The Poem
Why does this written doe bound through these written woods?
For a drink of written water from a spring
whose surface will xerox her soft muzzle?
Why does she lift her head; does she hear something?
Perched on four slim legs borrowed from the truth,
she pricks up her ears beneath my fingertips.
Silence - this word also rustles across the page
and parts the boughs
that have sprouted from the word "woods."
Lying in wait, set to pounce on the blank page,
are letters up to no good,
clutches of clauses so subordinate
they'll never let her get away.
Each drop of ink contains a fair supply
of hunters, equipped with squinting eyes behind their sights,
prepared to swarm the sloping pen at any moment,
surround the doe, and slowly aim their guns.
They forget that what's here isn't life.
Other laws, black on white, obtain.
The twinkling of an eye will take as long as I say,
and will, if I wish, divide into tiny eternities,
full of bullets stopped in mid-flight.
Not a thing will ever happen unless I say so.
Without my blessing, not a leaf will fall,
not a blade of grass will bend beneath that little hoof's full stop.
Is there then a world
where I rule absolutely on fate?
A time I bind with chains of signs?
An existence become endless at my bidding?
The joy of writing.
The power of preserving.
Revenge of a mortal hand.
Summary-
The title of “The Joy of Writing” by Wislawa Szymborska quite literally defines what the theme of the poem is. Wislawa Szymborska was a Polish Nobel Laureate and she lived through the Nazi occupation of Germany. The atrocities faced by Poland during the World War 2 had a great influence on her poems. Wislawa’s poems are generally about defiance of the illogical and immoral restrictions that were levied upon people during the wars and “The Joy of Writing” is no exception to this fact. Through the poem, the writer expresses her feelings on the restrictions on the fundamental individualistic freedom that the Polish society faced during the Nazi occupation, and all through it, the poet tries to reiterate the fact that no matter how much the people be suppressed, the moment a person picks up a pen, he comes the master of his own world—the world that he creates in his writings—and even the oppressor might be at his disposal in his World.
The poet begins by describing a doe. The doe symbolizes the subject of a poem in generic. She asks that why does this doe wander in these “written woods” for a drink of water from the surface of a spring that would show the reflection of her muzzle while she drinks it. The word written woods symbolizes that the poet is talking about the imagery that a poem brings with it. As soon as the poet writes the word “woods” and “doe”, the scene of a doe bounding through the woods appears before the eyes of the reader. She further goes on to ask why does the doe lift her head, perhaps she heard something. She then affirms the remarkability of poetic freedom as even the word “Silence” makes a sound when the pencil screeches the white paper and tears through the trees that have already appeared before us owing to the imagery of the woods, and perhaps the doe heard this sound of Silence. In other words it may refer to the fact that the word Silence when read, conjures up a very unique environment in our minds that almost shouts in our ears. The poet further goes on to say that the doe is standing on her slim four legs borrowed from the truth, which implies that poetry is strongly derived from what we see and hear in the real World. The imagery that the doe is pricking her ear right underneath the fingertips of the poet as she scribbles the word “Silence” on paper is a very strong affirmation of what the poet is trying to convey—In his writings, it is the Writer who rules absolutely on fate. The fact that the first stanza is in the form of questions further aggravate this viewpoint, since almost all the questions that she asks in the first stanza have a unanimous answer—It has happening because the writer is writing it down; because he wants it to happen; because it is at his own discretion.
In the second stanza, Wislawa becomes more critical about the subject of the poem and it is perhaps a description of what a critic can do to the subject he is writing about. The thoughts of a critic lie in wait, all set to attack the blank page in the form of words. The letters that the critic scribbles on the page are upto no good and they are looking for the smallest perceptible mistake about the subject, as if a hunter is eyeing the doe with a squinted gaze. The clutches of the clauses on the page are so subordinate, that they’ll never let the subject get away cheaply. She says that each drop of ink contains enough ink to write down ample amount of words that would surround the subject, rendering it at their mercy, much the same way that hunters would gather around the doe with squinting eyes, prepared to pounce on her with their guns.
Wislawa goes onto to say that “they” forget that this is not real world. Here “they” refers to the subject of the poem, expressed as doe in the poem, and is mainly aimed at the oppressors. They forget that this isn’t real world where it is their rule and discretion that matters. This is the Writer’s World in the poem where everything is guided by his whims and fancies. He decides all the laws of black on white i.e. ink on paper, might be an ironical deviation from Modern World as it may be referred to as the reciprocal of Apartheid. Even the twinkling of the eye on paper occurs for as long as the writer wants; and if he wishes, these twinklings can be divided into tiny eternities that go on forever. He can make the impossible happen in his poems and stop the obvious from occurring—can stop bullets in mid-air on one hand and not even a leaf in his imagery would fall until it receives the blessings of his nod. Not a single blade of grass in his creation would bend beneath the hoofs a passer-by until he says, or rather writes down the same. Through this stanza, the poet has tried to convey the message that the power of speech breaks all shackles of oppression where the entire World is spun by the hands of the Writer and everything is at his discretion. His writings can change the course of mankind, and make dynasties fall.
The poet further goes on to ask is there a World where she can rule absolutely and endlessly; is there a time she can bind in chains and order to stop? Can an existence become endless just at her nod? The answer to all these questions is unanimous. It is in her creations that she can achieve all that—where she is answerable to none and Master of All. She closes by saying that the Joy of Writing is the Power of Persevering. It is the revenge of a mortal hand. When a human, oppressed all his life and perseveres through all the atrocities decides to pick up the pen and do something about it, his writings can literally change the course of nature. History is evidence to the poet’s argument. The power of Writing is truly the Revenge of a Mortal Hand.
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| Wislawa Szymborska |
For a drink of written water from a spring
whose surface will xerox her soft muzzle?
Why does she lift her head; does she hear something?
Perched on four slim legs borrowed from the truth,
she pricks up her ears beneath my fingertips.
Silence - this word also rustles across the page
and parts the boughs
that have sprouted from the word "woods."
Lying in wait, set to pounce on the blank page,
are letters up to no good,
clutches of clauses so subordinate
they'll never let her get away.
Each drop of ink contains a fair supply
of hunters, equipped with squinting eyes behind their sights,
prepared to swarm the sloping pen at any moment,
surround the doe, and slowly aim their guns.
They forget that what's here isn't life.
Other laws, black on white, obtain.
The twinkling of an eye will take as long as I say,
and will, if I wish, divide into tiny eternities,
full of bullets stopped in mid-flight.
Not a thing will ever happen unless I say so.
Without my blessing, not a leaf will fall,
not a blade of grass will bend beneath that little hoof's full stop.
Is there then a world
where I rule absolutely on fate?
A time I bind with chains of signs?
An existence become endless at my bidding?
The joy of writing.
The power of preserving.
Revenge of a mortal hand.
Summary-
The title of “The Joy of Writing” by Wislawa Szymborska quite literally defines what the theme of the poem is. Wislawa Szymborska was a Polish Nobel Laureate and she lived through the Nazi occupation of Germany. The atrocities faced by Poland during the World War 2 had a great influence on her poems. Wislawa’s poems are generally about defiance of the illogical and immoral restrictions that were levied upon people during the wars and “The Joy of Writing” is no exception to this fact. Through the poem, the writer expresses her feelings on the restrictions on the fundamental individualistic freedom that the Polish society faced during the Nazi occupation, and all through it, the poet tries to reiterate the fact that no matter how much the people be suppressed, the moment a person picks up a pen, he comes the master of his own world—the world that he creates in his writings—and even the oppressor might be at his disposal in his World.
The poet begins by describing a doe. The doe symbolizes the subject of a poem in generic. She asks that why does this doe wander in these “written woods” for a drink of water from the surface of a spring that would show the reflection of her muzzle while she drinks it. The word written woods symbolizes that the poet is talking about the imagery that a poem brings with it. As soon as the poet writes the word “woods” and “doe”, the scene of a doe bounding through the woods appears before the eyes of the reader. She further goes on to ask why does the doe lift her head, perhaps she heard something. She then affirms the remarkability of poetic freedom as even the word “Silence” makes a sound when the pencil screeches the white paper and tears through the trees that have already appeared before us owing to the imagery of the woods, and perhaps the doe heard this sound of Silence. In other words it may refer to the fact that the word Silence when read, conjures up a very unique environment in our minds that almost shouts in our ears. The poet further goes on to say that the doe is standing on her slim four legs borrowed from the truth, which implies that poetry is strongly derived from what we see and hear in the real World. The imagery that the doe is pricking her ear right underneath the fingertips of the poet as she scribbles the word “Silence” on paper is a very strong affirmation of what the poet is trying to convey—In his writings, it is the Writer who rules absolutely on fate. The fact that the first stanza is in the form of questions further aggravate this viewpoint, since almost all the questions that she asks in the first stanza have a unanimous answer—It has happening because the writer is writing it down; because he wants it to happen; because it is at his own discretion.
In the second stanza, Wislawa becomes more critical about the subject of the poem and it is perhaps a description of what a critic can do to the subject he is writing about. The thoughts of a critic lie in wait, all set to attack the blank page in the form of words. The letters that the critic scribbles on the page are upto no good and they are looking for the smallest perceptible mistake about the subject, as if a hunter is eyeing the doe with a squinted gaze. The clutches of the clauses on the page are so subordinate, that they’ll never let the subject get away cheaply. She says that each drop of ink contains enough ink to write down ample amount of words that would surround the subject, rendering it at their mercy, much the same way that hunters would gather around the doe with squinting eyes, prepared to pounce on her with their guns.
Wislawa goes onto to say that “they” forget that this is not real world. Here “they” refers to the subject of the poem, expressed as doe in the poem, and is mainly aimed at the oppressors. They forget that this isn’t real world where it is their rule and discretion that matters. This is the Writer’s World in the poem where everything is guided by his whims and fancies. He decides all the laws of black on white i.e. ink on paper, might be an ironical deviation from Modern World as it may be referred to as the reciprocal of Apartheid. Even the twinkling of the eye on paper occurs for as long as the writer wants; and if he wishes, these twinklings can be divided into tiny eternities that go on forever. He can make the impossible happen in his poems and stop the obvious from occurring—can stop bullets in mid-air on one hand and not even a leaf in his imagery would fall until it receives the blessings of his nod. Not a single blade of grass in his creation would bend beneath the hoofs a passer-by until he says, or rather writes down the same. Through this stanza, the poet has tried to convey the message that the power of speech breaks all shackles of oppression where the entire World is spun by the hands of the Writer and everything is at his discretion. His writings can change the course of mankind, and make dynasties fall.
The poet further goes on to ask is there a World where she can rule absolutely and endlessly; is there a time she can bind in chains and order to stop? Can an existence become endless just at her nod? The answer to all these questions is unanimous. It is in her creations that she can achieve all that—where she is answerable to none and Master of All. She closes by saying that the Joy of Writing is the Power of Persevering. It is the revenge of a mortal hand. When a human, oppressed all his life and perseveres through all the atrocities decides to pick up the pen and do something about it, his writings can literally change the course of nature. History is evidence to the poet’s argument. The power of Writing is truly the Revenge of a Mortal Hand.
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