ON POETRY
I KEEP my eyes unswervingly
upon poetry (do you ask me what is poetry?)—if I succeed in poetry it is my
only secret. It is common enough to say that, but it is least understood
even among the so-called poets. To fix my sharp attention is not the only
way of perceiving the object (I never think, however, of poetry as my whole
object in life); but my attention is most keen when my power of inattention
fully sways. You have to learn that most difficult art how to be
inattentive; it is perfectly arbitrary to say that one gets his poetry at the
unexpected moment. All of my practice is spent in that very inattention.
When my inattention is all well developed I can keep my unswerving eye perfectly
upon poetry. I say again that when I forget poetry it is the time when I
am wholly with poetry. I always fail to write poetry when I think I will
write it.
And when I perfectly perceive the real poetry, I never
think I am before its presence; because the poetry and I are all one. At
that moment, the sensations and impressions (I feel [147] them when the high
water mark is not yet attained) at once subside; and only the poetry that is the
real 'I' remains. Indeed, to gain the true poetry is the question of one's
nerve; and I say also that you cannot have the true poetry with that nerve
itself; I mean that you can have the poetry when your nerve becomes non-nerve.
And you must let the poetry write itself; I mean that you must get your own true
self. That is my secret if I have any.
Poetry is so interesting at least in my case, because it
makes me find my own self; it is so important, because it teaches me the real
proportion between me and Nature. It is so educative and edifying, because
it makes me philospohical; to be philosophical is the very way to build one's
character, because it makes one gain silence, for silence is the real foundation
of character. [148]
Next chapter: Again on Poetry
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