Is there a Veeky Forums chart for poetry?

vimeo.com/64947780

To add to some already mentioned...

Spenser
Thomas Gray
Edward Young
Byron (I prefer Keats, but Byron seems pretty underrated at times)

Wilmot might not be GOAT, but he has some interesting stuff...

We have a pretty witty king,
And whose word no man relies on,
He never said a foolish thing,
And never did a wise one

That's terrific. Thanks

So far, only English .
A chart would need to start with the homeric epics, other Greek poets such as Sapho - any other ? -, then the Romans: Virgil and Ovid. Non-Western poets like Li Tai Po and Rumi should fit in also. In the middle ages, we have anyone other than Dante?

Reading poetry in translation is another thing entirely. Unless it's an english interpretation like Pope's Iliad, Fitzgerald's Rubaiyat or Dryden's Aeneid

>So far, only English .
There are non-English speakers here obv., but there is the issue of whether poetry is worth reading outside the original language. Maybe for plot/characters, but the language itself will be the creation of the translator. No matter how "accurate". Also, this: >other Greek poets such as Sapho - any other ?
Pindar definitely

>Romans: Virgil and Ovid
Horace, Catullus

>Non-Western poets like Li Tai Po and Rumi should fit in also.
Don't forget the pajeets

>In the middle ages, we have anyone other than Dante?
Petrarch, Chaucer, Villon, Eschenbach, Nibelungenlied, Beowulf, Eddas ... to name a few

I agree that a lot is lost in the translation of a poem, but I'm doing some progress with French and I intent to learn other languages in the future. The translator of a poem creates another poem.
Thanks for the other suggestions, I assume that the epics' value lie mostly in its narrative, we can't know for certain how ancient Greek-it was also accompanied with music- or Latin was spoken, and Beowulf was written in an English that is hardly comprehensible today.

he's the Jackson Pollock of literature. Cantos is incoherent and incomprehensible. Not to mention the fact that he was a fascist.

His politics have zero influence on his work

>Not to mention the fact that he was a fascist.
And the bad news? Not a fan of Pound's poetry, BTW.

>the fact that he was a fascist.
So was Heidegger, it doesn't matter. Some of the greatest writers ever were "monarchist". This actually detracts from the rest of your opinion

I'll bash the fash if need be and I don't care about his political views. Shit, I'd handle Hitler's work from his politics and actions if he was a prolific writer.

I think it is extremely worth to read translated poetry, while it will never compare with the origina it does have its merits, expecially if accompanied with good support material

when you translate poetry you lose either the structure or the message, but at least you will get something out of it, do you rpefer to be oblivious about the great works of Baudelaire, Pessoa, Goethe, Lorca, Pushkin, Petrarca etc than to read a translation? Also if you plan to learn a language why not read a translation first to see if that author will ressonate at least in a primeval level.

Don't fall for the ">translated" meme

I don't see Lucretius mentioned here. For some reason he isn't very well known in this board.

Lautreamont, Rimbaud, Verlaine. Mallarmé.
Lorca, Calderon de la Barca, Parra, Huidobro.

Add in Dickinson, Tennyson, Browning, Hopkins, Housman, Yeats, and maybe Melville to fill that gap. If you want to cut it down to the essentials, just read Tennyson and Hopkins

Gertrude Stein invented modern poetry

She also invented Picasso and pretty much everything great about 20th century is the result of her creative brilliance.

But Picasso was shit. I don't mean he lacked a certain technical skill, but his work was sickly and degenerate. Hardly capable of being called true art, except by know-nothing moneybags and the "art scene". An accomplished con artist, though.

> Image search
> 1/1
As expected. No fucking charts for poetry, Veeky Forums?

That's what I do actually. For the languages I have no intention to learn, like Russian, Greek or Persian, I have to stay with the translations. However, if I can learn other languages, I'd rather read what the author wrote the way he did.
The poems do change in the translatios, try to pick a poem in English then read its translations to another language.

>no crane

>literature
>can't read unless it's in an image

[lemon quay face]

fuck off "crane" poster

>muh deliberate archaisms and poetry about chaplin
hart crane is a poet for virgins

Yeats for sure

The bell-rope that gathers God at dawn
Dispatches me as though I dropped down the knell
Of a spent day - to wander the cathedral lawn
From pit to crucifix, feet chill on steps from hell.

Have you not heard, have you not seen that corps
Of shadows in the tower, whose shoulders sway
Antiphonal carillons launched before
The stars are caught and hived in the sun's ray?

The bells, I say, the bells break down their tower;
And swing I know not where. Their tongues engrave
Membrane through marrow, my long-scattered score
Of broken intervals… And I, their sexton slave!

Oval encyclicals in canyons heaping
The impasse high with choir. Banked voices slain!
Pagodas, campaniles with reveilles out leaping-
O terraced echoes prostrate on the plain!…

And so it was I entered the broken world
To trace the visionary company of love, its voice
An instant in the wind (I know not whither hurled)
But not for long to hold each desperate choice.

My word I poured. But was it cognate, scored
Of that tribunal monarch of the air
Whose thigh embronzes earth, strikes crystal Word
In wounds pledged once to hope - cleft to despair?

The steep encroachments of my blood left me
No answer (could blood hold such a lofty tower
As flings the question true?) -or is it she
Whose sweet mortality stirs latent power?-

And through whose pulse I hear, counting the strokes
My veins recall and add, revived and sure
The angelus of wars my chest evokes:
What I hold healed, original now, and pure…

And builds, within, a tower that is not stone
(Not stone can jacket heaven) - but slip
Of pebbles, - visible wings of silence sown
In azure circles, widening as they dip

The matrix of the heart, lift down the eye
That shrines the quiet lake and swells a tower…
The commodious, tall decorum of that sky
Unseals her earth, and lifts love in its shower.