Esprit Poem by Tom Billsborough

Esprit

Rating: 3.9


What is this word, esprit?
Your smile reflected in a pool
As minnows dart like small electric lights,
Your voice soft and subtle
As it enters like a butterfly
each membrane of my soul.
A girl of many sounds and faces
Is the word esprit.
I try to catch its meaning
Like these elusive creatures
But it is in their natures
Never to be still.
One could call it joy
But that will not suffice
To clothe its eloquence.
Spirit, in a sense,
But closer to infinity,
A bird of paradise
In all its preening mystery.

Monday, May 9, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: language
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
i WAS PONDERING ANOTHER FRENCH WORD 'PRESOMPTION' WHICH ELIOT TRANSLATES AS PRESUMPTION. aCTUALLY I CAN'T THINK OF A BETTER WORD AND YET THE ENGLISH SOUNDS SLIGHTLY POMPOUS, WHEREAS THE FRENCH IN THE CONTEXT DOESN'T. ESPRIT COMES INTO THE SAME LINE TO GIVE TOM ELIOT A DOUBLE HEADACHE IN WHAT IS A MARVELOUS TRANSLATION OF ST j JEAN PERSE'S GREAT POEM 'ANABASE'. eLIOT HAD A GREAT COMMAND OF FRENCH BUT HE RECOGNIZED THE DIFFICULTIES, EVEN WHEN YOU FULLY UNDERSTAND THE IMAGES. ENGLISH HAS MORE WORDS TO PLAY WITH BUT ON THE OTHER HAND SOME FRENCH WORDS ACQUIRE MORE VARIETY OF MEANING, SO THAT A WORD CAN RECALL A MORE COMPLEX GROUP OF IMAGES.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Edward Kofi Louis 31 October 2016

Mystery! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

0 0 Reply
Tom Billsborough 31 October 2016

Sometimes is mystery is the true attractive force. Thanks, Edward.

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Unwritten Soul 10 May 2016

Oh i noted about the poet's notes here.... To me i still can get this poem in my own interpretation..it was beautiful :) These lines really get me: As it enters like a butterfly each membrane of my soul. .. Spirit, in a sense, But closer to infinity, A bird of paradise In all its preening mystery It just wonderful..and you know, this craft is just beautiful and soulful really good :)

0 1 Reply
Tom Billsborough 31 October 2016

Words can imply true magic when they suggest many meanings. It is good that we have the choice to apply our own interpretations, as you say, my Unwritten Soul.

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READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Tom Billsborough

Tom Billsborough

Preston Lancashire England
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