Review
07.08.2013

NOT ONLY WITH ARTISTIC CREATION BUT WITH DESTINY

Milan Rúfus, And That's the Truth, Bolchazy-Carducci, Wauconda, Illinois, USA, 2006

The translators’ preface notes recurring images of bread and water, with sacramental overtones, in Rúfus’s poetry, but perhaps more striking, in part because of Koloman Sokol’s drawings of sculptors and their work, is the emphasis on stone. In “Rodin’s Lovers,” love is the chisel, and in “What is a poem” the answer is that “the poem is greater than the word” because it is “Not a stone. A statue. Lot’s wife. / that’s a poem.” In “Carpenters,” the task is “to hack through into beauty.”

            Throughout the collection, selected from twenty volumes of the oeuvre, Rúfus emphasizes the struggle not only with artistic creation but with destiny. Like some English modernists, he feels that, in literature as in life, “all roads lead to silence.” A path that once seemed to lead to God now “leads to the unknown.”

            Suffering, as inexplicable as that in the poetry of Thomas Hardy (whose short lines and simple language offer some basis of comparison for the Anglophone reader), is somehow, unlike Hardy’s, redemptive. In “Lines,” where the extended figure is employed most successfully, markings on the face become grooves in a record for the wearer to “listen to / his master’s voice....” “Thus” echoes Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “generations have trod / have trod / have trod,” and although Rúfus cannot praise the glory of God, he concludes that hunger, neither too great nor too little, offers a space in which humanity can eat and love. Less effective is “Visitors,” in which hunger, death, poverty, and worry find consolation in the fact that “The earth came to us and brought flowers.”

            The next line, “And that’s the truth,” serves better as title to this volume than as conclusion to the poem. Perhaps too much aware of his position as “a kind of national conscience for Slovakia and its people” – Milan Richter’s words –Rúfus too often flattens his endings with didactic generalizations.

            English-speaking readers may be missing something in translation, for many of the poems seem not to generate effective internal rhythms. Perhaps his poems in English are best read singly, as meditations rather than lyrics. Seen this way, they bring a valuable new note into poetry in English.