My friends, Has anyone ever read a poem and wondered what on earth the poet was talking about? I have to tell you that I read one the other day in Granta’s issue 132, one of their old publications. I won’t mention the poem nor the author for the sake of decency,  although it is quite unfortunate that I can’t take back the twenty minutes of reading and agonizing over what I eventually deemed to be literary jargon. I have never really understood those kinds of poems or the need for them. Indeed, there is something intellectually dubious about writing ‘complex’ poems that make no sense to anyone outside the circle of professional poets and ‘literary scholars’.

Perhaps, this could be one of the major reasons for the sad decline in poetry readership among the general public. Yes, it is true that the message of some poems could eventually reveal themselves after intense study and interpretation but at the same time we need to admit that such poems could also mean nothing. Poetry, as I understand it or want to understand it resides in the same emotional landscape as music. Indeed, in ancient Greece, mousike, which translates to music usually meant sung poetry which was used sometimes in transmitting actual knowledge such as the political or military ethos of a polis, as seen for example in the fragments of the Spartan Poet;  Tyrtaeus.  

Yet, in this ancient poems as I will like to emphasize, their messages are clear and the emotions that are invoked upon reading them are felt almost as at the time it was written. If you read the lyric poems of Sappho or Alcaeus, or let’s say closer to our time, the Victorian poets of the nineteenth century, it is almost impossible not to feel the raw emotions transmitted via the clarity of the poem’s language. Indeed, I challenge anyone to read  Ulysses by Lord Tennyson without feeling an ‘odyssey-an’ sense of re-discovery and adventure. Amongst other reasons, this clarity of language is why I’ll always recommend ancient Greek lyrics to anyone remotely interested in poetry. As ever, my favourite texts to recommend will either be Richmond Lattimore’s Greek lyrics or the fragments of poems published in the Loeb classical collection. Lattimore’s collection of poems contains a translation of the original lyric poems from ancient greek to English alongside a short,useful introduction to ancient Greek poetry while Loeb is an infinitely useful resource if you’re interested in reading the English translation of the poems alongside the original works in ancient Greek.

For this essay and my point about the essentiality of clarity in poetry, I will focus on Lattimore’s translated works. Of all the translated poems in Greek lyrics, I have always found the works of the Ionian poet; Xenophanes the most fascinating.  This is mostly for two primary reasons. The first was the medium used by Xenophanes in delivering his poems and the second are the ideas espoused by the philosophically minded poet. I read about the uniqueness of Xenophanes’ medium in a paper written by Herbert Granger, a former professor of Philosophy at Wayne state University, whose thesis revealed that in the sixth and fifth centuries, when some new intellectuals in the Hellenic world had started expressing their ideas about theology, history and philosophy through literary prose, Xenophanes continued to express his ideas through verse (poetry).

This was because Xenophanes found out that Verse still provided significant advantages over literary prose in reaching a mass illiterate audience. As you’ve probably noticed, Xenophanes’ decision to stick with verse aligns perfectly with my argument about the need for clarity in poetic language. Indeed, when reading the poetic fragments of Xenophanes,  what comes across is a fascinating blend of the smoothness of sung verse with the critical nature of ancient philosophy, a combination that made and still makes the ideas in his poems more accessible.

For example, in the ‘well-meaning symposium’, a poem translated by Lattimore in his Greek lyrics, Xenophanes describes the ideal symposium in such beautiful language, it makes me want to indulge indiscriminately in the best wine around while talking about useful subjects with a bunch of friends. Here are the first lines from the poem for you to get a sense of what I’m saying,

Now the floor is swept clean, and the hands of all who are present are washed, and the cups are clean.

One puts the garlands on, another passes the fragant myrrh on a dish.

The mixing bowl is set up and stands by, full of the spirit of cheer, and more wine, in earthen jars, preserving its own bouquet.

In the middle of all, frankincense gives out its holy fragrance, And we have water there too, cold and crystal and sweet.

Golden brown loaves are set nearby, and the lordly table is weighted down underneath its load of honey and cheese.

Please tell me you’re starting to feel that sense of peace and gentility. Now imagine this was written in some obscure poetic language, of what use would it be to anyone given the fact that it was written aeons ago. Maybe it could be a lifetime project for some obscure classical scholar whose interpretation might not even be the intention of the poet but to the general public? I struggle to see the relevance.

Now, I have translated the first seven lines of this glorious poem into Yoruba, with the hope that it might find a bit more flavour in translation.

Ní báyìí, tí a ti palẹ mọ́, tí àwọn tí o wà

láàrin wa sí ti fọwọ́ wọn, tí awọn ìfè ti a fẹ

lò si ti mọ́ pẹ̀lú. Ẹnìkan gbé òdòdó kọrun, òmíràn tẹ́wọ́ máírì (myrrh) olóòórùn dídùn tí a fi sínú abọ́.

 abọ́ tí a fí n dà máírì àti wáìnì pọ wà ní sàkání, ó sì kún fún ìdùnnú,

a sì ní  wáinì sílẹ ti ó ṣèlérí láti mà jánikùlẹ̀.

Wáinì dídùn, ninu kèrègbè, ti ó n tọjú oòrùn ará rẹ

Láàrín gbógbó eyi, oòrùn mímọ́ fránkínsénì n tu jádé, á sì ní ómí kírísítàlì níbí pẹlú, ti ó tùtù, ti ó sì dùn.