Two short poems in English, suivi de traductions en prose en français y en español.

The poems—written by someone who has lived almost all his life in the Northeastern United States and in northern Europe—do have an ostensible subject: November, my least favorite month. (And I was born at the end of October—what could this mean?!)

That said, however, in working on these two poems I was as much interested in an aspect of poetic form (in English). I will call this movement of the caesura, this latter being the break that often occurs in the middle of a line of poetry. The “movement,” I am proposing, has to do with how many syllables come before and after the caesura.

There is more about such formal matters in the Technical notes section, but a quick illustration here. In “Someone stronger loves November,” this “movement” of the caesura is quite controlled and limited in the beginnings of the verses and then begins to spread its wings at the ends. Given that the statements of the poem are banal, can we feel this “movement” more strongly? As, for example, in Italian opera when the music of the words may speak to us more than the romantic commonplaces the words express?

Someone stronger loves November

Someone stronger loves November,

The blood too thin for the cold and gray.

The waiting, waiting for something better;

At home, perhaps heating, blankets, drafts.

Someone stronger loves November,

The holiday glare outlining the tomb.

In spring we began hoping; now we’re left.

Cradling her tea, someone smiles at the rain.

As if this day

As if this day, the twentieth of November,

Something more serious, the city besieged.

Traffic, headache, the darkness come early.

We carry our food home. April must wait.

Technical notes

Again, the term “caesura” refers to the break that often occurs in the middle of a line of poetry. It may be indicated with punctuation, or not; above all, it is heard or felt when one reads the poem. Since traditionally lines of English poetry are 8, 10 or more syllables, it could be that we often prefer to read them in two packets (or phrases), divided by the caesura.

English poems also have, of course, the rhythms of stressed and unstressed syllables and, a bit as in Spanish, the difference between lines that end (more strongly, we often feel) with a stressed syllable, or, alternatively, with an unstressed one. And there is rhyme.

There are caesurae in French and Spanish poetry as well, but the matter, or the meter, cannot be quite the same. French does not have tonic accents, so rhythm must be governed rather by the intonation of a given phrase, the lengths of vowel sounds, and perhaps also by the relative hardness of the consonants. (Readers can see I am not an expert in French or Spanish prosody.) In the latter case, there are tonic accents but the large question is whether, and particularly at the end of a line, they fall on the ultimate, penultimate or antepenultimate syllable. And the ease of rhyming in Spanish opens a whole ’nother can of worms.

For these reasons, I have not, in the present case, tried to convert the English poems into French and Spanish poems. Instead I have provided prose translations, though in this translating I did not ignore sounds and rhythms. (C’est une approche que je devrais probablement utiliser beaucoup plus souvent que je ne le fais. De este modo, tal vez evite que mi nombre vaya unido a un sinfín de líneas torpes en francés y español.)

Below are my evaluations of the number of syllables on either side of the caesura, the patterns of stressed and unstressed syllables, and the rhymes or lack thereof. I would note that some of this is subjective. There are different ways of reading a line of poetry and thus variations in which syllables may be stressed. It is easy enough to read lines not divided by any punctuation as having no caesura.

There are also many cases in English—and yet more in French—in which the number of syllables—or units of speech, let’s say—that are “heard” in a word is going to vary depending on the reader (his or her region, mood or social class) or on the hopes of the poet. I don’t believe there are any examples of this in these two poems, but, for example: “different,” “opening” and “warrior” can be read as having just two (“diff-rent,” “op-ning,” “war-yer”), instead of three syllables.

This notation — 8 (4/4) uu/u/u/u — means that the line has eight syllables, four before the caesura and four after. The pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables is: unstressed (u), unstressed (u), stressed (/), etc. And the sound at the end of the final word—the “er” of “November” in this case—is labelled with an “a,” which proves to be repeated by the “er” of “better” two lines down.

Someone stronger loves November

Someone stronger loves November, = 8 (4/4) uu/u/u/u — a

The blood too thin for the cold and gray. = 9 (4/5) u/u/uu/u/ — b

The waiting, waiting for something better; = 10 (5/5) u/u/uu/u/u — a

At home, perhaps heating, blankets, drafts. = 9 (6/3) u/,uu/u, /u/ — c

Someone stronger loves November, = 8 (4/4) uu/u/u/u — a

The holiday glare outlining the tomb. = 10 (5/5) u/uu/u/uu/ — d

In spring we began hoping; now we’re left. = 10 (7/3) u//u/u; /u/ — e

Cradling her tea, someone smiles at the rain. = 11 (4/7) /uu/, /u/uuu/. — b (half rhyme)

As if this day

As if this day, the twentieth of November, = 12 (4,8) u/u/u/uuuu/u — a

Something more serious, the city besieged. = 12 (6, 5) /uu/uu, u/uu/ — b

Traffic, headache, the darkness come early = 10 (4, 6) /u/u, u/u//u — c

We carry our food home. April must wait. = 11 (6,4) u/uu//. /u// — d

Français

Quelqu’un plus fort aime novembre

Quelqu’un plus fort aime novembre, le sang trop fin pour le froid et le gris. L’espoir contre l’espoir de temps meilleure ; dans l’appart le chauffage peut-être, des couettes et des courants.

Quelqu’un plus fort aime novembre, l’éclat des fêtes qui souligne la tombe. Au printemps, qui pourrait ne pas prendre son envol ; maintenant, abandonné. Les mains autour d’une tasse de thé, quelqu’un sourit à la pluie.

Comme si ce jour

Comme si ce jour, le vingt novembre, quelque chose de plus grave assiégeait la ville. La circulation, les maux de tête, l’obscurité tôt. Nous emportons notre ration à la maison. Avril doit attendre.

Español

Alguien más fuerte ama noviembre

Alguien más fuerte ama noviembre, la sangre tan delgada para el frío, el gris. La espera, la espera de algo mejor; en casa tal vez la calefacción, las mantas, las corrientes.

Alguien más fuerte ama noviembre, el resplandor de las festividades perfilando la tumba. En primavera las promesas; ahora abandonadas. Alguien, acunando su té, sonríe a la lluvia.

Como si este día

Como si este día, el veinte de noviembre, algo más serio, la ciudad sitiada. El tráfico, dolor de cabeza, la oscuridad que llega temprano. Nos llevamos a casa la comida. April debe esperar.


— Poem(s) and artwork by William Eaton.