ext_37027 ([identity profile] asakiyume.livejournal.com) wrote in [personal profile] sovay 2015-08-05 11:29 am (UTC)

I really love the poem, and just as much, I love what you say here, which, though it's prose, is so powerful and so beautifully expressed that it has the effect of poetry.

Their lure is the storyteller's: they know the truth of things ... The deceased is never unknown to them: they know all our life stories. They know what really happened. They tell the dead true.

And this: [They] will tell you the story of the world until you die of it. --They're like a heroin-strong (and heroin-deadly) dose of Songs of Experience, then. By train of thought, I'm reminded of Dallben aging in a night after reading The Book of Three.

You say here that you imagine the bronze siren as offering you a choice between the panpipes (which to me look a bit like a small book or even a piece of bread, though I know ancients didn't have bread in this shape) and the pomegranate, but in your poem I get the sense that the listener is being pressed to take both. As a choice, what do you see it as being between? I understand the pomegranate as death and (from your poem) relief, but what do the pipes offer?

ETA: Never mind: I see it now, rereading: story, through song. (I am slow sometimes)

Post a comment in response:

Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.