Poetry by Robert Bly (Stealing Sugar from the Castle)

In his numerous roles as groundbreaking poet, editor, translator, storyteller, and father of what he has called "the expressive men's movement," Bly remains one of the most hotly debated American artists of the past half century. What is it about
Bly and his ideas that inspires such impassioned responses from readers and associates? The psychologist Robert Moore believes that "When the cultural and intellectual history of our time is written, Robert Bly will be recognized as the catalyst for a sweeping cultural revolution." And literary critic Charles Molesworth suggests that some of Bly's importance and complication lies in the fact that he "writes religious meditations for a public that is no longer ostensibly religious."
In our Moving Poetry Series we have reached back in time and gathered wisdom sayings from great poets, film from great cinematographers and sounds from gifted musicians and created a complex brew that nourishes the soul as it stimulates the mind. Designed to challenge, provoke and inspire, these poetry films hit on a broad spectrum of social, political and spiritual issues. Each poem has been crafted into a short film with its own unique image set and soundtrack. Mixing original footage with obscure gems from far and wide, you will be transported into a world of possibilities.
POEM
We are poor students who stay after school to study joy.
We are like those birds in the India mountains.
I am a widow whose child is her only joy.
The only thing I hold in my ant-like head
Is the builder’s plan of the castle of sugar.
Just to steal one grain of sugar is a joy!
Like a bird, we fly out of darkness into the hall,
Which is lit with singing, then fly out again.
Being shut out of the warm hall is also a joy.
I am a laggard, a loafer, and an idiot. But I love
To read about those who caught one glimpse
Of the face, and died twenty years later in joy.
I don’t mind your saying I will die soon.
Even in the sound of the word soon, I hear
The word you which begins every sentence of joy.
“You’re a thief!” the judge said. “Let’s see
Your hands!” I showed my callused hands in court.
My sentence was a thousand years of joy.
Written and Recited by Robert Bly
Footage: Various
Music:
Piccolo Porto / Composers: Oldroyd Peter; Scargill, Gary
APM Music
A Four Seasons Production - www.4spFilm.com
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