Av Guardians boksida tipsas jag om en intervju med William Carlos Williams (hur länge sedan var det jag läste honom? På tok för länge sedan.). Han förklarar där bakgrunden till sin mest kända dikt, "This is just to say", en av de finaste kärleksdikterna (om det nu är en kärleksdikt), eller åtminstone en av de få dikter som lyckas vara "rara" utan sackarinpatos eller insmickrande. Som alltid uppnår Williams den effekten genom ett anti-poetiskt språk som balanserar på gränsen till det "icke-poetiska" överhuvudtaget. På något sätt lyckas han kommunicera en stor ömhet inför vardagstingen, i stort sett genom deras blotta omnämnande. Jag antar att radbrytningen står för en stor del av magin. Här är dikten:
This Is Just to Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.
Complete destruction
It was an icy day.
We buried the cat
then took her box
and set fire to it
in the backyard.
Those fleas that escaped
earth and fire
died by the cold.
+ Upptäckte att det fanns en svarsdikt till Williams av Kenneth Koch, som parodierar Williams sätt att be om ursäkt. Jag postar den också, eftersom den är rätt kul:
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do
and its wooden beams were so inviting.
We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me, I simply do not know what I am doing.
I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the next
ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was juicy and cold.
Last evening we were dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me, I was clumsy, and
I wanted you here in the ward, where I am a doctor!
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