaud’s teenage poem would be appalled to buy wine from a boat whose passengers had been massacred. (Great idea to name a wine or hardware store Sandy Hook?)
Leopardi’s “L’Infinito” recalls for me Pascal, “Le silence eternel des ces espaces infinis m’effraie” (“Pensées” 1657), but Leopardi welcomes infinite space, though his poem concludes, “questa immensità s’annega il pensier mio,” this immensity drowns my thought, happy to be drowned in “this sweet sea.” Lowell has this,
“It’s sweet to destroy my mind
And go down
And wreck in this sea where I drown.”(25)
Sometimes Lowell adapts, say Pasternak’s “По залитой зарей дороге,” “dawn-filled road” in Mephistopheles, to “sunset-watered road,” exchanging dawn for its opposite. (135) Unclear why, maybe because we don’t think of the Devil at dawn, though the Russians seem to see Luck and Bad Luck at all times of day, of week, of year, and of life.
*Pagination from the Farrar, Straus edition: NY, 1978.
May 29, 2018
“ ...You must die,
And die and die and die, until the blood
of Hellas and Patroklos is avenged,
killed by the running ships when I was gone.”
Homer, Iliad
“It's sweet to destroy my mind
and go down
and wreck in this sea where I drown.”
Leopardi, L-infinito
“Your restlessness makes me think
of migratory birds diving at a lighthouse
on an ugly night--
even your ennui is a whirlwind,
circling invisibly--
the let-ups non-existent.
I don't know how, so pressed, you've stood up
to that puddle of diffidence, your heart.”
Montale, Dora Markus
I decided to read this because I bought some other of Lowell's books recently and thought I would use that as an excuse to read the one book of his I already had. I'm a little familiar with Lowell's poetry, but this is the first entire book I've read. And I was worried this would be a bad one because it's translations but I'll say that I don't think it was. He says in the foreward that his “translations” are not translations in the strictest sense-he moves lines around, he adds stanzas-but his goal is not particularly to add something completely new and innovative but to translate the tone in a new setting and context. Once you get accustomed to that, I think it's clear Lowell succeeds marvelously with this collection. However I have some reservations both in style and translation.
The first is just a matter of preference. I wasn't crazy about all the poets Lowell translated, or particular poems (and I should really put this in terms of the individual poems because for many of them it was my first time actually reading their poetry). Some of the early German poets, Villon, Baudelaire weren't my thing. Although I did get a sense of Baudelaire's poetry, which was fun in it's own way. Pasternak was so-so although since I actually have read some Akmatova, the poem “For Anna Akmatova” was really good.
The second thing was the idea that Lowell was going for here with his imitations. It's definitely cool, but it also undermines the very notion of translation. Okay it doesn't really. If I had anything to say it would be that Lowell's poetic project succeeds. But I also feel the need to point out that if you don't know the original, then you're not getting all of what Lowell is doing with these translations. Right, that's probably obvious. For the Homer and Sappho translations I looked back at the originals after I read Lowell's and it seemed to me he did a decent job at translating. In the Iliad passage he cleverly adds “heel” to Achilles inevitable death and triples the repetition of die where there is only one die in the Iliad. Both are features of his poem that add a level of meaning for the reader not necessarily found in a more literal translation. And clearly that is what translation is, translation is hardly ever a strictly literal enterprise. But this is poetry and poetry is the realm of infinity.
So what are Lowell's imitations? They're translations. And good ones! But they also have a lil extra sometimes. And unless you read the original, you might never know. But you'll also get a Lowellized version of it. A complete poetic work itself put in another context-the context of Robert Lowell and whatever you happen to know about his circle of poetry and things in general.
Baudelaire was interesting to see for the first time; I had no idea how much of a pessimist he was. I feel though that, it's sort of his thing, perhaps my ignorance is showing. The other poets I wanted to point out were...Montale. He does a great job with Montale. In “The Eel” he actually accidentally adds a second unrelated poem as a second part, but the new intertext between the poems is actually really cool. (Thanks to Muldoon's The End of the Poem, for that piece of info). I like his Rilke a lot too, especially “Orpheus, Eurydice, and Hermes.” The last poem is Rilke's “Pigeons”, which he dedicates to Hannah Arendt. The other poem that really caught my eye was Leopardi's “L'infinito.”
His Sappho is...not bad. Read Anne Carson instead though. Just trust me.
I got the impression that Lowell knows his stuff even if he doesn't know all the languages he's translating fluently. And I think there's also enough of Lowell's own character and style in his imitations that that part of the poetic project succeeds as well. We have a unity of style and skilled translation.
I'd recommend this to...people who are more interested in reading Robert Lowell more than any of the poets he translates. This is a work unto itself and not a replacement for the originals it despoils (harvests!).
One last thing: my edition has this really cool drawing that is a swirl of jagged pen marks that create the outline of a human like figure stretching out in the form of a tree almost like a dryad distorted in mid-transformation surrounded by black and white cross-hatching. Props to Frank Parker.
And die and die and die, until the blood
of Hellas and Patroklos is avenged,
killed by the running ships when I was gone.”
Homer, Iliad
“It's sweet to destroy my mind
and go down
and wreck in this sea where I drown.”
Leopardi, L-infinito
“Your restlessness makes me think
of migratory birds diving at a lighthouse
on an ugly night--
even your ennui is a whirlwind,
circling invisibly--
the let-ups non-existent.
I don't know how, so pressed, you've stood up
to that puddle of diffidence, your heart.”
Montale, Dora Markus
I decided to read this because I bought some other of Lowell's books recently and thought I would use that as an excuse to read the one book of his I already had. I'm a little familiar with Lowell's poetry, but this is the first entire book I've read. And I was worried this would be a bad one because it's translations but I'll say that I don't think it was. He says in the foreward that his “translations” are not translations in the strictest sense-he moves lines around, he adds stanzas-but his goal is not particularly to add something completely new and innovative but to translate the tone in a new setting and context. Once you get accustomed to that, I think it's clear Lowell succeeds marvelously with this collection. However I have some reservations both in style and translation.
The first is just a matter of preference. I wasn't crazy about all the poets Lowell translated, or particular poems (and I should really put this in terms of the individual poems because for many of them it was my first time actually reading their poetry). Some of the early German poets, Villon, Baudelaire weren't my thing. Although I did get a sense of Baudelaire's poetry, which was fun in it's own way. Pasternak was so-so although since I actually have read some Akmatova, the poem “For Anna Akmatova” was really good.
The second thing was the idea that Lowell was going for here with his imitations. It's definitely cool, but it also undermines the very notion of translation. Okay it doesn't really. If I had anything to say it would be that Lowell's poetic project succeeds. But I also feel the need to point out that if you don't know the original, then you're not getting all of what Lowell is doing with these translations. Right, that's probably obvious. For the Homer and Sappho translations I looked back at the originals after I read Lowell's and it seemed to me he did a decent job at translating. In the Iliad passage he cleverly adds “heel” to Achilles inevitable death and triples the repetition of die where there is only one die in the Iliad. Both are features of his poem that add a level of meaning for the reader not necessarily found in a more literal translation. And clearly that is what translation is, translation is hardly ever a strictly literal enterprise. But this is poetry and poetry is the realm of infinity.
So what are Lowell's imitations? They're translations. And good ones! But they also have a lil extra sometimes. And unless you read the original, you might never know. But you'll also get a Lowellized version of it. A complete poetic work itself put in another context-the context of Robert Lowell and whatever you happen to know about his circle of poetry and things in general.
Baudelaire was interesting to see for the first time; I had no idea how much of a pessimist he was. I feel though that, it's sort of his thing, perhaps my ignorance is showing. The other poets I wanted to point out were...Montale. He does a great job with Montale. In “The Eel” he actually accidentally adds a second unrelated poem as a second part, but the new intertext between the poems is actually really cool. (Thanks to Muldoon's The End of the Poem, for that piece of info). I like his Rilke a lot too, especially “Orpheus, Eurydice, and Hermes.” The last poem is Rilke's “Pigeons”, which he dedicates to Hannah Arendt. The other poem that really caught my eye was Leopardi's “L'infinito.”
His Sappho is...not bad. Read Anne Carson instead though. Just trust me.
I got the impression that Lowell knows his stuff even if he doesn't know all the languages he's translating fluently. And I think there's also enough of Lowell's own character and style in his imitations that that part of the poetic project succeeds as well. We have a unity of style and skilled translation.
I'd recommend this to...people who are more interested in reading Robert Lowell more than any of the poets he translates. This is a work unto itself and not a replacement for the originals it despoils (harvests!).
One last thing: my edition has this really cool drawing that is a swirl of jagged pen marks that create the outline of a human like figure stretching out in the form of a tree almost like a dryad distorted in mid-transformation surrounded by black and white cross-hatching. Props to Frank Parker.
October 21, 2010
Love his Rimbaud translations.
July 23, 2011
Reading this collection of poems was an interesting exposure to a group of European poets who wrote in languages other than English. Poet Lowell called them "imitations", as he did not intend them to be considered strict translations, but instead a re-creation of each as he imagined the poets would have written them in English and in these times. So free of the restraints of rhyming, meter, and at times the original objects of specific references, Lowell took liberties which he hoped would make each more meaningful to today's American reader.
The collection includes works by the likes of Rilke, Montale, Baudelaire, Pasternak, and Rimbaud, and I appreciated the opportunity to experience the poetry of these celebrated literary figures. I did wonder at times, however, where their creativity ended and that of Lowell began. His selection included poems with some mythological or historical references, but not to a degree that discouraged me from doing some quick research to more fully appreciate their significance.
While not one of these poems will stand out long in my mind, they provoked numerous images and thoughts that have enhanced my overall perception of European cultural diversity over the recent centuries.
The collection includes works by the likes of Rilke, Montale, Baudelaire, Pasternak, and Rimbaud, and I appreciated the opportunity to experience the poetry of these celebrated literary figures. I did wonder at times, however, where their creativity ended and that of Lowell began. His selection included poems with some mythological or historical references, but not to a degree that discouraged me from doing some quick research to more fully appreciate their significance.
While not one of these poems will stand out long in my mind, they provoked numerous images and thoughts that have enhanced my overall perception of European cultural diversity over the recent centuries.
Read
August 4, 2025I need to reread this before I rate it. I get the impression that Lowell has somehow captured that dreamy feeling of reading in another language in native English, but he could be just bad at his job
October 4, 2018
as i was reading this i tried to take them at face value because i fully understand that these are not translations but lowell’s imitations (hence the title)
for what it was worth i was impressed with lowell’s ability to create a rather cohesive voice that carried through the anthology and while, yes, he did some Heavy editing, the end result was quite nice
for what it was worth i was impressed with lowell’s ability to create a rather cohesive voice that carried through the anthology and while, yes, he did some Heavy editing, the end result was quite nice
December 10, 2017
Skipped big chunks of this: most of Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Pasternak, Montale. Some decent versions of Rilke as well as the earlier translations.
March 23, 2024
this was so incredible, a bit long but i’m glad i got introduced to some more non-english poets and got to indulge in lowell’s genius once again
September 16, 2018
Terminei de ler 'Imitations', do Robert Lowell (1917-1977), pra minha aula de Tradução Literária. E... Uau... O livro foi publicado originalmente em 1961. Lowell traduziu para o inglês poemas de 18 escritores (começando por Homero e Safo, passando por Victor Hugo, Baudelaire, Mallarmé, Rilke e Ungaretti, e terminando com Boris Pasternak). Eu não concordo completamente com a "filosofia" de Lowell, que se dava total liberdade para traduzir as obras priorizando o tom, não o significado. Lowell - que era poeta - não faz uma tradução ao pé da letra; ele corta e reorganiza estrofes e/ou versos, muda completamente títulos... É maluco, mas muito coerente. Lowell escreve na introdução que pensa o livro como "uma voz correndo por meio de muitas personalidades, contrastes e repetições" e que faz o que esses autores "teriam feito se eles escrevessem seus poemas agora (anos 1950/começo dos anos 1960) e nos Estados Unidos".
.
.
I finished reading 'Imitations' by Robert Lowell (1917-1977) for my Literary Translation class. And... Wow... The book was first published in 1961. Lowell translated to English poems by 18 authors (starting with Homer and Sappho; passing by Victor Hugo, Baudelaire, Mallarmé, Rilke, and Ungaretti; and ending with Boris Pasternak). I don't agree completely with Lowell's "philosophy", who gave himself total freedom to translate the works, making tone a priority instead of meaning. Lowell – who was a poet himself – doesn't do a literal, metrical translation. He cuts off and rearranges stanzas and/or verses, changes the titles completely... It's crazy, but very coherent. In the introduction, Lowell writes that he sees the book as "one voice running through many personalities, contrasts, and repetitions", and that he does what those authors "might have done if they were writing their poems now (1950s/early 1960s) and in America."
.
.
I finished reading 'Imitations' by Robert Lowell (1917-1977) for my Literary Translation class. And... Wow... The book was first published in 1961. Lowell translated to English poems by 18 authors (starting with Homer and Sappho; passing by Victor Hugo, Baudelaire, Mallarmé, Rilke, and Ungaretti; and ending with Boris Pasternak). I don't agree completely with Lowell's "philosophy", who gave himself total freedom to translate the works, making tone a priority instead of meaning. Lowell – who was a poet himself – doesn't do a literal, metrical translation. He cuts off and rearranges stanzas and/or verses, changes the titles completely... It's crazy, but very coherent. In the introduction, Lowell writes that he sees the book as "one voice running through many personalities, contrasts, and repetitions", and that he does what those authors "might have done if they were writing their poems now (1950s/early 1960s) and in America."
January 29, 2018
Interesting to watch a good poet find inspiration in the global poetic tradition from ancient Greeks to modern Russians. My class spent some time discussing whether Lowell's approach was "imperialistic" -- e.g., rewriting over the top of a lesser-known foreign poet's actual words, loosely inspired by an amalgamation of other translators, and then calling it a translation. Seems like a bit of a waste of discussion to me, because translation is more an act of love, an homage to something other, and I don't see how anyone can complain about Lowell's desire to imitate foreign poets. You can, however, feel free to criticize Lowell's errors: apparently he butchered Machado's "The Eel" by squashing it together with the untitled poem which followed directly after it... c'est la vie when you don't know the original language, I suppose.
July 1, 2023
i think, unfortunately, i have to be a snob about this, and say that it is really hard to get the most out of this book if you haven't read the originals in their original languages (i've only really competently accomplished that with the French poems here). if literature could ever be considered a joint effort between writer and reader, this would be the Platonic form. at minimum it offers a great perspective on how Lowell (a poet in my personal pantheon) read and engaged with the writers he considered masters
November 3, 2025
“The clapping stops. I walk into the lights
as Hamlet, lounge like a student against the door-frame,
and try to catch the far-off dissonance of life—
all that has happened, and must! […]”
Lowell / Pasternak. “Hamlet in Russia, A Soliloquy”
as Hamlet, lounge like a student against the door-frame,
and try to catch the far-off dissonance of life—
all that has happened, and must! […]”
Lowell / Pasternak. “Hamlet in Russia, A Soliloquy”
April 19, 2023
A collection of my fave poets all translated quite liberally putting style over accuracy. I will not forgive how badly he butchered Sappho though. IT IS TRANSALTED AS LUST NOT LOVE do not make Sappho saccharine and sentimental! Also Sappho is a LESBIAN not a heterosexual woman. Thank you.
August 7, 2012
A great talent but I only sometimes was transported. I admit, but maybe do not get, that probably the fault lies more with me, the reader. Partly I chafed at the bit of the requirements of this difficult poetry and did not give the poems enough slow readings. Everything in our world seems set for speed now and a poem requires pause and rereadings multiple times. Some poems I still feel like a fond kiss from, granted, a melancholic lover, are the translations of Giacomo Leopardi, some Baudelaire, not really any Rimbaud, probably all the Rilke, grudgingly some Pasternak. I love this stark translation of a Victor Hugo poem (even though I have low regard for Hugo's life):
http://www.dl.ket.org/humanities/lite...
Lowell's vision is mostly dark, with roots and jungle, memory of God, a keener than most and persistent awareness of mortality, a floundering, sometimes drowning darkness, but a heavy realism, if not enough to bear the sun at times.
http://www.dl.ket.org/humanities/lite...
Lowell's vision is mostly dark, with roots and jungle, memory of God, a keener than most and persistent awareness of mortality, a floundering, sometimes drowning darkness, but a heavy realism, if not enough to bear the sun at times.
Read
July 20, 2025As Lowell says, this is not a book of translations understood as sameness of meaning, but understood as sameness of tone. There are plenty of fascinating poems in here, impressive in their own right as the voice of Lowell (sometimes in his more famous confessional voice but taking on the stories of other poets which I found just crazy good) but they are meant to convey what Lowell saw as the core of the non-English originals. As both a retelling of the originals and a continuation of Lowell’s work, this was a gripping book of poems.
My favourites were those originally by Leopardi, Rilke, and Montale.
My favourites were those originally by Leopardi, Rilke, and Montale.
July 25, 2007
this inspired me to write "limitations" a poem abt the limitations of writing confessional poetry post-lowell. (maybe kinda similar to the point of this book, lowell thinking he could only produce imitations of villon etc instead of his own versions/translations?) i wrote most of my poem at a cafe called badde manors in glebe, sydney. fond memories of that cafe, not so much of the bad manners of the city. grown out of lowell now, but nothing then excited me more than rereading life studies.
November 15, 2022
I love Cal, and I think his translations are vivid even if they aren't technically right. He had sensibility, and he knew about writing poetry, so he kind of just sort of figured it out from available texts and more or less felt his way through by intuition. I'm sure that would send plenty of pros up a wall, but I was intrigued by what I found here.
September 7, 2016
I registered a book at BookCrossing.com!
http://www.BookCrossing.com/journal/14185726
http://www.BookCrossing.com/journal/14185726
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews