I began this week's blogging by searching 'quirky poems' as I needed a little pick me up. Scrolling through poems such as 'The Mating of Dinosaurs' and 'Oatmeal' I came to the name 'Edmund Spenser' and went to find out more.
My immediate face-palm reaction came when I realised this was the Edmund Spenser who wrote 'The Faerie Queen', as referenced in Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. He wrote many a long (even epic) poem, but I have found a few shorter ones, this being 'Iambicum Trimetrum', which is the metre of the poem, anciently used in Greek and Latin tragedies and comedies by a speaking character (i.e. not the Chorus). This was used because the literary circle in which Spenser was involved, which included Sydney, wished to rejuvenate English poetry with 'quantitative' rhyming and accentuating.
Unhappy verse, the witness of my unhappy state,
Make thy self flutt'ring wings of thy fast flying
Thought, and fly forth unto my love, wheresoever she be:
Whether lying restless in heavy bed, or else
Sitting so cheerless at the cheerful board, or else
Playing alone careless on her heavenly virginals.
If in bed, tell her, that my eyes can take no rest:
If at board, tell her, that my mouth can eat no meat:
If at her virginals, tell her, I can hear no mirth.
Asked why? say: waking love suffereth no sleep:
Say that raging love doth appal the weak stomach:
Say, that lamenting love marreth the musical.
Tell her, that her pleasures were wont to lull me asleep:
Tell her, that her beauty was wont to feed mine eyes:
Tell her, that her sweet tongue was wont to make me mirth.
Now do I nightly waste, wanting my kindly rest:
Now do I daily starve, wanting my lively food:
Now do I always die, wanting thy timely mirth.
And if I waste, who will bewail my heavy chance?
And if I starve, who will record my cursed end?
And if I die, who will say: "This was Immerito"?
First I will define a few words: 'board' here means table; 'virginals' were the equivalent of a small harpsichord; 'wont' means accustomed; 'immerito' translates from Latin as 'undeserved'. With that in mind let's do some analysis.
Spenser uses quite a few modifiers in this poem. Most nouns comes with an adjective, like 'unhappy verse', 'fast flying thought' 'heavy bed', etc. A few verbs come with a adverb, as in 'lying restless' (technically an adjective describing his 'love' but the juxtaposition works equally), 'playing alone', 'do i nightly', etc. This descriptive scene depicts his desperate state, helping the audience to comprehend the extent of his unhappiness.
The poem contains much parallelism. The repetition of 'unhappy' in the first line makes the poem not only a 'witness' but also a 'proof' of his state. The pattern of 'bed', 'board' and 'virginals' is repeated then transformed to the metonyms of 'sleep', food' and music. These are usually pleasures but the lack and transformation of good 'love' to a 'waking...raging...lamenting' one has spoiled them. This same triplet pattern is used again and again to emphasise that his senses are disused, along with the past tense in 'was wont'.
This repetition of the three ideas per three lines creates a climax each triplet, which then begins again when it recedes to the first idea of the three, rather like a wave; his emotions are reaching the brink of death and then returning to the problem to find that death is still the only answer, even though it is 'Immerito', which is capitalised and in Latin to make the narrator appear, ironically, more worthy and heroic. The last triplet comes as three conditional and rhetorical questions, a typical device in love poetry as it highlights the absence of the narratee.
My favourite stylistic feature of the poem is the paranomasia of 'wont' and 'wanting', creating a contrast of what is normal for the narrator and how abnormal his situation is now. This is aided by the move from past to present, and then in the next triplet to the future, which is undecided and lacking in hope. Yet the poem does not fill one with utter despair, somehow. How? Because we know that the love is still alive (wheresoever she be) and also because the love appears so strong. Even if there is no hope for the narrator to be with his beloved, or even to continue existence, the poem's main focus is how great an affect love can have, and how sublime it is when things go according to plan. The hope is there for the reader rather than the narrator. At least, that's my take on it.
Have a good Halloween, dear reader. Perhaps next week I could theme my post around that...
Tuesday, 27 October 2015
Tuesday, 20 October 2015
Making my blog title actually accurate
Yesterday I realised that my blog does not yet actually cover 'what it says on the tin'. By this I mean I have studied a Keats poem but not a Yeats one. This was mainly because I have studied a lot of Yeats's works as a part of my AS Level English Literature course but now I feel I am beginning to miss his unique style, the way he contemplates life and death so transparently in his words but with such complex thought processes. He is also a great painter of portraits linguistically, as in 'An Irish Airman Foresees his Death'.
Yeats' obsession with death and ageing means that one can estimate the age of the poet on accordance with his poems. My personal preference is for his younger poems, as they deal in elements of fantasy and by that I mean fairies. Irish fairies, though, not your cute Tinkerbelles and tooth fairies. I love the sense of suspicion around the west of Ireland because it translates to any countryside and so sends shivers up your spine when you're next walking alone through woods or near streams. Please, if you have the chance, read 'The Stolen Child', it excites the imagination as though you were a child once again and things really did go 'bump' in the night.
The Hosting of the Sidhe (1899)
THE HOST is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing ’twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caolte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.
Now, this poem has many cultural references, too many for me to describe here when they will be far better depicted in other sources. So if you really would like to learn more about the Irish folklore behind this, have a look around this delightful website: http://www.mythicalireland.com/mythology/tuathade/
From a slightly liberal humanist approach to this text, we could say that the poem focuses on the themes of activity and death. I might be mistaken but the 'host' reminded me of the 'Wild Hunt', the members of which take away the living person who saw them . This is slightly different to the belief that the Sidhe lived within the wind (as that is its translation from Gaelic) and so whenever someone saw a rustling of leaves in a whirlwind they were granted luck, but perhaps it was more of a blessing that they had not been taken by the host. Or maybe I just love the idea of a host of fairies and skeletons snatching people away. At least that would align with the chilling imperative 'Away, come away', as used in almost all Yeats' fairy poems to denote the ethereal nature of the fairy world, one which might bring profitable change or evil slavery.
The way the poem begins sets the reader on edge; the present tense 'is' and present participle 'riding' give immediate pace and action, meaning anyone could be taken. As I said before, the next time you go out you will look around twice and cast glances over your shoulder every so often. Graphologically, I think even the italics used in the speech pushes the host onward, leaning with the wind onto its next victim.
In Yeats's later poems, he still discusses mortality but with more of a sense of Christianity and faith. In his earlier works, the fairies take precedence, as if they were an alternative ending to human life. Yeats knows that neither option is entirely safe or secure, even though both promise such things. Yet this option at least appears to offer some ort of active life after death; there is a semantic field of wildness, with words such as 'unbound', 'heaving', 'a-gleam', 'waving' presenting the host as liberating for a mortal. This is far more positive than the 'injustice of the skies' that God seems to offer to Yeats in 'The Cold Heaven'. In fact, this poem does greatly contrast to that afterlife through the 'burning' of Caolte's hair. Whether this is literal or an image for ginger, the hot, blood-red depiction denotes danger but in an exciting, virile way, much more appealing than his later musings of heaven.
Told you I love Yeats.
Yeats' obsession with death and ageing means that one can estimate the age of the poet on accordance with his poems. My personal preference is for his younger poems, as they deal in elements of fantasy and by that I mean fairies. Irish fairies, though, not your cute Tinkerbelles and tooth fairies. I love the sense of suspicion around the west of Ireland because it translates to any countryside and so sends shivers up your spine when you're next walking alone through woods or near streams. Please, if you have the chance, read 'The Stolen Child', it excites the imagination as though you were a child once again and things really did go 'bump' in the night.
The Hosting of the Sidhe (1899)
THE HOST is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing ’twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caolte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.
Now, this poem has many cultural references, too many for me to describe here when they will be far better depicted in other sources. So if you really would like to learn more about the Irish folklore behind this, have a look around this delightful website: http://www.mythicalireland.com/mythology/tuathade/
From a slightly liberal humanist approach to this text, we could say that the poem focuses on the themes of activity and death. I might be mistaken but the 'host' reminded me of the 'Wild Hunt', the members of which take away the living person who saw them . This is slightly different to the belief that the Sidhe lived within the wind (as that is its translation from Gaelic) and so whenever someone saw a rustling of leaves in a whirlwind they were granted luck, but perhaps it was more of a blessing that they had not been taken by the host. Or maybe I just love the idea of a host of fairies and skeletons snatching people away. At least that would align with the chilling imperative 'Away, come away', as used in almost all Yeats' fairy poems to denote the ethereal nature of the fairy world, one which might bring profitable change or evil slavery.
The way the poem begins sets the reader on edge; the present tense 'is' and present participle 'riding' give immediate pace and action, meaning anyone could be taken. As I said before, the next time you go out you will look around twice and cast glances over your shoulder every so often. Graphologically, I think even the italics used in the speech pushes the host onward, leaning with the wind onto its next victim.
In Yeats's later poems, he still discusses mortality but with more of a sense of Christianity and faith. In his earlier works, the fairies take precedence, as if they were an alternative ending to human life. Yeats knows that neither option is entirely safe or secure, even though both promise such things. Yet this option at least appears to offer some ort of active life after death; there is a semantic field of wildness, with words such as 'unbound', 'heaving', 'a-gleam', 'waving' presenting the host as liberating for a mortal. This is far more positive than the 'injustice of the skies' that God seems to offer to Yeats in 'The Cold Heaven'. In fact, this poem does greatly contrast to that afterlife through the 'burning' of Caolte's hair. Whether this is literal or an image for ginger, the hot, blood-red depiction denotes danger but in an exciting, virile way, much more appealing than his later musings of heaven.
Told you I love Yeats.
Tuesday, 13 October 2015
Marvellous Emanuel Xavier
Searching through more modern poets and I have found this gem. It certainly is very modern stuff and that is truly wonderful. Emanuel Xavier writes about many current problems in the world. I will only note that he is a gay poet because that is a key theme and perspective in his poetry and so needs to be read correctly; do not force a heterosexual reading that doesn't exist.
In some ways this makes me wish more heterosexuals would write about homosexuality as he does, although of course they could only write with sympathy rather than empathy, but it would still be a step forward. Maybe soon I will look into straights writing about gays.
This poem is the most PG but I do encourage anyone interested to look at 'A Simple Poem' and 'Walking with angels', which are slightly less for-all-ages but have such strong messages, aided by their strong wording I suppose.
The chosen poem still has strong themes, of abuse juxtaposed with forgiveness. It really touches your heart and fills you with sympathy.
He forgets that he used to call me mariconcito-
that I harbored years of hatred toward him
while hoping to find my real father. My
childhood memories of him reminding me
I was my mother's son, not his. I tried
to poison him once and scattered sharp nails
inside the shoes in his closet. By the time one
of his sons died of AIDS I was already lost
in contempt for the man I blamed for everything.
There was the time I was in love and he met my
boyfriend. Now he forgets to go to the bathroom
or where he is but he still remembers Michael
and asks about him. I help him walk slowly
outdoors to step outside the prison cell that is
the tiny apartment with no windows in which
I grew up abused by both of them. He barely
understands. His fate has been torture. I know
that I cannot be his savior. I used to pray for
him to die but here he is slowly fading. In his
eyes I see that he learned to love me and wishes
he could take it all back. He is unable to recall
those drunken nights and hateful words. I should
do the same. I left a long time ago but he still
remains haunted by the little boy who wanted
to belong. Like him, I want to forget that we
made mistakes and caused so much pain. I need
for both of us to remember how he taught me
how to ride a bike and how to swim and told
me, better late than never, that he loved me and
was proud of all I had done. I have to help him
settle into his favorite chair and let him know that
I forgive him. There is a place somewhere where
he will call me hijo and I will know him as my dad.
Where to start on this one? Each sentence comes as yet another shock, however understandable. The first line uses the very pejorative term 'mariconcito', equating to 'faggot' in English I think. Mr Xavier uses Spanish both to recall the memory as it literally was, i.e. not in translation, but also to create an intrigue in the ignorant reader. As this particular reader continues, they begin to theorise what the word could mean; I myself came to a similar conclusion, thus was filled with growing disgust and dread as the first stanza continued, with the climax of the boyfriend nearly confirming my thoughts.
This term is resolved by the one in the last line, of course; 'hijo' equates to something like 'little son', a far more endearing term. However this resolution is not yet complete as it appears in the future with 'will'. It is hopeful and promising but not yet achieved, making the final tone of the poem still unfulfilling, just as their whole relationship has been. By using the adverb 'somewhere' the 'place' is made even more distant and fantastical, highlighting the fact that this stage of their relationship will never be reached but will always be a goal (which is why the metaphor of place is used).
Mr Xavier focuses a lot on the stigma around 'AIDS' and so here the reference is all the more shocking as not even that can cause pity in the narrator. It is mentioned to create a grudging pity in the reader, as we have been previously persuaded to hate the man as the narrator does.
I find the reference to his 'boyfriend' sinister because the result of the meeting is not given. All we know is that 'he met' him. When we combine this with the insult in line one we are led to assume that the outcome was so horrific that we cannot be told. Mr Xavier wants us to imagine a horrific outcome, therefore, in order to highlight the dangers of homophobia.
This poem is also about change. The step father in question changes. The cause for his change is not given, other than that he is forgetting many of the bad things. This implies a mental deterioration, as well as a physical one (the piteous note about the 'bathroom'). I think that the narrator wrestles with the idea of forgiveness for so long because the question is whether or not his step father would have changed his opinions of his own accord. The important thing is not that he has changed but how.
This reading has forced me to re-read the line, 'His fate has been torture'. Originally I saw this at face value to mean that the step father has been physically pained by his illness, or even to read more like 'his punishment has been to be tortured'. But now I take it to show something more about the narrator. The fate of the step father has tortured the step son because he can never know if they would have found reconciliation on their own and he feels he must forgive the suffering man whether he deserves it or not. So by not giving an indirect object Mr Xavier can imply more meanings to the phrase.
By now I have realised that what this poem is trying to do is show how unfair life can be. The sufferer can escape primary suffering but can never be fully healed, and the one who causes the suffering will suffer too, which eventually is not what the original sufferer wants, even though they might think it at the time. Their empathy for suffering outweighs their original hatred because they do not want anyone else to go through what they themselves had to.
I do hope he keeps writing these striking poems, they reveal so much about society and personal relationships as well.
In some ways this makes me wish more heterosexuals would write about homosexuality as he does, although of course they could only write with sympathy rather than empathy, but it would still be a step forward. Maybe soon I will look into straights writing about gays.
This poem is the most PG but I do encourage anyone interested to look at 'A Simple Poem' and 'Walking with angels', which are slightly less for-all-ages but have such strong messages, aided by their strong wording I suppose.
The chosen poem still has strong themes, of abuse juxtaposed with forgiveness. It really touches your heart and fills you with sympathy.
He forgets that he used to call me mariconcito-
that I harbored years of hatred toward him
while hoping to find my real father. My
childhood memories of him reminding me
I was my mother's son, not his. I tried
to poison him once and scattered sharp nails
inside the shoes in his closet. By the time one
of his sons died of AIDS I was already lost
in contempt for the man I blamed for everything.
There was the time I was in love and he met my
boyfriend. Now he forgets to go to the bathroom
or where he is but he still remembers Michael
and asks about him. I help him walk slowly
outdoors to step outside the prison cell that is
the tiny apartment with no windows in which
I grew up abused by both of them. He barely
understands. His fate has been torture. I know
that I cannot be his savior. I used to pray for
him to die but here he is slowly fading. In his
eyes I see that he learned to love me and wishes
he could take it all back. He is unable to recall
those drunken nights and hateful words. I should
do the same. I left a long time ago but he still
remains haunted by the little boy who wanted
to belong. Like him, I want to forget that we
made mistakes and caused so much pain. I need
for both of us to remember how he taught me
how to ride a bike and how to swim and told
me, better late than never, that he loved me and
was proud of all I had done. I have to help him
settle into his favorite chair and let him know that
I forgive him. There is a place somewhere where
he will call me hijo and I will know him as my dad.
Where to start on this one? Each sentence comes as yet another shock, however understandable. The first line uses the very pejorative term 'mariconcito', equating to 'faggot' in English I think. Mr Xavier uses Spanish both to recall the memory as it literally was, i.e. not in translation, but also to create an intrigue in the ignorant reader. As this particular reader continues, they begin to theorise what the word could mean; I myself came to a similar conclusion, thus was filled with growing disgust and dread as the first stanza continued, with the climax of the boyfriend nearly confirming my thoughts.
This term is resolved by the one in the last line, of course; 'hijo' equates to something like 'little son', a far more endearing term. However this resolution is not yet complete as it appears in the future with 'will'. It is hopeful and promising but not yet achieved, making the final tone of the poem still unfulfilling, just as their whole relationship has been. By using the adverb 'somewhere' the 'place' is made even more distant and fantastical, highlighting the fact that this stage of their relationship will never be reached but will always be a goal (which is why the metaphor of place is used).
Mr Xavier focuses a lot on the stigma around 'AIDS' and so here the reference is all the more shocking as not even that can cause pity in the narrator. It is mentioned to create a grudging pity in the reader, as we have been previously persuaded to hate the man as the narrator does.
I find the reference to his 'boyfriend' sinister because the result of the meeting is not given. All we know is that 'he met' him. When we combine this with the insult in line one we are led to assume that the outcome was so horrific that we cannot be told. Mr Xavier wants us to imagine a horrific outcome, therefore, in order to highlight the dangers of homophobia.
This poem is also about change. The step father in question changes. The cause for his change is not given, other than that he is forgetting many of the bad things. This implies a mental deterioration, as well as a physical one (the piteous note about the 'bathroom'). I think that the narrator wrestles with the idea of forgiveness for so long because the question is whether or not his step father would have changed his opinions of his own accord. The important thing is not that he has changed but how.
This reading has forced me to re-read the line, 'His fate has been torture'. Originally I saw this at face value to mean that the step father has been physically pained by his illness, or even to read more like 'his punishment has been to be tortured'. But now I take it to show something more about the narrator. The fate of the step father has tortured the step son because he can never know if they would have found reconciliation on their own and he feels he must forgive the suffering man whether he deserves it or not. So by not giving an indirect object Mr Xavier can imply more meanings to the phrase.
By now I have realised that what this poem is trying to do is show how unfair life can be. The sufferer can escape primary suffering but can never be fully healed, and the one who causes the suffering will suffer too, which eventually is not what the original sufferer wants, even though they might think it at the time. Their empathy for suffering outweighs their original hatred because they do not want anyone else to go through what they themselves had to.
I do hope he keeps writing these striking poems, they reveal so much about society and personal relationships as well.
Sunday, 11 October 2015
I'm keeping my promise!
I recollected that I had made some sort of plan for the next few posts, so went and checked my last one to find the theme is modernism. Before remembering I had wanted to do a poem in translation. That's fine, I say, I'll do both at once!
I do not know enough about Asian culture. I shall introduce myself to it in the best way I can think of, which is through poetry and perhaps a piece of art to accompany it at the end.
Niu Qingguo is this week's writer, the poem, 'The Old Donkey'. I wish I could appreciate the poem in its original form but alas I am not learned in the language. English shall have to suffice.
She is old, the donkey who plowed our field year after year.
The first revelation came the day she knelt on her front legs
and the cart was pushed uphill by Father
with every thread of his strength.
That evening, Father embraced the donkey’s skinny legs
like a man circling his arm around an old friend's shoulders.
He said, “We are old, you and I.”
Now, the donkey seemed to know she served no purpose
and lost interest in water and hay.
The ragged coat she had worn for a lifetime
showed a bald scar, the size of a hand.
I told Father to take her to the market,
but they always came back together
like a young couple, forced by parents to divorce,
leaving home at dawn and returning together timidly at dusk.
The other day, I stepped outside
and saw the donkey, chin on the fence;
she beckoned me with a trembling voice, so bleak and so sad,
but Father said he knew what she meant to say.
For the benefit of anyone who does know the language, here is the link so you can enjoy the original:
http://modernchinesepoetry.com/poems.php#niu_qingguo
What is different about this poem compared to the others I have covered so far is the central focus; the pastoral scene is set so well that the poem comes to speak of life and death, not only of the donkey but of the humans as well.
From the offset, the poem is made timeless. The donkey 'is' old in the present tense but she 'plowed' in the past. This gives the indication of retirement, creating pathos as the man is old too (he had to use all his 'strength', with 'thread' giving connotations of a struggle which was near to failure) but cannot retire himself, especially as he is now without his helper.
The pathos is enhanced with the direct speech given to the 'Father'. Addressing her as 'we', the personal pronoun creates unity, separating the pair from the son, who watches on with youthful eyes, as the reader probably does too. His sympathy cannot be converted to empathy yet but we all have the knowledge that this will probably be us one day too and it will have happened to someone we know. So the line between sympathy and empathy is blurred.
The image of the 'bald scar, the size of a hand' links endophorically with the man putting his arm around the donkey. The connection between the human and the animal is so strong that it has created an impression on the latter.
The connection forces the son to move out of his role and take on that of the Father by telling him to 'take her to the market'. This role reversal is intriguing as the boy does not seem to be so intrinsically invested in the donkey. Maybe this is because he realises that the two men would not survive without one person detached and therefore focused.
This leads onto an exophoric reference; where is the mother in this household? She is not mentioned, even as absent. One reading is that the donkey replaces her emotional role in the text. She is depicted as part of a 'divorce' but of a 'young couple', perhaps showing what the old man lacks (both youth and a partner). The actual use of the plural noun 'parents' causes pain in the reader as it highlights the fact that the use for this boy should be singular.
With regards to the last words, or rather the fact that the donkey's are not given, I do not know what to conclude, other than the fact that the bond between the donkey and the man is proven so strong that it does not matter. Maybe the point is that he did not truly know what 'she meant to say' (notice that the personification could be literally read as if she were the mother) but he did not need to know because whatever she wanted to say would have been enough; she was trying to strengthen the bond through speech and that was the most he could gain from the relationship, especially now that she can no longer work.
I shall have to content myself, as with many poems and stories, with the knowledge that I shall have no more knowledge. The paradox of the scholar...
I do not know enough about Asian culture. I shall introduce myself to it in the best way I can think of, which is through poetry and perhaps a piece of art to accompany it at the end.
Niu Qingguo is this week's writer, the poem, 'The Old Donkey'. I wish I could appreciate the poem in its original form but alas I am not learned in the language. English shall have to suffice.
She is old, the donkey who plowed our field year after year.
The first revelation came the day she knelt on her front legs
and the cart was pushed uphill by Father
with every thread of his strength.
That evening, Father embraced the donkey’s skinny legs
like a man circling his arm around an old friend's shoulders.
He said, “We are old, you and I.”
Now, the donkey seemed to know she served no purpose
and lost interest in water and hay.
The ragged coat she had worn for a lifetime
showed a bald scar, the size of a hand.
I told Father to take her to the market,
but they always came back together
like a young couple, forced by parents to divorce,
leaving home at dawn and returning together timidly at dusk.
The other day, I stepped outside
and saw the donkey, chin on the fence;
she beckoned me with a trembling voice, so bleak and so sad,
but Father said he knew what she meant to say.
For the benefit of anyone who does know the language, here is the link so you can enjoy the original:
http://modernchinesepoetry.com/poems.php#niu_qingguo
What is different about this poem compared to the others I have covered so far is the central focus; the pastoral scene is set so well that the poem comes to speak of life and death, not only of the donkey but of the humans as well.
From the offset, the poem is made timeless. The donkey 'is' old in the present tense but she 'plowed' in the past. This gives the indication of retirement, creating pathos as the man is old too (he had to use all his 'strength', with 'thread' giving connotations of a struggle which was near to failure) but cannot retire himself, especially as he is now without his helper.
The pathos is enhanced with the direct speech given to the 'Father'. Addressing her as 'we', the personal pronoun creates unity, separating the pair from the son, who watches on with youthful eyes, as the reader probably does too. His sympathy cannot be converted to empathy yet but we all have the knowledge that this will probably be us one day too and it will have happened to someone we know. So the line between sympathy and empathy is blurred.
The image of the 'bald scar, the size of a hand' links endophorically with the man putting his arm around the donkey. The connection between the human and the animal is so strong that it has created an impression on the latter.
The connection forces the son to move out of his role and take on that of the Father by telling him to 'take her to the market'. This role reversal is intriguing as the boy does not seem to be so intrinsically invested in the donkey. Maybe this is because he realises that the two men would not survive without one person detached and therefore focused.
This leads onto an exophoric reference; where is the mother in this household? She is not mentioned, even as absent. One reading is that the donkey replaces her emotional role in the text. She is depicted as part of a 'divorce' but of a 'young couple', perhaps showing what the old man lacks (both youth and a partner). The actual use of the plural noun 'parents' causes pain in the reader as it highlights the fact that the use for this boy should be singular.
With regards to the last words, or rather the fact that the donkey's are not given, I do not know what to conclude, other than the fact that the bond between the donkey and the man is proven so strong that it does not matter. Maybe the point is that he did not truly know what 'she meant to say' (notice that the personification could be literally read as if she were the mother) but he did not need to know because whatever she wanted to say would have been enough; she was trying to strengthen the bond through speech and that was the most he could gain from the relationship, especially now that she can no longer work.
I shall have to content myself, as with many poems and stories, with the knowledge that I shall have no more knowledge. The paradox of the scholar...
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