S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
Let us go then, you and I,
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. . . 10
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, 20
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; 30
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— 40
[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, 50
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? 60
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 70
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? 80
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, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward 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, 100
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." 110
. . . . .
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 . . . 120
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 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 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
He rejects the modernity.However in his literature he is a modernist.He is living in modernity period. In his poetry he uses modernist techniques particularly exemplifying with fragmantation of content and form.He uses dramatic monologue in a different way and he also uses objective correlatives.
ReplyDeletePrufrock is the representation of middle class overeducated persona who has some values and ideas.He knows about Western literature, Hamlet, Shakesepeare etc.Eventhough he is not a nobel person he has nobel sensitivity.He reflects his personality.He is old like European culture, he is passive, inactive.The emotion is certain he feels anxious.He feels something is coming closer.Nonetheless the question and answer are not clear.This modern psychology is obsessed with some repressed,suppressed feelings…
This poem is an exaamination of the tortured psyche of the prototypical modern man- overeducated, wellspoken,neurotic and emotionally stilted. We see Prufrock as the poem's speaker and he is addressing a potential lover with whom he would like to "force the moment to its crisis, by somehow consummating their relationship. But Prufrock knows too much of life to dare an approach to the woman.He also knows a lot of things about Western culture as Nur said. He is an ordinary person like everyone in that century but he is like a nobel person as in the last century. He knows a lot about Hamlet, Michelangelo etc. and he compares himself with them. He feels very anxious. we can feel this emotion in these lines
ReplyDelete"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
Distrube the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decision and revision which a minute will reverse."
In here, he hears the comments others make about his inadequacies and he criticize himself for presuming emotional interaction could be possible at all. Because of these thoughts he fells uncomfortable, anxious and fearful. He knows that he can never actualize the ideal western man.
In this poem reader is stuck with numerous complex themes. the most complicated aspect of the poem,however is not the situation itseflbut the mindset of the main character J. Alfred prufrock is a man who lives in a mundane world where people go though the motivations rather than actually live. as a result of living in this world narrator is bored, lonely and hopeless. while he would ultimately like to find love and change his lifestyle, his covardice and fear make that impossible....
ReplyDeleteMelek Özer
ReplyDeleteThe poem starts with an epigraph. This epigraph is a quotation from Dante's Inferno. It refers to a meeting between Dante and Guido da Montefeltro who is imprisoned in a flame in Hell, relates his shameful, evil life to Dante only because he thinks Dante will never go back to earth and repeat it.
Here is the translation of the epigraph:
"If I thought my answer were given to anyone who would ever return to the world,
this flame would stand still without moving any further.
But since never from this abyss has anyone ever returned alive, if what I hear is true, without fear of infamy I answer you."
Prufrock himself is suffering from multiple personalities of sorts, and that he embodies both Guido and Dante in the Inferno. One is the storyteller; the other the listener who later reveals the story to the world.
Allegorically, the Inferno represents the three types of sin. These three types of sin also provide the three main divisions of Dante's Hell: Upper Hell (the first 5 Circles) for the self-indulgent sins; Circles 6 and 7 for the violent sins; and Circles 8 and 9 for the malicious sins. Guido da Montefeltro is imprisoned in 8th. circle of the hell. He is doomed to infamy and there is no way out from there.
In the poem, Prufrock is jealous of Michelangelo, famous artist(in my opinion).Because all the women in the tea party talk about Michelangelo he is not popular among them. His indecisiveness and inability to act resluts from this. his physical apperance is not bright, too such as his baldness. Michelangelo is an obstacle between the spaeker and the women. He feels like this because he has no belief in himself. he is obsessed with his inferiority. with this aspects the poem reflects the Twentieth century modernism. The pessimist atmosphere, the inability to act, and waste of human life ideas in the poem reflects his period explicitly.
ReplyDeletein this poem, poet and the speaker is different.
ReplyDeletealso audience and speaker's expectedsubject are not clear.
poet uses fragmantation, allegoey,irony and extented metaphor.
it's theme is frustration of expectations.
he expected that with his knowledge, he will be a noble person. but because he is living in a society with so many people around him knowing about high level things, although he is an educated man, he is convicted to be an ordinary man.
he also feels fear because he has not any self courage.
because he thinks that he can not be an ideal wesztern man.
he feels himself inferior.
Elif Kılıç
ReplyDeleteThe persona, Prufrock cannot realize himself in modern time so he develops anxious feelings. Through the whole poem we can observe it easily. Because of his anxiety, he can't state anything but suggest. In addition, one of the reasons of his anxiety is about his appearance. He reflects his frustration about appearance on stanzas. He can't act out because he has some barriers which prevent him. His deficiency directs him to criticise everything which is pleasant. For example: he criticizes women who speak to Michelangelo who is very handsome. His fragmentation is available through the poem.
Öznur zötürk
ReplyDeleteNo! 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.
In this stanza the speaker compares him with Prince Hamlet.Hamlet postpones to take revenge from his uncle in order to prove his guilth first, and at the end Haamlet acted and killed his uncle.He is known as hero.However, Prufrock has no courage to do a heroic deed.He sees himself as a secondary character who is used by playwright to develop or start same scenes.It shows that he has quite low esteem.
This poem is in a way different from its counterparts because it's not actually a "poem". We can basically understand that through the refrains. Here, we see that Prufrock is an indecisive man and he seems himself inadequate in many aspects. Especially he doesn't sees himself good-loking and that's why he can't approach women. Through the poem, we see that he resembles himself to Prince Hamlet. According to existent knowledge, Prince Hamlet is also an indecisive person. But he says "No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be". This also shows his feelings of inadequacy about himself, citing that he doesn't have the noble deeds or simply the looks of a prince.
ReplyDeleteGulnoza
ReplyDeleteThe title of the poem is Eliot's first hint that this is not a traditional love poem at all. 'J. Alfred Prufrock' is a farcial name, and Eliot wanted the subliminal connotation of a 'prude' in a 'frock.' (The original title was ' Prufrock Among the Women.') This emasculation contributes to a number of themes Eliot will explore revolving around paralysis and heroism, but the name also has personal meaning for Eliot.
He wrote the poem in 1909 while a graduate student at Harvard (though he reviseed it over the next few years eventually publishing it in 1915 and the book form in 1917), and at that time he signed his name as 'T.Stearns Eliot.'
J. Alfred Prufrock’un Aşk Şarkısı
ReplyDeleteS’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo. (*)
Gidelim öyleyse, sen ve ben,
Eterlenmiş hasta gibi bir masada
Serilmişken akşam göğe karşı;
Bildik yarı ıssız sokaklar arasından geçerek gidelim
Tek gecelik ucuz otellerdeki huzursuz gecelerin
Mırıldanan inziva köşelerine
Ve bıçkı tozlu ve istiridye kabuklu lokantalara:
Sinsi bir niyetin usandırıcı bir savı gibi
Ezici bir soruya seni sürükleyen sokaklara…
Ah, “bu nedir? ” diye sorma.
Gidelim ve yapalım görüşmemizi.
Gelir ve gider kadınlar odada
Konuşurlar Michalengelo hakkında.
Pencere camlarına sırtını sürten sarı sis
Pencere camlarına burnunu sürten sarı duman
Akşamın köşelerinde dilini yaladı,
Lağım sularının gölcüklerinde oyalandı,
Bacalardan yağan kurumun sırtına düşmesine aldırmadı,
Akıp gitti taraçada, ansızın sıçradı,
Ve görerek bunun yumuşak bir Ekim gecesi olduğunu,
Kıvrıldı bir kere evin etrafında, ve uykuya daldı.
Ve zaman olacaktır mutlak
ReplyDeleteSokak boyunca kayan o sarı duman için,
Sürterek sırtını pencere camlarına;
Zaman olacaktır, zaman olacaktır
Karşılaştığın yüzleri karşılayacak bir yüzü hazırlamak için;
Öldüreceğin ve yaratacağın bir zaman,
Ve bütün çalışmalar için ve yükselten
Ve tabağına bir soru bırakan ellerin günleri için;
Senin için zaman ve benim için zaman,
Ve daha da zaman yüz tane kararsızlığa,
Ve yüz tane görüntü ve düzelti için,
Kızarmış ekmekten ve çaydan önce.
Gelir ve gider kadınlar odada
Konuşurlar Michalengelo hakkında.
Ve zaman olacaktır mutlak
“Cüret edebilir miyim? ” diye sormaya ve “cüret edebilir miyim? ”
Geri dönmeye zaman ve merdivenlerden inmeye,
Saçımın ortasında kel bir lekeyle –
[Diyecekler: “Nasıl da seyrelmiş saçı! ”]
Yakası sıkıca yanağımı bastıran sabah ceketim,
Soylu ve gösterişsizdir kravatım, fakat basit bir iğneyle fark edilir –
[Diyecekler: “Nasıl da ince kolları ve bacakları! ”]
Cüret edebilir miyim
Kâinatı rahatsız etmeye?
Bir dakikada yeterli zaman vardır
Bir dakikayı ters yüz edecek kararlara ve düzeltmelere.
Zaten biliyordum onların hepsini, biliyordum hepsini:
Biliyordum akşamları, sabahları, ikindileri,
Ömrümün ölçüsünü aldım kahve kaşıklarıyla;
Biliyorum uzak bir odadaki müziğin altında
Ölen bir düşüşle ölmekte olan sesleri.
Öyleyse nasıl yeltenebilirim?
Ve zaten biliyordum gözleri, hepsini biliyordum -
İfade edilmiş bir ibarede seni mıhlayan gözleri,
Ve ben ifade edildiğimde, yığılmışım iğne ucunda,
Mıhlanmışken ve kıvranırken duvarda,
Nasıl başlamalıyım öyleyse
Günlerimin ve yollarımın bütün bu kırıntılarını tükürmeye?
Ve nasıl yeltenebilirim ki?
Ve zaten biliyordum kolları, hepsini biliyordum –
Bilezikli ve beyaz ve çıplak kolları
[Ama kumral saçlarla örtünmüş lambanın ışığında! ]
Beni bu denli konudan uzaklaştıran
Bir entarinin kokusu mu?
Bir masa boyunca yatan ya da bir şalla sarmalanmış kollar.
Ve nasıl yeltenmeliyim öyleyse?
Ve nasıl başlamalıyım?
…..
ReplyDeleteSöyleyeyim mi, alacakaranlıkta dar sokaklardan gittiğimi
Ve pencerelerine yaslanmış, gömlek kolları kıvrık
Yalnız erkeklerin pipolarından yükselen dumanları seyrettiğimi? …
Suskun denizlerin tabanında seğirten
Bir çift hırpani pençe olsaydım keşke.
…..
Ve ikindiler, akşamlar, uyur huzurla!
Pürüzsüz uzun parmaklarla,
Uyumuş… yorgun… ya da hasta numarası yapar,
Yayılmış yerde, burada seninle benim aramda.
Acaba, çaydan ve pastalardan ve dondurmalardan sonra,
Bu anı kendi bunalımına zorlayacak gücüm olur mu?
Ama ağlayışıma ve orucuma rağmen, ağlayışıma ve duama rağmen,
[Dazlaklaşmaya başlayan] kafamın bir tabakta getirildiğini görmeme rağmen,
Bir kâhin değilim ben – ve büyük bir mesele değildir bu;
En yüce olduğum anımın titreştiğini gördüm,
Ve gördüm o ebedi Kavas’ın paltomu tuttuğunu, ve kıs kıs güldüğünü,
Ve kısacası, korkmuştum.
Ve değer miydi tüm bunlara,
Fincanlardan, reçelden, çaydan sonra,
Porselenler arasında, seninle benim konuşmamız arasında,
Ve değer miydi tüm bunlara
Isırıp atarken meseleyi bir gülüşle,
Kâinatı bir top gibi sıkıştırmak,
Ezen bazı sorulara doğru yuvarlamak,
Söylemek: “Lazar’ım ben, ölümden gelirim
Her şeyi size anlatmaya geldim, her şeyi anlatacağım size” –
Eğer biri, kadının başına bir yastık yerleştirirken
Deseydi ki: “Bu değil kesinlikle benim meramım.
Bu değil, kesinlikle”.
Ve değer miydi tüm bunlara,
ReplyDeleteDeğer miydi
Gün batımlarından ve avlu kapılarından ve çisentili sokaklardan sonra,
Romanlardan, çay fincanlarından, yerde sürünen eteklerden sonra —
Ve bundan, ve çok daha fazlasından? —
Meramımı tam olarak anlatmak imkansız!
Ama bir büyülü fener gibi bir ekran üstüne fırlatır sinir örüntüsünü:
Değer miydi
Eğer biri, yerleştirirken bir yastığı ya da fırlatırken bir şalı,
Ve dönerek pencereye doğru, deseydi:
“Bu değil kesinlikle,
Meramım bu değil kesinlikle”.
Hayır! Ne Prens Hamlet’im ben, ne de olmak istedim;
Bir saray mabeyincisiyim, öyleyim ki
Geliştiririm süreci, bir ya da iki sahneyi başlatırım,
Prens’e tavsiyede bulunurum; şüphesiz, önemsizim,
Hürmetkârım, yararlı olmaktan hoşnudum,
Becerikli, tedbirli, ve çok titizim;
Övgü doluyum, fakat biraz kalın kafalıyım
Bazen, aslında, neredeyse saçma –
Handiyse, bazen, Soytarı’yım.
Yaşlanıyorum… yaşlanıyorum…
Pantolon paçalarımı kıvırarak giyineceğim.
Saçlarımı arkadan mı ayırsam? Bir şeftali yemeye cüret edebilir miyim?
Beyaz flanel pantolon giyineceğim, ve yürüyeceğim kumsalda.
Duydum denizkızlarının birbirlerine şarkı söylediklerini.
Sanmam ki benim için şakısınlar.
Dalgalarda denize doğru açıldıklarını gördüm
Tarayarak dalgaların geriye uçmuş beyaz saçlarını
Ağartıp karartırken suları esen rüzgâr.
Oyalandık denizin odalarında
Kırmızı ve kahverengi deniz yosunlarıyla taçlanmış denizkızları yanında
İnsan sesleri bizi uyandırana ve boğulana dek.
T.S.Eliot (1888-1965)
(1948 yılı Nobel Edebiyat Ödülü sahibi)
Çeviren: İsmail Haydar Aksoy
(*) “Eğer düşünseydim dünyaya yeniden dönebilecek birine yanıt verdiğimi, bu alev titremeyi bırakırdı. Fakat eğer duyduğum doğruysa, yani bu derinliklerden kimse asla yaşayarak dönmeyeceği için, yanıtlarım seni rezilce korkuya kapılmadan”. Dante’nin “Cehennem”inden (Canto 27, 61-67) .
The women come and go
ReplyDeletetalking of Michelangelo
When I say this lines I see great harmony between them According to me poet is someone who is shy about women and envious of Michelangelo who is like a hero among women because of his intelligence and ability about painting. Poet is old and now he thinks that it is too late for changing his life. He thinks taht he is at the end of his life and he can not turn back his youthness lie a person in the hell. Poet resembles himself to Hamlet he thinks that they resembles in shyness and indecisiveness but there is a difference hamlet have enough time to change everthing but poet does not. He thinks taht he has no importance in the world because he says ı dont think the birds are singing for me . Finally ı liked this poem.
This poem is the first modernist poem. The poet modernizes the form by
ReplyDeleteremoving the implied listeners and focusing on prafrock’s interiority and isolation. The epigraph to this poem, form
Jiyan says :
Dante’s Inferno, describes Prufrock’s ideal listener: One who is as lost as the speaker and will never betray to the world the content of Prufrock’s present confessions. One of the most prominent formal characteristics of this work is the use of refrains.