Germany's Nobel laureate of 1999, Gunter Grass, once described a gathering of poets, writing, "the world would come to an end, and in the midst of the rumbling and roaring these gentlemen would quarrel over the correct or incorrect use of metric feet."
The assembly served as Grass's premise for a novella, The Meeting at Telgte. Part fiction and part history, the work tells of a group of German poets who came together at the end of the 30 Years War in 1647 to strengthen "the last remaining bond within a divided nation: its language and literature."
The Taipei International Poetry Festival (
By last Sunday evening, however, the world was in crisis and those poets who had managed to arrive in Taipei -- the majority of those invited, in fact -- were sheltering from Typhoon Nari in the coffee lounge of the United Hotel as Taipei flooded around them. The festival was temporarily on hold, and an impromptu conference occurred.
Seated in armchairs and leading the discussion on poetry, which took place in English, were two Swedes from the Nobel committee, Kjell Espmark and Goren Malmqvist, both poets and scholars. On a sofa, his silver hair tied in a pony tail and without his characteristic beard, sat Jaan Kaplinski, patriarch of Estonian poetry and also, perhaps incongruously, former member of the Estonian parliament.
Germany's Dieter Graf was there, rubbing his fingers over his chin. In a corner and listening intently was Japan's Gozo Yoshimasu, with his wife Marilya, who dances in accompaniment to his readings. Exiled Chinese poet, Yang Liang (楊煉), spoke vociferously of recent changes in Chinese poetry. And curly-haired Marc Delouze of France also joined the discussion, saying those present were lucky to catch him on such a day, as he was clean shaven.
Not present were the Americans, including 1992 Nobel laureate Derek Walcott and Chinese-American poet Arthur Sze. Because of the combined hassles caused by the terrorist attacks on the US last week and the typhoon, they found it impossible to come.
In total, 16 foreign poets made it to the festival, representing 13 different nations. About 300 Taiwanese poets were also scheduled for involvement in the various readings, seminars and discussions.
As with any meeting of poets, it is unlikely that the festival will arrive at any conclusions. Still, there may be some small accords, such as the feeling expressed by many participants so far -- that language, any language, can communicate.
"I've never been to a festival with poets from so many different Asian countries," remarked J. Neil C. Garcia, a poet from the Philippines. "I think it's wonderful. Even if I can't understand the words that are being spoken, I can still hear other poets speaking, and maybe that's enough."
Though circumstances beyond control have played havoc with the festival's schedule, events open to the public will continue both today and tomorrow, featuring many of the festival's distinguished guests. A poetry reading with Marc Delouze, Dieter Graf, Jaan Kaplinski and Erik Lindner of the Netherlands will take place this afternoon from 3pm to 5pm at the United Hotel (
Yang Liang (
Marc Delouze, France: "I am a sort of classical poet in certain ways, because I give a lot of importance to the style, to the writing, to the printing. But when I say my poems, I belong somewhat to the performers also, you know. I make it in a certain way, because I don't read my poems in front of people, but I go in the public [into the crowd or audience]. Each poem I take to one person. I don't say it to everyone, because I think poetry is always a relation between one and one. As part of my readings, I come and I read to you one poem and I give you the poem, and then I resume and read to another person ?" Giving the poems "is a way of showing how alone we are. It is like the title of my last book, Tu es beaucoup a te croire tout seul (You are many to believe you are alone). It means, in your loneliness, you are in a crowd."
"You know, the poet has no answer, just a question. If you read a good poem, it expresses a very good, deep question. And then if you feel that this question is your question as a reader, then the poem is for you. Because it's your poem, it's your question. I don't tell you. You must ask this question. That's why I give the poems in my readings. Because I have questions about life, about death, about love, about sex, about anything. And I give it to you, and then it becomes your poem and your question and your language -- if the poem is good."
J. Neil C. Garcia, Philippines: "All poetry has to be queer [off-center], because all poetry should be a questioning of what is there. Poetry is an alternative vision to what is present. In that sense it's always queer."
"I would like you to play down ? my gayness and to play up the fact that I came here to interact with other writers coming from different races, and to believe again in language, you know, which, maybe being an academic and being a theorist, or critic, destroyed in me. I'm here because I believe that language is communication and that poetry is, maybe, the most beautiful language there is. It's language raised to the highest level of feeling and deliberation. Because every word counts in a poem. But of course what I am is part of what I write. I can't deny that."
"The title of my latest book is Kaluluwa, which is the Filipino [or Tagalog] for `soul.' Because of my rather close brush with mortality and just the way the last year was so morbid for me -- my father was dying, my best friend jumped off a building, and I was sick -- I needed to speak to my soul. So it's actually a cycle of 60 poems where I just basically address my soul ?"
"What poetry does is it forces a language to confront its own limits. Poetry is a way of seeing. And your language, in the end, becomes simply your tool to describe what you're seeing. When poststructuralism says that language is everything, it's lying. Because it's not everything ... You know, criticism cannot console you, but poetry and art can."
Gozo Yoshimasu, 62, has been honored with top literary prizes in his native Japan, where he now teaches at Josai University. He has traveled widely, "performing" his poetry throughout North America, Europe and Asia. His wife Marilya dances in accompaniment to his readings. "Time does not pass away. If time passes away, there is a vacancy."
Kjell Espmark is a poet, member of the Swedish Academy and author of The Nobel Prize in Literature (1999), an analysis of criteria he and colleagues use in selecting Nobel laureates for the literature prize.
Jaan Kaplinski from Estonia is one of Europe's foremost poets. He has previously been named a candidate for the Nobel Prize for Literature: "You control the cosmic forces with words, but you have to be very careful ? a very balanced, harmonious person."
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