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Nothing is Lost: Selected Poems
This is the first comprehensive English-language collection of verse by the most celebrated Slovenian poet of modern times and one of Europe's most notable postwar poets, Edvard Kocbek (1904-1981).
The selections introduce the reader to the full spectrum of Kocbek's long and distinguished career, starting with the pantheist and expressionist nature poems of his early period and continuing through the politically engaged poetry written during and after World War II, to the philosophical and metaphysical meditations of his fecund late period.
Readers will be struck by the originality and freshness of Kocbek's sinewy and intense vision, rendered into fluid and idiomatic English by two experienced translators. The Slovenian texts appear on the facing pages.
The opening stanza of "Moon with a Halo"
The man beside me was killed.
He had a mother who bore him
and a father who made him toys,
he had a brother and a playful uncle
and a little girl with blond braids,
he had a wooden cart and a wooden horse,
a trunkful of colored dreams
and a brook where he used to fish.
The selections introduce the reader to the full spectrum of Kocbek's long and distinguished career, starting with the pantheist and expressionist nature poems of his early period and continuing through the politically engaged poetry written during and after World War II, to the philosophical and metaphysical meditations of his fecund late period.
Readers will be struck by the originality and freshness of Kocbek's sinewy and intense vision, rendered into fluid and idiomatic English by two experienced translators. The Slovenian texts appear on the facing pages.
The opening stanza of "Moon with a Halo"
The man beside me was killed.
He had a mother who bore him
and a father who made him toys,
he had a brother and a playful uncle
and a little girl with blond braids,
he had a wooden cart and a wooden horse,
a trunkful of colored dreams
and a brook where he used to fish.
- GenresPoetry
Hardcover
First published March 16, 2004
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
October 30, 2020
When she stopped at the top of the hill
and turned into my warm wind
she dropped her apron in fright,
it was filled with old houses and trees,
they all rolled down the slope
and formed an indescribable village,
I stepped into the nearest wine cellar
and pierced the wall of huge memory,
I got drunk on odors and aromas,
overpowered by a magic
that unhinged me for half eternity.
I woke very late
and leaned on the wind,
which was still warm,
slowly I filled her apron
with houses, yards, fences, and stables,
with moonlight and hay, sighs and laughter,
and took extra care with the belfry,
to make sure it didn't tinkle too much.
and turned into my warm wind
she dropped her apron in fright,
it was filled with old houses and trees,
they all rolled down the slope
and formed an indescribable village,
I stepped into the nearest wine cellar
and pierced the wall of huge memory,
I got drunk on odors and aromas,
overpowered by a magic
that unhinged me for half eternity.
I woke very late
and leaned on the wind,
which was still warm,
slowly I filled her apron
with houses, yards, fences, and stables,
with moonlight and hay, sighs and laughter,
and took extra care with the belfry,
to make sure it didn't tinkle too much.
September 28, 2015
I feel now, as never before, that
a poem is the condensed power of all human
abilities, and that its ideal lies
in the power of language to transcend itself.
(from 'The Generosity of the Poem')
Edvard Kocbek was a Slovenian poet, soldier, Catholic socialist, and speaker of truth. He was silenced for much of his career because he spoke honestly about what the Slovenian resistance had done during WWII, and his ambivalent feelings about participating in that action. He was a convinced socialist and a believing Catholic, but he didn’t turn a blind eye to the hypocrisy and rigidity of those institutions, which meant he gave up on seminary and could write critically about Yugoslavian politics.
The translators provide a nice introduction to these poems selected from Kocbek’s full career. They explain his modernizing impact on the traditional, folkloristic style of prior Slovenian poetry, while emphasizing that he did, in some ways, continue to celebrate the rural beauties and culture of his country. They also clarify the relationship of some of the poems to political events, although averring that he is not a political poet; indeed there are many love poems here.
On the Russians in Yugoslavia, from ‘Parrots’:
Termites attacked the province,
undermined bridges and stations,
turned beds and tables to dust.
Germs invaded laboratories,
settled on sterilized instruments,
fooling wise men in the process.
It all happened so horribly quietly.
In our case it was a plague of parrots.
Green and yellow, they screeched
in our houses, kitchens, and gardens;
unclean, ravenous, and vulgar,
they invaded our bathrooms and bedrooms
and finally settled in people.
It all happened so horribly loudly.
Finally, the religious poetry, from ‘Prayer’
And though I must say
that I am
and I was
and I shall be,
I am more
than oblivion
immensely more
than negation,
immeasurably more
than nothing.
These are poems that grow on you when re-read. I first read them without the introduction, then read those remarks, and then found a much deeper appreciation the second time through, both from encountering the language and images again, and from understanding more about how his many themes were connected to experience.
a poem is the condensed power of all human
abilities, and that its ideal lies
in the power of language to transcend itself.
(from 'The Generosity of the Poem')
Edvard Kocbek was a Slovenian poet, soldier, Catholic socialist, and speaker of truth. He was silenced for much of his career because he spoke honestly about what the Slovenian resistance had done during WWII, and his ambivalent feelings about participating in that action. He was a convinced socialist and a believing Catholic, but he didn’t turn a blind eye to the hypocrisy and rigidity of those institutions, which meant he gave up on seminary and could write critically about Yugoslavian politics.
The translators provide a nice introduction to these poems selected from Kocbek’s full career. They explain his modernizing impact on the traditional, folkloristic style of prior Slovenian poetry, while emphasizing that he did, in some ways, continue to celebrate the rural beauties and culture of his country. They also clarify the relationship of some of the poems to political events, although averring that he is not a political poet; indeed there are many love poems here.
On the Russians in Yugoslavia, from ‘Parrots’:
Termites attacked the province,
undermined bridges and stations,
turned beds and tables to dust.
Germs invaded laboratories,
settled on sterilized instruments,
fooling wise men in the process.
It all happened so horribly quietly.
In our case it was a plague of parrots.
Green and yellow, they screeched
in our houses, kitchens, and gardens;
unclean, ravenous, and vulgar,
they invaded our bathrooms and bedrooms
and finally settled in people.
It all happened so horribly loudly.
Finally, the religious poetry, from ‘Prayer’
And though I must say
that I am
and I was
and I shall be,
I am more
than oblivion
immensely more
than negation,
immeasurably more
than nothing.
These are poems that grow on you when re-read. I first read them without the introduction, then read those remarks, and then found a much deeper appreciation the second time through, both from encountering the language and images again, and from understanding more about how his many themes were connected to experience.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews