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Can someone help me explain "September 1, 1939"?

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Cosmic_Latte Donating Member (505 posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Oct-02-03 02:26 AM
Original message
Can someone help me explain "September 1, 1939"?
I'm doing this school project and I chose this poem... only thing is I can't explain this completely--I might miss out on many things because some lines here are quite deep for me. All I can say is that this one is terribly relevant to 9/11. Poetry lovers, help!!! Below is the poem.

-------
September 1, 1939
W. H. Auden


I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
"I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,"
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

----
Thanks everyone!
Steph
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Susang Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Oct-02-03 02:30 AM
Response to Original message
1. Do you know what happened that day?
The Germans stormed into Poland, basically starting World War II. Very depressing.

BTW, I love Auden. Very nice choice of poems.
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alexwcovington Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Oct-02-03 02:51 AM
Response to Reply #1
3. duh
Very patronizing.
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Spider Jerusalem Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Oct-02-03 02:50 AM
Response to Original message
2. Okay...here you go, with annotation.
Edited on Thu Oct-02-03 02:59 AM by Spider Jerusalem
I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
(Clever hopes meaning the hope that diplomacy would stave off international conflict: that Europe and the world wouldn't have to repeat the experience of the Great War; that peace and justice could be won easily. Dishonest meaning that all that was attempted along these lines came to failure; that Hitler lied to the world and got away with it.)
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.
(Hitler's invasion of Poland, 1 September 1939, as mentioned by another poster.)
Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
("the whole offence...that has driven a culture mad" is anti-Semitism. Martin Luther wrote a diatribe called "The Offences of the Jews".)
Find what occurred at Linz,
(Hitler was born in Linz, Austria.)
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
(psychopathic god=Hitler, who identified himself with Siegfried, from Germanic mythology. Imago: From Freudian psychoanalytic theory, meaning "what the hell happened in his childhood to make him who he is?")
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.
(Imperialism's face: he's referring to the white European races, who colonised the world and called imperialism good for it was "enlightening" the "benighted savages" of the less-white parts of the world.)
Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
"I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,"
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.




Hope that helps a little.
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