In Broken Images
by Robert Graves
He is quick, thinking in clear images;
I am slow, thinking in broken images.
He becomes dull, trusting to his clear images;
I become sharp, mistrusting my broken images.
Trusting his images, he assumes their relevance;
Mistrusting my images, I question their relevance.
Assuming their relevance, he assumes the fact;
Questioning their relevance, I question their fact.
When the fact fails him, he questions his senses;
when the fact fails me, I approve my senses.
He continues quick and dull in his clear images;
I continue slow and sharp in my broken images.
He in a new confusion of his understanding;
I in a new understanding of my confusion.
4 comments:
this follows the last post in a way. i like the idea of mistrusting one's own images, ideas, thoughts and understanding the chaos, confusion.
Yes, i guess we continue our previous discussion here. I like this poem, the way it illustrates the illusion of order, illusion of controlling things. And how fragile that illusion is.
Here is a verse from André Gide that I read again two days ago:
Et tu seras pareil, Nathanaël, à qui suivrait pour se guider une lumière que lui-même tiendrait en sa main.
My English is not good enough for me to translate this, but I find those words beautiful, and somehow related to the poem you published today. Have a nice week!
I like it, to find our way through the dark by following our own light, the light in the palm of our hand. Our own light as our guide through life.
I too find this verse related to the poem, because our understanding, our perception of reality really is limited and obscure, like when walking in the dark with a candle, we see only the small space around us, things we are close to, and we do not see it clearly.
Thanks for the beautiful verse!
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