About Me

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As the resident poet at EcoHealth, my verse finds inspiration these days in the spectre of global pandemics. At LMU Munich's Amerika-Institut, where I tutor composition and poetics, I'm anatomizing the sonnets of E. A. Robinson for my dissertation. I also teach at Münchner Volkshochschule and Amerikahaus.

20151129

IV

by Guido Calvacanti,
translated by Ezra Pound,
edited by Mark Olival-Bartley

If I should pray this lady pitiless 
That mercy to her heart be no more foe, 
You'd call me clownish, vile, and say that no
Was so past hope and filled with vanities. 
Where fìnd you now these novel cruelties, 
For still you seem humility's true leaven, 
Wise and adorned, alert and subtle even, 
And fashioned out in ways of gentleness? 

My soul weeps through her sighs for grievous fear, 
And all those sighs, which in the heart were found, 
Deep drenched with tears do sobbing thence depart, 
Then seems that on my mind there rains a clear 
Image of [such] a lady, thoughtful, bound 
Hither to keep death-watch upon that heart. 

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.



Replicated with attending errors in printing, here's the original text of the poem as it appeared in 1912.

IV







F I should pray this lady pitiless 
That.Mercy to her heart be no more foeman, 
You'd cali me clownish, vile, and say that no 



Was so past hope and filled with vanities. 

Where fìnd you now these novel craelties ? 
For stili you seem humility's true leaven, 
Wise and adorned, alert and subtle even, 
And fashioned out in ways of gentleness ? 

My soul weeps through her sighs for grievous fear, 
And ali those sighs, which in the heart were found, 
Deep drenched with tears do sobbing thence depart, 
Then seems that on my mind there rains a clear 
Image of a lady, thoughtful, bound 
Hither to keep death-watch upon that heart.

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