This poem was inspired by the books of two modernist writers, both of whom broke rules, created new forms and these days academic industries have built up around them.
Virginia Woolf was not permitted to learn Greek and in 1925 she wrote about this in an essay ‘On Not Knowing Greek’. She was a friend of the great classicist Jane Ellen Harrison. At the time boys began learning Latin at around five and Greek not long after. Any girl starting to learn these languages later, say around twelve, was already years behind her male age mates. When you read the text it becomes clear that Virginia Woolf does know Greek, but what she is saying is that modern Europeans cannot know what the Greeks were thinking and feeling – and more.
I do know some Greek, but did not start to learn it until I was into my thirties. Way too late to really have the language inside me. I need a dictionary to find my way slowly through Greek texts.
Hilda Doolittel, known by her initials H.D., knew much more Greek than I ever will and many of her poems arise out of this knowledge, especially the long poem, Helen in Egypt. If you love anything about the Greek tradition, I recommend you read it. And I’ve included Orlando by Virginali Woolf because it is such a romp of a book.
Greek
for Suzanne Bellamy
in homage to Virginia Woolf, 1882-1941, who yearned to read Greek
and HD, 1886-1961, who learned to read Greek
She listened to the birds singing in Greek
but she could not understand them
this girl who would change the shape
of English literature
I want to learn Greek, she said to her tutor
You can’t, he said, for two reasons
alpha: you’re too young
beta: you’re a girl
and so the birds sang on
*
Years later she returned to the song of birds
to their healing sounds
if only she could go some place quiet
be looked after, listen to the birds
understand their speech
unstop her ears
*
And so it was for that other
a poet who did read Greek
known only by her initials
for whom the world of Greece
was like Sophocles’ birdsong
a poet visited and healed
as she lay in her bed with the waves
crashing at the foot of the Cornwell cliffs
*
Was it a lighthouse that brought her back?
Or was it the words she heard?
The hieroglyphs she saw? The sway of the boat
off the coast of Alexandria, at the port of Piraeus?
*
She said, I defied them
I have a friend, a poet
Who can read Greek
In secret I learned from her
It helped her unravel the birdsong
She heard them as they sang
witness to her Victorian violations
Their song the same as on the day
when Persephone was raped
and Zeus couldn’t care less
*
On the days when she knew Greek
on these days she thought of Thoby
who was never too young
to learn Greek
on these days she understood
the bruising metaphors of Aeschylus
the tragedies of the Greek-speaking nightingale
of Antigone, the ecstacies of Agave
the songs of Sappho
*
There was a moment on a boat
when the light played just so
it was like that moment of understanding
the language of the birds
of what all that experience might mean
(Meet Mago Contributor) Susan Hawthorne, Ph.D.
© Susan Hawthorne, 2005
The poem is published in The Butterfly Effect
http://www.spinifexpress.com.au/Bookstore/book/id=35/