There's something at once self-indulgent and self-consciously naïve about this piece. One might almost think a child had written it, except a child would be less pretentious. The piece embodies everything I dislike about so much contemporary poetry – lack of craftsmanship, of clarity, of having anything meaningful to say.
I thought of Williams also. And I should disclose, I'm not a big fan of his either.
I apologize that I haven't commented on the translation per se. It's hard to do so with any enthusiasm when the poem leaves me cold.
Last edited by Marion Shore; 10-03-2014 at 09:52 PM.
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