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I need to know anything known on the poem Summer Night from his first collection of poetry 'let us compare mythologies'. anything on the analysis or historical content would help and would be greatly appreciated. thanks

Hi Chowdongping ~

I hope someone can help you. Have you searched Jarkko's and Marie Mazur's site for something? I don't have that book, and I've never read the poem, so I can't even give you a good guess. I hope someone is able to and will.

Welcome to the Forum, in any case. Are you doing an analysis of it, or incorporating it into another piece of writing?

~ Lizzy

This poem seems to be about the subjects' awkward attempt to find harmony with nature. They leave their plastic environment to appreciate the summer night but discover that their harmony and comfort is only with man-made amenities.

They try to be naked but the stones they sit on and the stream they swim in are uncomfortable and cold to them. Their effort to force themselves to be natural and become part of the night's beauty induces a physical sign of discomfort - goose bumps. Their bodies, even without clothes, remain plastic as a man-made structure and as out of place in the natural scene as a cell-phone tower. The moonlight is too bright for their eyes.

"I am alone" - they are not satisfied by this beauty. They give up and flee on asphalt "highways, in...armoured cars, back to air-conditioned homes.

Feel free to confute me, anyone.

I'd sure like to read that poem! It reminds me to a "t" of an attorney I once went with.....unbelievable. [Not a blanket comment on those who 'reside' here .] Had I the ability, it sounds like a poem I could have written myself, based on my own experience.

Nathan, would you mind copying and pasting ~ or just typing ~ the poem here for us? Thanks. Great to see you ~ and sorry you weren't at the Event.....now, please don't tell me at this point that you were!

~ Lizzy

Hey Lizzy

I wasn't at the Cohen event - guess I should have been. I'll know for the next one.

There's a lot of insight to be derived from Cohen's poetry - you should get his books. I'm sure you'll like them as much as you do his music.

Here's Summer Night:

The moon dangling wet like a half-plucked eye
was bright for my friends bred in close avenues
of stone, and let us see too much.
The vast treeless field and huge wounded sky,
opposing each other like continents,
made us and our smoking fire quite irrelevant
between their eternal attitudes.
We knew we were intruders. Worse. Intruders
unnoticed and undespised.
Through orchards of black weeds
with a sigh the river urged its silver flesh.
From their damp nests bull-frogs croaked
warnings, but to each other.
And occasional birds, in a private grudge,
flew noiselessly at the moon.
What could we do? We ran naked into the river,
but our flesh insulted the thick slow water.
We tried to sit naked on the stones,
but they were cold and we soon dressed.
One squeezed a little human music from his box:
mostly it was lost in the grass
where one struggled in an ignorant embrace.
One argued with the slight old hills
and the goose-fleshed naked girls, I will not be old.
One, for his protest, registered a sexual groan.
And the girl in my arms
broke suddenly away, and shouted for us all,
Help! Help! I am alone. But then all subtlety was gone
and it was stupid to be obvious before the field and sky,
experts in simplicity. So we fled on the highways,
in our armoured cars, back to air-conditioned homes.

Peace.

now that's really an interesting poem. it really shows how far from nature people from cities are. how uncomfortable they feel in an environment that is not made to serve man, but which is in a balance on its own. they wait for something from out there coming to them, offering them something, asking for something. but they have to realise that everything works as well without them and cannot feel comfortable there, but think they are intruders. there are no shops selling things, there is no audience applauding, there is no place to complain, no city counsil to ask for more comfortable seats. what a pity that they don't konw how to appreciate the nature, to give up part of their attitudes in order to be able to feel closer to it and be welcomed. i suppose a lot of people feel as uncomfortable out there. and loneliness is, in my eyes, the only way to get to some insight in this world's system.

Hi Annaedith ~

I like the respect and reverance for Nature that I see in Leonard's writing of this poem. It shows an understanding of it, and acknowledges how the young girl's actions revealed her own level of discomfort with it [and might as well return to the "close avenues of stone" ~ where she could more easily get confirmation of her existence]. He seemed more willing to merge respectfully, or at least make a genuine attempt to, and to maintain the gentle, quiet attitude and position that would allow for that to occur.

I like the ways you described the cities.

******************************************************

Yes, Nathan ~

You really should have been there . Well, now you can plan for Berlin [or, maybe, even Hydra for a starter ~ but, definitely Berlin!]. Thanks for sharing this awesome poem here ~ and, yes, I know you're right about Leonard's books!

~ Lizzy

He seemed more willing to merge respectfully, or at least make a genuine attempt to, and to maintain the gentle, quiet attitude and position that would allow for that to occur.

Beg your pardon, but did I read a different version of this poem...everybody in this poem freaked out and ran back to the city.

Hi Midnight ~

This is my take on this poem:

". . . was bright for my friends bred in close avenues
of stone, and let us see too much." ~ true that he includes himself here; however, it seems to be a way to set the scene as a whole and a segue into describing the vastness.

". . . made us and our smoking fire quite irrelevant" ~ acknowledgement of how miniscule man is in contrast to Nature. This mere acknowledgement come with a sense of awe and reverance, with those who bother to grasp and verbalize it.

". . . between their eternal attitudes." ~ another recognition of the realities of Nature; insight and acknowledgement that come only as a result of sensitivity to its realities.

"We knew we were intruders." ~ Not literally being "intruders;" however, this recognizes, through its phrasing, the pristine and sacred nature of where they were.

"Worse. Intruders unnoticed and undespised." ~ An implicit plea/expression of desire to be recognized by Nature, to even be relevant in its midst; to be considered anywhere near as real , as to even be noticed ~ despised, if necessary. It hearkens to what they say about the need for children to feel validated ~ that 'negative' attention is better than no attention at all. So, to be yelled at is better than to be ignored. In this case, with Nature, neither is happening. That perspective, again, is one of acknowledging how 'inconsequential' one feels in the presence of the all-powerful, whether it be a parent, Nature, or G~d. Their relative 'unimportance' in this scenario is established.

". . . with a sigh the river urged its silver flesh." ~ the river is perceived and described in appealing terms.

". . . bull-frogs croaked warnings, but to each other." ~ even the bull-frogs were ignoring them. The expression of this 'being ignored' reveals a desire to be a part of it, as well as a humble recognition of being the 'intruder,' which is likewise with the line that follow:

". . . in a private grudge, flew noiselessly at the moon." ~ sensitivity to the animals' awareness of their presence [many who go into the woods/Nature just barge, blunder, and bungle on through and miss literally hundreds of creatures, and have zero awareness that they are intruding on these birds/animals/fowl habitat, i.e. homes ~ much less be aware of their 'psychic' effect on them].

"What could we do? We ran naked into the river,
but our flesh insulted the thick slow water." ~ so often, people feel they must do something; act. Rather than just be; just rest and take in their surroundings. Yet, his pointing this out regarding their reaction whilst being out there, and feeling so compelled, makes his awareness of that dynamic very clear. Likewise, once in the river, the river that "with a sigh urged its silver flesh," he immediately takes note that the manner of their entry "insulted" the "thick slow water" ~ water that should have been entered slowly, smoothly, and with due respect [i.e. a merging into and with vs. a confrontation of Nature].

"We tried to sit naked on the stones,
but they were cold and we soon dressed. " ~ dressing isn't an unrealistic thing to do, all things considered, but the fact is that they "tried."

"One squeezed a little human music from his box:
mostly it was lost in the grass" ~ Nature continues to 'swallow' them up, and I feel "a little human music" makes the clear distinction that "human" music [coming from out of a box] is "little" in comparison to the music of Nature; "mostly it was lost in the grass" seems to have no implication of regret that it was, but rather more that it was 'fitting' that Nature swallowed it up, even the 'smaller' aspect of nature [the grass], being fully capable of doing so. This reminds me of how 'anachronistic' bringing recorded music into these environments so often seems. 'Live' music played from crafted instruments becomes a part of the surroundings in a most agreeable way; whereas, otherwise, it would seem to be enough to let Nature provide what it will in the way of music. [If you ask me wouldn't I take a recording of Leonard and listen to him out there, well ..... ~ I didn't write the poem ]

". . . where one struggled in an ignorant embrace." ~ "ignorant" suggests that the friend, the one with the portable music player, was oblivious to the Nature around [presumably] him, and was instead preoccupied with 'his' own, carnal nature. Even the "struggled" suggests a lack of continuity and flow with anything, much less Nature.

"One argued with the slight old hills
and the goose-fleshed naked girls, I will not be old.
One, for his protest, registered a sexual groan." ~ this seems to me to be the compulsion to 'prove' one's own 'vitality' ~ the hills have survived; whereas, we will not. We will grow old, and we will die. Something about Nature quite often brings us an awareness of our own mortality.

"And the girl in my arms
broke suddenly away, and shouted for us all,
Help! Help! I am alone. But then all subtlety was gone
and it was stupid to be obvious before the field and sky,
experts in simplicity. So we fled on the highways,
in our armoured cars, back to air-conditioned homes."

~ these are the lines that sum it up, with regard to the contrast between Leonard's sensibilities, and those of the friends, manifested in the girl's actions. From his description, it sounds like he was lying there, quiet and content, taking it all in, noticing all that was going on around him [with Nature, as well as his friends], when she "broke suddenly away."

I can't remember [at the moment] from which song the [paraphrased?] line "So small against the sky" comes, but the reality is that in those wide expanses, we do feel small, insignificant, and 'alone.' Some accept this and go/try to go inward with it, to try to figure out what it all means, how they really fit in with the world and life, what their purpose is, and all those bigger questions. Others 'rail' against it, and try to melodramatize their position.

"But then all subtlety was gone
and it was stupid to be obvious before the field and sky,
experts in simplicity."

This sounds like a lament of laments. ". . . Subtlety was gone . . ." ~ [instantly!] ~ subtlety, the preferred and appropriate manner of being. He had pointed this out earlier, with regard to how they ran into the river. "Stupid" to be "obvious" ~ in front of the wisdom of Nature [in this case "the field and sky"].

". . . experts in simplicity . . ." ~ "experts" is clearly a word of admiration and respect here ~ and "simplicity," in contrast to the behaviours he's been pointing out, is the preferred manner of being. He does not seem happy with what has occurred here, at least his own spell ~ or any hope of one ~ certainly broken.

Her behaviour has an air of desperation to it. In the [originally mentioned] "close avenues of stone," there is much to distract, much that at least can cause one to not feel so alone, but out there ~ it can become painfully obvious, as it seems it did with her. With the attempts of the 'guy' with the music, the attempts, of distraction, apparently weren't really working, either ~ in terms of 'aloneness.' Leonard seemed to recognize that.

He acknowledges the "for us all" ~ yet, he seemed to be acknowledging it inwardly, through respectful contemplation; not outwardly, "shout"ing and being "stupid" and "obvious." She even seems to have somehow 'embarrassed' him in front of Nature. It sounds as though it may well have been his idea to depart. She certainly didn't seem to be 'getting it.'

"So we fled on the highways,
in our armoured cars, back to air-conditioned homes."

This doesn't say who was driving, but it sounds like they were going fast; if not literally in their cars, at least in their psyches ~ but, again, Leonard's recognition of the 'flight' on the 'highways' [the man-made paths] and the "armoured" [protected from Nature, and from having to go, and look, and be, inward] cars, and the "air-conditioned homes" [where we get to 'control' Nature, and thereby feel at least 'adequate' in relationship to it, or in at least some of their cases, 'against' it]. Back to where one can feel 'safe' and distracted again.

My feeling is that this poem, with its many observations, was written by someone feeling, at the very least, ambivalent about the situation. He acknowledged his part in it; but he seemed to do it begrudingly, with consternation. More importantly, he seemed acutely aware and respectful of the power that exists in the quiet of Nature, and the necessity of going into that quiet to be 'at one' with it, and how unnerving it can be for 'oneself' to be in that 'space,' and the issues that it can bring to the fore. When all that was 'violently' interrupted [the last straw of the interruptions], it was simply time to go! I got the sense that the 'fleeing' was more greatly a part of the friends' feeling that it was of Leonard's.

I don't know what the others did or wrote, but I know that he chose to write this poem, as he 'tried to come to terms with'[?] all that had just happened. Someone who wasn't aware of the other levels of 'being' wouldn't have even been inclined. Could be they just went straight to the frig, grabbed a beer , and settled back into that air conditioning.

I don't think we read a different version of this poem. I think we read the same version differently. But, I could be wrong .

~ Lizzy

WOW!

I take it all back.

Don’t know why but the images of the poem made me think of some of the numerous ways to interpret human “relationships” with the life itself

We come into being, shaking thick slow waters of the stream of life, which flows between heaven and earth – these eternal debaters, as they’re represented in the I Ching, for example. Life is their affair, their romance, their war, their never-ending dispute, and this great stream itself - their “creation,” - life as a whole, this great unity of innumerable appearances is only important and significant.

And each of us, taken separately, is unnoticed and even undespised here. Does anybody really see us except a tiny handful of our relatives, friends and foes? But even the best - or the worst - of us, those who dare to argue with ancient hills, and whose names are kept in history – who are they and what are they as compared with that unity of all the possible life appearances? What are their deeds as compared with that great dispute of heaven and earth?

And sometimes, when the moonlight suddenly happens to be too bright, we start to see too much and recognize our situation.
And then we feel lonely and uncomfortable here, on this wide expanse of earth, under the indifferent look of heaven; in fear, we recognize our helplessness; we chill and tremble all over – as if we were sitting naked on the rude cold stones.
And we hurry to get again the “dresses” of our incalculable masks, complicated roles, and numerous worries on; we run from ourselves trying to deaden this feeling of loneliness and abandonment, and we hide ourselves in the crowd (which is so easy to find in the city), this eternal refuge for those who didn’t find themselves, their own ways, their shipping lanes in this stream of life…


Such a kind of taoist existentialism (or existential taoism)…
Is there any sense here, I wonder

Yours,
TH.

i liked your interpretations very much, lizzy and helven, an you're so true. how easily man is lost against the greatness of the creation, and how much he likes the feeling of belonging to some group, and if it were nazis.
the greatness of creation, the incredible complicated mechanisms of thinking, self-conciusness etc, this all gives such a lot of freedom, and when discovering this, people get afraid.
most people like to be taken on the hand, to get explanations, to be told what is good and bad. even those loving LC love him for his opinions which they can take over. this is far better than taking over other, more popular or more dangerous opinions, but it still is this longing for belonging to somethig.
the question i pose myself is, is there a way to feel comfortable and at one with the whole creation, with nature and its beauty? or is man's nature made to need that much help that he cannot live but in closer borders?

With Leonard's self- and formal-study, I can see vast [appropriate term for here, eh? ] amounts of merit in your interpretation/associations with the poem, Helven . One always must be aware of the many layerings that come with what he writes . There's always going to be greater depth . I love the way you've explained it !

If I'm understanding you correctly, Annaedith, I do feel there are those who are able to merge and live with Nature very gracefully and beautifully, though they may be relatively few. Even those who choose to live in solitary fashion in the wilds [despite the hardships' ability to make it an arduous and grueling process] seem to come out on the other side, preferring Nature to "Man" and all the accoutrements. I had to laugh when you said, "even those loving LC love him for his opinions which they can take over. this is far better than taking over other, more popular or more dangerous opinions . . . ," as it seems some of his opinions seem quite 'dangerous' to many .

Thanks for your compliment on my interpretation, Annaedith. I addressed it more literally, with regard to Leonard's own comfort and desire to be at peace with Nature in the poem, in answer to Midnight. So, you're taking it "all" [your one comment ] back, eh, Midnight? Of course, I understand that, that one comment was contingent on the whole, but I couldn't resist .

~ Lizzy

May I suggest that one reads this poem again and then reads Wordsworth's 'Daffodils.'

"An emotion recollected in tranquility."

In his "The Ruined Cottage," he has The Old Man saying of their surroundings, "I see things you cannot see."

'Summer Night' is a reflection not only on a series of incidences on one evening, but a reflection on how far Man has lost his path on each diurnal turn. The more powerful Man becomes, the further away from his Earthly womb he travels.

Are you saying there's plagiarism ~ or inspiration ~ at hand or afoot? [Interesting how our extremities are used to approximate the same thing.]