Poetry Blog no 181 On Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes

   

ON SAINT ANTHONY’S SERMON TO THE FISHES

This is based on a German poem- Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt. It comes from a collection of German folk poems and songs that was edited by Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano, It was also set to music by Gustav Mahler. The poem itself references the legend of St Anthony of Padua preaching to the fishes.

Saint Anthony of Padua, born Fernando Martins de Bulhões (1195 – 13 June 1231), also known as Anthony of Lisbon, was a Portuguese Catholic priest and friar of the Franciscan Order. He was born and raised by a wealthy family in Lisbon, Portugal, and died in Padua, Italy. Noted by his contemporaries for his powerful preaching, expert knowledge of scripture, and undying love and devotion to the poor and the sick, he was one of the most quickly canonized saints in church history. He was proclaimed a Doctor of the Church on 16 January 1946. He is also the patron saint of lost things. From Wikipedia

On the legemd-

Once Anthony had travelled to the city of Rimini because it was a hotbed of heresy. The city leaders had ordered everyone to ignore him, so no one turned up for his homilies. Wherever Anthony went, he was greeted by silence.

Anthony walked along praying and reflecting upon what had happened. As he walked outside of the town, he came to the mouth of the Marecchia River where it flows into the Adriatic. There he began to address the crowds, not of people but of fish.
He called out, “You, fish of the river and sea, listen to the Word of God because the heretics do not wish to hear it.” Suddenly there were thousands of fish neatly arranged in rows, all pushing their heads through the surface of the water as if they were straining to listen to every one of Anthony’s words.
The people of Rimini, seeing this miracle, gathered to listen to Anthony. What began with simple interest in an extraordinary event turned into a passionate conviction that Anthony was speaking to their very hearts. They were so moved by Anthony’s words, by his call to conversion, that they abandoned their hardened positions and returned to the Church. As we stated above, we are not sure that this story is historic, but it certainly does represent a version of what often happened when Anthony preached: that many hardened sinners were converted through the unselfish love of Anthony. From http://www.santantonio.org

Whilst this legend is probably a reflection of the great power of his preaching the poem takes a rather humorous, even ironic, view. It could be seen as a comment on expecting nature to behave according to human ideals or as a wry look at the intractability of humans – the various fish representing various types of people.

In form each line could be thought of as four feet of the amphibrach meter – that is unstressed syllable, stressed syllable, unstressed syllable u / u (they swish with ). They swish with | their tails so, | in sunshine | their scales glow. Furthermore each line is “broken” in two by a rhyme or half-rhyme. Sometimes each line is printed as two separate lines :

The saint goes to preach so,

finds no one in church though etc.

ON SAINT ANTHONY’S SERMON TO THE FISHES

The saint goes to preach so, finds no-one’s in church though!

He goes to the rivers and preaches to fishes.

They swish with their tails so, in sunshine their scales glow!

The carp with their spawn near, all come, all are drawn here;

With mouths fully gaping, they listen, heed taking;

No sermon has ever touched carp with more pleasure!

And pikes with sharp biting who love to be fighting,

Swim up in a hurry to hear all that’s holy.

No sermon has ever touched pikes with more pleasure!

As well those dream-casters, who always are fasters,

The codfish I mean now, arrive on the scene now.

No sermon has ever touched cod with more pleasure!

Good sturgeon and eels fine, that make nobles’ meals fine,

In comfort lie stretching to take in the teaching.

No sermon has ever touched eels with more pleasure!

And crabs, stiff-backed creatures, at most times slow-coaches,

Hurry up from the ground to hear well his sound.

No sermon has ever touched crabs with more pleasure!

Fish great and fish tiny, both noble and lowly,

Are lifting their features like clear reasoning creatures.

As God’s wish they’re keeping, they hear all the speaking!

The sermon now ended, away each has wended.

The pikes still stay muggers, the eels still stay huggers.

The preaching was splendid, but their ways have not mended!

The crabs still go backward, the cod’s still a fathead,

The carp’s still a glutton, the preaching’s forgotten.

The preaching was splendid, but their ways have not mended!

Though the preaching was splendid, was splendid!

Poetry Blog No 180 Heavens Above

HEAVENS ABOVE

This is a revised version of poem originally written many years ago about having watched a lunar

eclipse in the relative darkness of the country, some way from the nearest town. Perhaps it is living in houses with our entertainments- our screens and devices, perhaps it is the light pollution of streetlights and buildings in town and cities that blind us to the wonder-filled fact that the universe is there, right above our heads.

The following poem is in iambics apart from the last two lines, varying mostly from four to five feet with rhymes but with no specific rhyming scheme.

                 HEAVENS ABOVE

“On the big screen they showed us a sun,
But not as bright in life as the real one,

It’s never quite the same as the real one.”

-Bernie Taupman lyric from GREY SEAL Elton John.

And Saturn with white-yellow hue, gleamed far,

light-raying as a bright and eastward star;

and higher yet, the moon sphere, shining-white,

was flooding all of autumn sky with light.

Yet more and stranger happenings were seen-

the left side of the moon was catching rust.

Earth’s shadow-edge, brown-gold to reddish gleam,

the planet shine of air, as red as dusk,

was slowly sliding over lunar sheen.

Then earth’s whole shadow slow-eclipsed its face

and stole its night-bright, whitish beams,

that darkness creeping at a steady pace…

until our whole earth’s shadowing,

grown small by cosmic distancing,

had travelled over, swallowing

all of the moon’s reflected light.

Then fainter stars, at first unseen,

all hidden by the moon’s bright gleam,

were welcomed to our sight.

Then straight above our upturned gaze,

yet far in soundless depths of dark,

like some pale spectre on the night,

there Halley’s comet was departing,

departing never to be seen again

within the days of these, our lives.

And what will be by its return?

What keen and widening eyes

will view it passing in the dark?

Though comet and the moon-dark phase

by legend links misfortune’s ways,

no show upon the screen inside

could match that matchless night.

Heavens above, you left us in awe…

        starry-eyed. 

 

  

Poetry Blog No 179 Narrow Roads to Inner Lands Scene 9

 Taga site

NARROW ROADS TO INNER LANDS SCENE NINE

This scene is a reflection on time, the past and the inevitable passing of outer things. The site of these reflections is famous both for its historical nature and for being a part of Bashō’s journey.

Taga-jō was a fort in Tōhoku established during the campaigns against the Emishi in the eighth century. It was located in what is now the modern city of Tagajō, Miyagi Prefecture. It served as the administrative centre of Mutsu Province. Bashō tells of his visit to the site in Oku no Hosomichi. The ruins of Taga-jō and its former temple have been designated a Special Historic Site. From Wikipedia

Taga Stone

Taga Site present day

NARROW ROADS TO INNER LANDS SCENE NINE

On the road. At the site of the vanished Taga castle- a stone monument, six feet tall and three feet wide marks the place. It is half-hidden in grass. Enter Bashō and Sora with walking sticks and packs. They pause.

BASHŌ (pulling out a drawing and examining it)

We've passed that spot with clusters of tall reeds,

The home of famed, sedge-woven mats of Tofu,

A present from our friend, good Kaemon,

This drawing was so artfully conceived

For us at Sendai with a painter’s skill...

And from its image here I see that we

Are close to Matsushima's offshore islands.

(Bashō hands the drawing to Sora)

SORA (examining it)

That’s so indeed. With ease I think we shall

Reach shelter at the town of Shiogama

By coming nightfall.

BASHŌ

Let us rest a little.

(Bashō and Sora settle themselves by the roadside.)

BASHŌ (with a smile)

A priest I met upon another journey,

All black-robed like a crow and brandishing

A long, gnarled staff, stepped out ahead as if

He had received a free pass to the world

Beyond the Gateless Gate. I fear, however,

I'm not so confident a traveller

In this world or beyond. Still journeying,

Still shaking off attachments to this life,

I'm neither such a priest of purity

Or shadow-grasping, plain man of this world.

I waver endlessly, just like a bat,

That at first glance appears an eerie bird

But at a nearer view more like a mouse.

(with a slight sigh)

For ever understanding that I seek

Somehow eludes a limited perception.

As I once wrote, returning from a journey-

Oh, shedding all else,

Yet some summer road lice still

Crawl upon my robes.

(Bashō and Sora pause, musing. Sora suddenly notices the monument.)

SORA (pointing)

I wonder, Bashō, sir, what's that large stone,

Half-hidden by the grasses of the wayside?

It seems too straightly-sided for the work

Of nature by just alone…and yet it seems

So old… as though it has been standing here

For just so many seasons, lost to counting,

And yet I'm sure it bears the shaping craft

Of human hands.

BASHŌ

Let's go and view it closely.

Perhaps it has some writing on its face.

(Bashō and Sora go over to the stone.)

Yes, there are characters upon the stone;

Engraved, still visible through layered moss.

Above, I read directed distances

From here to many, varied provinces,

Both neighbouring and far away. Yet what

Is seen beneath speaks far more fascination.

This stone is marking that same spot where stood

The long-gone Taga castle, famed in story,

And founded in first year of Jinki, then

Remodelled in the reign of Emperor Shomu.

SORA (musingly)

That makes this monument most ancient.

BASHŌ

                                  Yes,

Astonishingly old. In all of this,

This ever-changing world where all we view

Is bound by ceaseless powers of time's passing;

Where even steep, stone-sided mountains crumble,

Where rushing streams and winding rivers change

Their courses as the years and years flow by,

Defiant rocks are buried by the decades,

Where tall, old trees yield place to fresh, young shoots,

Where all that's past is scattered and decays,

It is a wonder that this monument

Survived the distance of a thousand years,

The ceaseless battering of elements,

To claim a bare existence in our present.

SORA

A bare existence truly, yet still a state

Reminding us of those most ancient times.

BASHŌ (with a sigh)

Yes, Sora, that is true. It makes me feel

That all I write is but like battered leaves,

The golden dross of autumn, soon to be

Swift-borne away by winter’s heartless winds.

SORA

I’m certain that won’t work as way for all

The words of life that you have written, sir.

BASHŌ

Well, be that as it will, it’s sure such thoughts

Are not the gifting of this moment, for

This witness written, this solid memory

Of those who breathed and thought in distant ages

Is blessing on such pilgrimage as ours.

It's here for living eyes (this instant seeing)

As sense of ages past, a sudden feeling

Of presence that is vanished people's lives.

Forgetting all the aches and troubles on

The long and journeyed road I just rejoice

In this most singular and moving moment

And find deep sense of meditation in my heart.

(Bashō pauses, contemplating the monument. Then he gestures to Sora who takes out his writing pad. As Bashō speaks Sora writes down the haiku.)

Much, much of the past

Is brought to mind, standing here.

Long grass by this stone.

(Bashō and Sora remain standing. Lights fade.)