(5) T. S. 엘리어트 (Thomas Stearns Eliot, 1888-1965) T. S. 엘리어트는 1888년미주리주세인트루이스 (St. Louis) 에서출생했다. 그의아버지는성공한사업가였으며, 어머니는사회복지일을하면서틈틈이시를썼다. 엘리어트는 14살때부터시를쓰기시작했으며, 하버드대학에입학하여철학을공부했다. 하버드대학을졸업한이후파리소르본느대학에서철학을공부했으며그곳에서당대의철학자베르그송의강의를들었다. 1차세계대전중에는옥스퍼드대학에서수학했으며, 1916년하버드대학에서박사학위논문을완성했다. 엘리어트는비비앤느 (Vivienne) 와결혼을해서주로영국에머물면서대학에서학생들을가르쳤는데, 부족한수입을메우기위해서평이나강연활동도했었다. 1920년파리를여행하면서제임스조이스를만났으며둘은친구가되었다. 1927년엘리어트는영국시민권을취득하였다. 1932년하버드대학으로부터교수직을제안받자그는수락을하고아내를남겨둔채영국을떠났으며, 이후영국으로돌아와아내와공식적으로별거에들어갔다. 이후그의아내비비앤느는정신병원에입원하게되었고그곳에서생을마감했다. 비비앤느가정신병원에있는동안법적으로엘리어트의아내였지만엘리어트는그녀가죽을때까지그녀를방문하지않았다. 1957년엘리어트는 37살연하의발레리플레처 (Valerie Fletcher) 와비밀리에결혼했다. 엘리어트는평소심하게담배를피웠는데, 이로인해 1965 년 1월 4일런던에서폐기종으로사망했다. 유언에따라화장되었고, 그의유해는이스트코커 (East Coker) 에있는성마이클교회 (St. Michael Chruch) 안장되었다. 엘리어트는시인이자극작가이자비평가였으며 20세기를대표하는가장유명한시인으로평가받고있다. 1915년에시카고에서출판한그의대표시 제이알프레드프루프록의연가 (The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock) 는단번에그를유명하게했으며여전히모더니즘시의걸작으로인정받고있다. 그의대표적인시로는 황무지 (The Waste Land, 1922), 공허한사람 (The Hollow Men, 1925), 재의수요일 (Ash Wednesday, 1930) 등이있으며, 1948년노벨문학상을수상했다. T. S. Eliot 1) THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK Let us go then, you and I, 1) http://www.thefamouspeople.com/profiles/t-s-eliot-33.php
When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question... Oh, do not ask, "What is it?" Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair-- (They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!") My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin-- (They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!") Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all-- The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all-- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!) Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? * * * * Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...
I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. * * * * And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep... tired... or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet--and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it towards some overwhelming question, To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"-- If one, settling a pillow by her head Should say: "That is not what I meant at all; That is not it, at all." And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor-- And this, and so much more?-- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous-- Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown. The Waste Land APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. - "The Waste Land" 의첫시작부분의일부 (line 1-19) (6) 윌리엄카를로스윌리엄즈 (William Carlos Williams, 1883-1963) 윌리엄카를로스윌리엄즈는 1883년뉴저지주러더포드에서출생했다. 14살무렵까지러더포드에서교육을받았으며, 이후유럽으로건너가스위스와프랑스에서 2년가량공부했다. 다시미국으로건너와고등학교를졸업했고, 펜실베니아대학의대에입학했다. 의대를졸업후그는의사가되어현업에서의료활동을했지만동시에그의문학활동도계속했다. 그는낮에는의사로활동했고밤에는집필에몰두했다. 윌리엄카를로스윌리엄즈는이미지즘운동에매료되었고시인으로서전국을돌며시를발표하고강연을하기도했다. 1차세계대전중에는미국에정착한맨래이 (Man Ray), 마르셀뒤샹 (Marcel Duchamp) 과같은유럽의예술가들과친분을쌓았다. 그는 1915년무렵뉴욕에기반을둔작가나예술가들로결성된예술단체 이방인들 (The Others) 에참여하기도했고, 다다이즘 (Dadaism) 운동에참가하면서미국문학의초기모더니즘운동을이끌었던중요한인물이되었다. 윌리엄카를로스윌리엄즈는이미지즘운동에동참하기는했지만에즈라파운드나 T. S. 엘리어트와는다른시관을가지고있었다. 그는시를쓸때고전의내용이나지나친외국어사용을마땅치않게생각했으며, 그는 로컬 (the local) 이라불렀던지역적인구체성속에서시적주제를발굴하고자했다. 그의이러한시적이론을바탕으로그는 1946 년부터 1958년까지무려 5권에이르는대작 패터슨 (Paterson) 을출판했다. 그는전통적인시의형식과개념으로부터탈피하여있는그대로의세상을시가담아내야한다고주장했다. 그가말한 사상이아니라있는그대로의물체속에서 (No ideas but in things) 라는말은그가추구하는사물주의 (Objectivism) 적인시를쓰는방법을가장함축적으로나타내보이고있다. 1909년그의첫시집 시 (Poems) 를출판한이후수많은시집과산문들을발표했을뿐만아니라젊은시인들과함께하면서자신이가진시적이론들을가르치는것을좋아했기때문에그는미국현대시운동을실질적으로확립한시인으로평가받고있다. 그는특히 1950년대미국의 비트세대 (Beat Generation) 시인들과 " 샌프란시스코르네상스
"(San Francisco Renaissance) 운동에지대한영향을미쳤다. William Carlos Williams 2) The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens. A Sort of a Song by William Carlos Williams Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait, sleepless. -- through metaphor to reconcile the people and the stones. Compose. (No ideas but in things) Invent! Saxifrage is my flower that splits 2) http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/william_carlos_williams
the rocks. The Widow's Lament in Springtime by William Carlos Williams Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire that closes round me this year. Thirtyfive years I lived with my husband. The plumtree is white today with masses of flowers. Masses of flowers load the cherry branches and color some bushes yellow and some red but the grief in my heart is stronger than they for though they were my joy formerly, today I notice them and turn away forgetting. Today my son told me that in the meadows, at the edge of the heavy woods in the distance, he saw trees of white flowers. I feel that I would like to go there and fall into those flowers and sink into the marsh near them.