Ezra Pound was one of the greatest writers of the
past century, a major figure of the modernist movement. There was Yeats, Joyce, Eliot – and Pound.
(Also for ABC Wednesday: "O" is for "orneriness")
I am a poet.
I am one of the greatest of the
modernist movement.
One aspect of my work was to use ancient Chinese poetry as my
source. And in my translations I created
a unique literary style. As an example,
take this poem to a little girl:
“Tree you are, moss you are.
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And
all this is folly to the world.”
I explained my method with
Chinese poetry in this way: “The blossoms of
the apricot blow from the east to the west, and I have tried to keep them from
falling,”
But just when you believed you understood
me, the peaceable poet, I wrote this: ''Modern civilization has bred a race with brains like those of
rabbits and we artists who have been so long the despised are about to take
over control.''
And
for sheer orneriness, this: ''The modern artist must live by craft and violence. His gods
are violent gods.”
So now…
Think on these things. Think on the lightness, the delicacy of my
poetry.
“A child – so high – you are.”
Think how I tried to keep the
Confucian apricot blossoms from falling as they blew from east to west.
And think too…
That you kept me, certainly one
of the greatest poets of the age, locked like a caged animal, in an actual
animal’s cage.
And then answer this.
Who am I?
