I was delighted when Louise Glück, one of the great poets of our age, won the Nobel Prize in Literature. We featured some of her poems on "The Examined Year: 2020" and I wrote about one of my all-time favorite Glück poems, "Ithaca," for that show.

I share my thoughts about that poem again for this week's episode, "Why Poetry Matters," with none other thanLouise Glück做客!

Ithaca

The beloved doesn’t

need to live. The beloved

lives in the head. The loom

is for the suitors, strung up

like a harp with white shroud-thread.

He was two people.

He was the body and the voice, the easy

magnetism of a living man, and then

the unfolding dream or image

shaped by the woman working the loom,

sitting there in a hall filled

with literal-minded men.

As you pity

the deceived sea that tried

to take him away forever

and took only the first,

the actual husband, you must

pity these men: they don’t know

what they’re looking at;

they don’t know that when one loves this way

the shroud becomes a wedding dress.

The background story, of course, is drawn from the Odyssey. Penelope, Queen of Ithaca, is awaiting the return of her husband Odysseus, who’s been at war and at sea for two decades. Since most people assume he is dead, a bunch of suitors hang around in the palace, waiting for Penelope to choose one of them as her new royal husband; she says she’ll choose when she’s finished weaving a shroud for Laertes, father of Odysseus, but she secretly unweaves part of it every night. In Homer it’s a tale of steadfast fidelity and of ingenuity (Penelope is very much the equal of her famously wily husband). In Glück it’s also a meditation on love—and on poetry.

这里的裹尸布与其说是雷欧提斯的，不如说是奥德修斯的，据推测他的丈夫已经死了。“裹尸布变成了一件婚纱”:佩内洛普嫁给了一个幽灵，一个影子。她嫁给了奥德修斯的形象，而不是他本人。所以:这是好事还是坏事?

Well, if “the beloved lives in the head,” then even if he’s away for twenty years, in another sense he’s still with you. That's uplifting… right?

Not necessarily: it also means you’re in love with someone who doesn’t exist. A dead man. You’re married to a corpse.(Just listen to that beautiful hidden rhyme that seals the connection: "lives in the head" / "with white shroud-thread.”)

At a reading of her poetry, Glück had this to say about her writing: “My thinking is characterized by oppositions—I argue with myself, like a courtroom drama.” In “Ithaca” perhaps Glück is arguing with herself about love. Is love better when it attaches to a real person (in which case we suffer when they’re away from us) or when it attaches to our vision of them (in which case we may just be deluded)?

Glück也在和自己争论诗歌。织机像竖琴;缺席的人不仅仅是一具尸体，而是一个“形象”。因此，危险的不仅是想象力，还有图像制作。如果你用图像——图片、歌曲、隐喻、诗歌——来取代真实的人和事物，你就是在让它们蒸发。把他们变成鬼魂。

So is image-making bad? The final line seems to suggest as much: “the shroud becomes a wedding dress.” Pretty soon you’re married to something dead, trapped in a world that doesn’t exist, yoked together with no way out.

但是等待…这本身就是一种比喻!而且非常棒。一个值得获得诺贝尔奖的人!

So maybe images are good after all; maybe the "literal-minded men,” who "don’t know what they’re looking at,” are the fools. The ability to understand metaphor—to see beyond surfaces, to see things for what they also stand for—is what lifts smart, wily, thoughtful, creative Penelope above these dullard men. Those pictures in your mind are life-enhancing, not life-destroying.

We’re invited to stand in judgment over those dumb, literal-minded suitors, and maybe even to wish them harm. (Lured by that brilliant line-break in the first stanza, did you think for a moment that “strung up” referred to them? Did you hope it?) But somehow we’re also asked to pity them, as the poem suddenly becomes about us, the reader (where did this “you” come from?): “As you pity / the deceived sea... you must / pity these men.”

那么，哪一个更好:是完全准确地描绘出心爱的人，还是你脑海中的画面?Literal-mindedness还是诗歌?一旦它进入你的脑海，Glück的诗就永远不会停止折磨你。以最好的方式，她的歌词变成了一件婚纱。