The Gloaming Poem by Denis Mair
The Gloaming
For a long time I've wanted to go into the gloaming
Let me go with it, right to the threshold of seeing.
I've been wondering why it has a tinge of blueness,
Is it a balm against the day's blood-soaked passions?
I've been wondering why it's always used with 'the':
Can we meet there in thought, wherever we started from?
I've been wondering why this word derives from a verb:
Is there anything that GLOAMS, except for the gloaming?
It trails off... you can't quite pinpoint its ending;
I want to investigate this word without a dictionary.
Its atmosphere embeds certain moments in memory;
You can imagine your future self reliving them.
Its atmosphere opens out into past and future...
You can take a break from being a child of your era.
A special scent from roadside plants reaches you-
Their sigh of relief after processing so much sunlight.
If I can walk far enough into the gloaming,
The land's most secret thoughts will be my thoughts.
..........
Thanks to Mr. Wang Hao for translating this poem into Chinese:
'暮色'
我一直想要走进那暮色
让我跟随它，直到明与暗的门槛边。
我总想知道为什么它始终透着微蓝？
莫非它是一抹清凉可以祛除白日血色的烦恼？
我总想知道为什么'gloaming'前面始终要加个定冠词 'the'，
难道无论从哪里出发，我们终究可以在这种意念中相会?
我总想知道英文中意味着'向晦'的这个暮色——the gloaming
为什么衍生于一个动词，难道说这天色正在一步一步走向晦暗？
它渐至隐没，但你却不知道它止于何处。
我想把字典放在一边，将这个词拿来细细端详
它的氛围把某些刹那嵌入记忆
你可以想见未来的自己将这些时刻细细品味。
它的氛围总是向过去与未来敞开……
你可以暂时卸下作为时代儿女的重担。
路边的花草有一丝不同寻常的芬芳沁入你的鼻息,
这是它们辛勤吞咽太多日光后松出的一口气.
如果我能深深地走进那暮色，
我的脑海中将荡起大地最隐秘的思绪。
王浩 译
very philosophical poetry lovely Chinese now would you like to read my poem MOMS SMILES KINDLY DO
o GREAT poet CHIINESE POETRY IS OUT COMING FROM OUR HOT OVEN would you care to read my MOMS SMILES PLEASE.
How much do they tell us about us, their creators/users? Or the actual thing/phenomenon they're supposed to represent? Or the borders where meanings merge, where maybe we blend into them, where maybe there's a harmonising effect at work, or where, more simply, minds may meet, however oddly. Glad I met this work of yours, Denis. Was a pleasure to read, and rattled the grey matter. Thank you.
But " gloaming" ? I think that deserves a bigger tent; is in fact (?) a big tent. But then, the gloamin' isn't a small thing! It steers our imagination towards the sizable dimensions of the thing itself, and because it's a little opaque or maybe even a lot, it possibly has the power to evoke mystery perhaps, if not possibilities. How much power do words have over us?
Words, meanings, emotions and the portals that lead from each of those into the other, or all, in some cases. Is there something infinite contained in the word " infinite" ? Sometimes I think of words as tents. " Break" would normally have/be a small tent imv as it doesn't seem to me to enclose (in itself) any great mysteries, though we ourselves can tie a web of allusions - with branches no doubt - to it.
I love that time of day, the light is very special. You might like to take a look at my poem “Beauty in the Bronx”.
Lovely poem and interesting. Yes, why is it called “the gloaming” when it’s not a place, but a time of day? I think I’ve asked myself the same question. ‘Roaming in the gloaming, on the bonny banks of Clyde...’ You’ve made it into a mysterious, enticing place. I read that ‘gloaming’ comes from the verb ‘to glow.’
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 4:14:52 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A highly philosopical write that ruminates into the meaning of the word 'the gloaming', its special significance of associating always with the word 'the'- - -'t' trails off you can not pinpoint its ending moment- - Like sun light, life's gloaming moment comes- -it goes out of sight, but again reappears in a new sun.