I have been, since birth, my mothers "savage daughter" and at 70, I still am. I will never go gentle into that good night" I live on Lake Superior here in the States and STILL scream at the lake when she's enraged. I'm still here screaming at her when her rage is spent and her winds and waves settle after she is used up. We should all have lived our lives to the best and fullest.
I love your words, and they remind me of my virile youth, when I'd step outside in the morning, look at the Cairngorm mountains and scream at them, issuing a challenge (my neighbours thought I was nuts), i'd set off, run the 26 or so miles and 4000 foot climb, cool down and as you Americans might say "gave the mountains the bird". Now, at close to the end, I am trying to remember how Thomas's poem made me feel. It's a challenge, but each time I hear these words, I am transported back to those feelings of power, agency or just plain passion. Please keep screaming.
an incredible poem. My English teacher was from Wales and became emotional reading it. There is a video of Sir Anthony Hopkins visiting his father's grave in Wales recently, reciting the poem, and he cannot finish it. He becomes too emotional. The poem is primal, in the sense of a great force inside us, pleading with our father not to surrender to death. I am overwhelmed reading it. The other poem of his I am obsessed with - "The force that through the green fuse drives the flower. Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees".....an extraordinary poet
Great. Thanks so much for that. My Welsh form teacher at school spotted 14-year-old me producing verse during a lesson and said it reminded him of Dylan Thomas (in fact, I was trying to imitate Bob Dylan) and procured me a copy of the bard's book from the library. I was taken with it immediately. I especially loved Do Not Go Gentle. My best friend in later years, an Irishman, often used to quote "If I were tickled by the rub of love (which he was, often). And finally, my son is named Dylan, a name that has stood him in good stead in Flanders where we know all live.
I loved this poem. It feels like I just swallowed poison, though! Thank you for the video. I am learning English and sometimes it is very hard for me to understand the meaning of a poem but with your help i can fill the blank spots. Also, this author can use the language to express his thoughts and feelings so well that it inspires to keep learning more and more. You as well. You explain so well. Thank you for the help!
Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit, Les années doivent s’enflammer et tonner à la fin de la journée ; Rage, rage contre la lumière qui s’enfuit. L’homme sage voit bien à la tombée, cette justice infinie ; Mais il comprend ses belles paroles, frêles, étouffées et Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit. Le grand homme face à l’ultime marée, pleure cette vie. Et à tous ses gestes éclatants sans véritable portée, Rage, rage contre la lumière qui s’enfuit. Le bon vivant qui a dansé, chanté et festoyé sans souci, Courtisé chaque instant de soleil sans jamais l’attraper, Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit. L’homme grave près de la mort, aveuglé, honni, Voyant pour la première fois l’incommensurable volupté, Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit. Et toi, père, là sur la dernière colline, le dernier appui ; Maudis-moi, bénis-moi du feu de tes larmes, je suis à tes pieds. Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit. Rage, rage contre la lumière qui s’enfuit.
Isn't it strange that his father does not fit into one of the categories he already identified? This seems to be highlighting the suggestion by the nineteenth century modernists ; that the singular experience of life is more important than the universal experience. We may all be Odysseus with our Lestrygonians and Cyclopes, but the experience of life as Mrs. Smith is the one that is of most value. Nice reading. I like Fern Hill more but I go over this one from time to time as the Good night draws nearer.
Thanks for doing the analysis, but it left me feeling that it missed one plain, simple fact, The poem is intended to evoke a passion for life, to encourage us not to give in and go gracefully into the darkness. In more than 30 years of listening to my English language teacher wife and lover of all things poetry, I've come to feel technical analysis of poems completely misses the mark and can, in fact, take away from the experience.
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I have been, since birth, my mothers "savage daughter" and at 70, I still am. I will never go gentle into that good night" I live on Lake Superior here in the States and STILL scream at the lake when she's enraged. I'm still here screaming at her when her rage is spent and her winds and waves settle after she is used up. We should all have lived our lives to the best and fullest.
I love your words, and they remind me of my virile youth, when I'd step outside in the morning, look at the Cairngorm mountains and scream at them, issuing a challenge (my neighbours thought I was nuts), i'd set off, run the 26 or so miles and 4000 foot climb, cool down and as you Americans might say "gave the mountains the bird".
Now, at close to the end, I am trying to remember how Thomas's poem made me feel. It's a challenge, but each time I hear these words, I am transported back to those feelings of power, agency or just plain passion.
Please keep screaming.
an incredible poem. My English teacher was from Wales and became emotional reading it. There is a video of Sir Anthony Hopkins visiting his father's grave in Wales recently, reciting the poem, and he cannot finish it. He becomes too emotional. The poem is primal, in the sense of a great force inside us, pleading with our father not to surrender to death. I am overwhelmed reading it. The other poem of his I am obsessed with - "The force that through the green fuse drives the flower. Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees".....an extraordinary poet
Thanks for telling me about that. I can absolutely picture the scene.
Great. Thanks so much for that. My Welsh form teacher at school spotted 14-year-old me producing verse during a lesson and said it reminded him of Dylan Thomas (in fact, I was trying to imitate Bob Dylan) and procured me a copy of the bard's book from the library. I was taken with it immediately. I especially loved Do Not Go Gentle. My best friend in later years, an Irishman, often used to quote "If I were tickled by the rub of love (which he was, often). And finally, my son is named Dylan, a name that has stood him in good stead in Flanders where we know all live.
Bob Dylan chose his name from the poet, so I wouldn't be surprised by similarities.
So glad you enjoyed it!
I loved this poem. It feels like I just swallowed poison, though! Thank you for the video. I am learning English and sometimes it is very hard for me to understand the meaning of a poem but with your help i can fill the blank spots. Also, this author can use the language to express his thoughts and feelings so well that it inspires to keep learning more and more. You as well. You explain so well. Thank you for the help!
Glad I could help!
You are amazing
I had a go at writing a Villanelle recently and it took me ages, definitely not an easy form!
That’s one I haven’t tried! Makes me respect the poem more :)
Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit,
Les années doivent s’enflammer et tonner à la fin de la journée ;
Rage, rage contre la lumière qui s’enfuit.
L’homme sage voit bien à la tombée, cette justice infinie ;
Mais il comprend ses belles paroles, frêles, étouffées et
Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit.
Le grand homme face à l’ultime marée, pleure cette vie.
Et à tous ses gestes éclatants sans véritable portée,
Rage, rage contre la lumière qui s’enfuit.
Le bon vivant qui a dansé, chanté et festoyé sans souci,
Courtisé chaque instant de soleil sans jamais l’attraper,
Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit.
L’homme grave près de la mort, aveuglé, honni,
Voyant pour la première fois l’incommensurable volupté,
Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit.
Et toi, père, là sur la dernière colline, le dernier appui ;
Maudis-moi, bénis-moi du feu de tes larmes, je suis à tes pieds.
Ne glisse pas tout bonnement dans la nuit.
Rage, rage contre la lumière qui s’enfuit.
Isn't it strange that his father does not fit into one of the categories he already identified? This seems to be highlighting the suggestion by the nineteenth century modernists ; that the singular experience of life is more important than the universal experience. We may all be Odysseus with our Lestrygonians and Cyclopes, but the experience of life as Mrs. Smith is the one that is of most value. Nice reading. I like Fern Hill more but I go over this one from time to time as the Good night draws nearer.
That’s interesting. Yeah, his father is isolated in the poem itself, which is a totally modernist thing. Good eye!
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears. I read this as Curse OR bless me now. Anything, but don't ignore me.
Thanks for doing the analysis, but it left me feeling that it missed one plain, simple fact, The poem is intended to evoke a passion for life, to encourage us not to give in and go gracefully into the darkness.
In more than 30 years of listening to my English language teacher wife and lover of all things poetry, I've come to feel technical analysis of poems completely misses the mark and can, in fact, take away from the experience.