French: "the call of the void" or, the impulsive feeling to leap off a high cliff. (yes, that's a near-literal translation)
If the wind could sing a requiem
for every heart thrown over the mountains,
would it not sing a thousand times?
Or, could the pines whisper together
the tales of saddened souls
in grief beyond compare?
The certain grief
only a dour plummet can shake.
To fly--
To soar for miles on end,
without a care left for human existence.
Wasting away in utter felicity
until the eyes are opened
unto the great void below.
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125,029 Literary Works • 672,785 Reviews
The poem completely matches the title of the poem, especially when you put the title in a different language. I just love how you describe what being in this void is like. It's not a pleasant feeling, clearly. The imagery of what you put in the two stanzas just yanked my heartstrings, as if I'm sinking into the void as well. This is very well done work. I love it for a very dark poem. I hope to read more of your works.
Hello, theironnovelist!
that feels awkward. Try saying "in grief beyond compare?" The "could" in the whispering pines line sets up the whole sentence to be a question, so you don't need "would it be no less than a" and it will make the meaning clearer.I really like this. It's slow and brooding, with appropriately barren images, void of civilization with only the wilderness to sing a funeral dirge.
That being said, there are a few things I'd like to talk about.
This is strange because the plunge is shuddering the grief, and I don't think it quite works here. I'm not quite sure what you're trying to say, but it needs to be reworded a little to improve clarity.
The first sentence of the second stanza is a fragment, and while fragments can be used stylistically to great effect, it's not really doing it for me here. Try rewording that, as well.
Nice job conveying these feelings. I really appreciate your imagery. It makes me think of this idea in a new way, and that's really all I can ask of poetry. I hope you find this useful in some way! Happy YWSing!
Hello!
That's a lovely piece of art indeed. Even though I'm usually looking for a certain rhythm, but it's all my nature, and it didn't spoil your work.
From the very first lines I got your message, and I really liked your metaphor about thrown hearts, I consider it one of the best in this poem on a par with the last lines.
Keep on working! Good luck!
French: "the call of the void" or, the impulsive feeling to leap off a high cliff. (yes, that's a near-literal translation)
Where did you even here that? :p
If the wind could sing a requiem
for every heart thrown over the mountains,
When I read it, my honest first thought was how can a heart be thrown over a mountains? It didn't really make sense, especially when you'd told me about cliffs. Only change it if you want to, but reading on I totally understand it. It's just the initial thought that is incorrect.
To fly--
To soar for miles on end,
without a care left for human existence.
Lovely wording! I can just imagine someone falling with their arms spread like a bird, with not a care in the world.
Your poem is awesome. I have no nitpicks except the first thing I mentioned (which isn't really a nitpick at all). I hope you'll write more.