Poetry: September 1, 1939 by W. H. Auden ‖ Michael Sheen

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  • Опубликовано: 7 сен 2024
  • "September 1, 1939" by W. H. Auden
    I sit in one of the dives
    On Fifty-second Street
    Uncertain and afraid
    As the clever hopes expire
    Of a low dishonest decade:
    Waves of anger and fear
    Circulate over the bright
    And darkened lands of the earth,
    Obsessing our private lives;
    The unmentionable odour of death
    Offends the September night.
    Accurate scholarship can
    Unearth the whole offence
    From Luther until now
    That has driven a culture mad,
    Find what occurred at Linz,
    What huge imago made
    A psychopathic god:
    I and the public know
    What all schoolchildren learn,
    Those to whom evil is done
    Do evil in return.
    Exiled Thucydides knew
    All that a speech can say
    About Democracy,
    And what dictators do,
    The elderly rubbish they talk
    To an apathetic grave;
    Analysed all in his book,
    The enlightenment driven away,
    The habit-forming pain,
    Mismanagement and grief:
    We must suffer them all again.
    Into this neutral air
    Where blind skyscrapers use
    Their full height to proclaim
    The strength of Collective Man,
    Each language pours its vain
    Competitive excuse:
    But who can live for long
    In an euphoric dream;
    Out of the mirror they stare,
    Imperialism's face
    And the international wrong.
    Faces along the bar
    Cling to their average day:
    The lights must never go out,
    The music must always play,
    All the conventions conspire
    To make this fort assume
    The furniture of home;
    Lest we should see where we are,
    Lost in a haunted wood,
    Children afraid of the night
    Who have never been happy or good.
    The windiest militant trash
    Important Persons shout
    Is not so crude as our wish:
    What mad Nijinsky wrote
    About Diaghilev
    Is true of the normal heart;
    For the error bred in the bone
    Of each woman and each man
    Craves what it cannot have,
    Not universal love
    But to be loved alone.
    From the conservative dark
    Into the ethical life
    The dense commuters come,
    Repeating their morning vow;
    "I will be true to the wife,
    I'll concentrate more on my work,"
    And helpless governors wake
    To resume their compulsory game:
    Who can release them now,
    Who can reach the deaf,
    Who can speak for the dumb?
    All I have is a voice
    To undo the folded lie,
    The romantic lie in the brain
    Of the sensual man-in-the-street
    And the lie of Authority
    Whose buildings grope the sky:
    There is no such thing as the State
    And no one exists alone;
    Hunger allows no choice
    To the citizen or the police;
    We must love one another or die.
    Defenceless under the night
    Our world in stupor lies;
    Yet, dotted everywhere,
    Ironic points of light
    Flash out wherever the Just
    Exchange their messages:
    May I, composed like them
    Of Eros and of dust,
    Beleaguered by the same
    Negation and despair,
    Show an affirming flame.
    (via Twitter #worldpoetryday)
    ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆
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Комментарии • 24

  • @brendafuller6186
    @brendafuller6186 4 года назад +4

    💖WOW. Thank you Mr. Sheen, thank you very much. I love your voice, love your British accent, wish they'd let you use it on TV. God bless you & your family.

  • @philotimoc904
    @philotimoc904 4 года назад +10

    After listening to various other readings including the famous Dylan Thomas reading, I have settled on this one, the best in my opinion.

  • @nickpremierguns173
    @nickpremierguns173 2 года назад +7

    Its hard to hear a more insightful picture of that impending moment. And read brilliantly

  • @kaziniazahmed4541
    @kaziniazahmed4541 2 года назад +5

    Such a wonderful poem! I can’t fathom why Auden absolutely hated it in his later life! Nothing wrong with the poem.

  • @idecantwellbarnes6707
    @idecantwellbarnes6707 4 года назад +5

    A beautiful speaking of this almost too raw and profoundly powerful and disturbing poem. Thank you.

  • @theonlylunchbox
    @theonlylunchbox 10 месяцев назад +3

    Reminds me of Suheir Hammad's First Writing Since - after 9/11. I often feel I need to commit poems of WH Auden to memory. Michael is brilliant.

    • @Joshua.B.Buzzard
      @Joshua.B.Buzzard 17 дней назад

      It's overwhelming having to memorize every poem I read of Auden.

  • @thegingergyrl455
    @thegingergyrl455 4 года назад +6

    Ah my bonnie Welshman! I love this reading. Thank you for making it available.

    • @okaminess
      @okaminess 3 года назад

      Right!! I want him to do the third Phillip Pullman novel from Book of Dust whenever it comes out!! Already listening to the first one. It's amazing what he's done in audiobooks and radio! I'm there!

  • @chrisstark7038
    @chrisstark7038 6 месяцев назад +2

    Fantastic reading.

  • @carmenbeltran4687
    @carmenbeltran4687 4 года назад +5

    thank you Zsu for this video..Michael is so cute and he's reading with that beautiful british accent...love this!!..
    Carmen

  • @chrisbalay7531
    @chrisbalay7531 4 года назад +3

    Wow, wonderful reading of a powerful poem.

  • @orth82
    @orth82 10 месяцев назад +1

    I felt these words in my soul.

  • @brendafuller6186
    @brendafuller6186 4 года назад +3

    Zsuzsanna, thank you for these! 💖

  • @barbaricamus
    @barbaricamus 3 года назад +3

    "Of each woman and each man
    Craves what it cannot have,
    Not universal love
    But to be loved alone."

  • @TheNovakovicnovak
    @TheNovakovicnovak 4 года назад +6

    'We must love one another or die...' - Auden has thrown away the stanza later in his life due to its dishonesty.

    • @cletereinberger
      @cletereinberger 2 года назад +2

      Yeah I’ve heard about this. I tend to think it is honest and he just didn’t personally believe it. His art transcends him. I must love you and you must love me or we will die. That’s the truth. Who’s to say🤷🏻‍♂️

    • @joelassoko
      @joelassoko 2 года назад +1

      I remember He changed or die to *and* die. Then discarded the whole poem from his collection. Even for such a gifted writer, comes the moment when you have showed too much of what you are, and you try to cover it up, claim it back, to « lie back ».

  • @luciavitale5903
    @luciavitale5903 Год назад +1

    Thank You!

  • @brendafuller6186
    @brendafuller6186 4 года назад +2

    Mar. 22, 2020.

  • @benjaminmaracek535
    @benjaminmaracek535 2 года назад +1

    “February 24, 2022.....

  • @CozmoCreepers1983
    @CozmoCreepers1983 3 года назад +3

    Why can’t I stop watching anything else but his mouth???

    • @poettttt
      @poettttt Год назад

      Because Auden composed poetry for the ear and the mind. It was an aural artform with no visual aspedt to look at.