a hidden power in all beings

the poetry of Achille Mizzi

Joseph Buttigieg

a tongue of fire flares into flame over my head. I set out conversing in many tongues with the blind, the dumb and the deaf. Tongue of Fire

u fuq rasi lsien tan-nar jikber u jee. U noro nitaddet bafna ilsna mal-agma, mal-mutu, mat-trux. Ilsien tan-Nar

These concluding lines from Tongue of Fire, evoking a kind of second Pentecost with tongues of fire licking the air and language barriers overcome, give us a foretaste of what we are to expect in this essential collection of poetry by Achille Mizzi: the transformation of experience into a wondrous event. Since taking the local literary scene by storm in 1967 with his first collection entitled: L-Gar talEnimmi [The Cave of the Enigmas], Achille Mizzi has been one of the most consistent voices, both in quantity and in quality. The troop of young poets that set out in the early days of the Moviment Qawmien Letterarju dwindled over the years and only the elite voices that didnt fall by the wayside have survived the test of time. These voices, that hit solitary roads and have, since then, established themselves in the literary scene, seem to have little in common apart from the fact that they all belong more or less to the last decades of the twentieth century and the dawn of the twenty-first. They may differ stylistically and thematically. But what they all seem to share is an acute awareness of the poets ambivalent role in postmodern society. The Call Leafing through the pages of this new anthology, one cannot fail to note how Mizzi regards his poetic role from an almost Biblical perspective. The poet takes on the prophetic mantle to do the bidding of an inner command he cannot turn down. In Amanuensis he is called to undertake the task of solving the eternal enigmas, a task which seems beyond the plain scribe he claims to be. But he has been blessed with a vision not opaque with blurring. Chisels of embers like a flaming fuse split open a path through thorn bushes leading me on to the ark of Sion. And there I, an earthworm, am garbed with flaming tongues. Tongue of Fire L-iskriepel tal-mamar joforqu quddiemi daqs mia mixgula, jonqxuli bal triq qalb l-golliq li twassalni gall-arka ta Sijon. U hemmhekk jien dudu tal-art nitlibbes bil-fjammi. Ilsien tan-Nar

These lines taken from Tongue of Fire, are reminiscent of Exodus chapter 3 where Moses, a plain shepherd, is forged into a leader. While this could suggest that the role undertaken by the poet is beyond him, in the manner of a true prophet, he is made worthy of the task. Like the author of the Book of Revelation, he is inspired to take his pen; he is bid to write: On Patmos I climbed inspired on the summit of songs where gales clasped me like autumn leaves and whirled me around. And a resounding voice bid me write Song of Life Fuq Patmos tlajt imnebba fuq il-qaet tal-gana fejn l-irwiefen bal weraq tal-arifa bid-dawran afnuni. U leen jirbombja biex nikteb amarli Ilsien tan-Nar

The poet cannot help but write, like the poets of old who, taken over by the gods, had no other choice but to do their bidding. Plato writes of this divine possession in his Phaedrus: This [the inspiration of the Muses] seizes a tender, virgin soul and stimulates it to rapt passionate expression, especially in lyric poetry, glorifying the countless mighty deeds of ancient times for the instruction of posterity. (245a) This is Mizzis burning pregnancy that cannot wait: A burning pregnancy that hatches the holiness of life in your hands. Gymnasion Tqala taraq din li tfaqqaslek il-qodos tal-ajja fidejk. Gymnasion

Indeed, the call of the poet, in Mizzis view, is to celebrate life. This is one of the most striking themes in his poetry, which he has never ceased to explore from Il-Gar tal-Enimmi (1967) [The Cave of the Enigmas] to Eklissi Perpetwi (2007) [Perpetual Eclipses], his latest anthology, published 40 years later. Like no other, he lays out before the reader the fabric of life and wanders within its mysteries like the nomad who knows his way about in the desert without ever claiming to have ever tamed the large expanse of sand and stone. The Celebration of Life Birth and impending death, rebirth, femininity, motherhood and passion, are all visited by Mizzi time and again. Life, in his poetry, has a sacredness of its own, and does not require meaning. It is beyond meaning, beyond the small confines of the human mind. It just is. The poet finds his place in this great mystery, but he also feels small and insignificant, a fistful of dust, especially when he considers the spatio-temporal infinity of the universe: Somewhere in the wide expanse suspended in time without measure there arose hubbub of a fistful of dust, remote din of a thousand mighty realms buried under the sand, bloodstained shriek of silent slave, childbirth pain, groan of toil and vigil, death cry uttered by mouth agape. Xi mkien fil-bera wiesa fi!-!mien imdendel li ma fihx qisien tgedwed il-amba ta ponn trab imsejken, il-sejjes imbegdin telf saltna kbira mirduma tat ir-ramel, il-bikja mdemma tal-imjassar sieket, il-wega tat-twellid, il-karba ta min jagnet u min jishar, l-gajta tal-mewt li jislet il-fomm imberra fl-aar nifs tal-ajja.

The light of a new star sown in the heavens a million years ago reaches us now from above Light

Mill-goli wasal issa id-dawl ta kewkba dida li n!erget fis-smewwiet miljun sena ilu. Dawl

Maybe it is from this awareness of human insignificance that Mizzis liturgical or ritualistic sensibility is born. Before the sacredness of life he feels he cannot but adopt this attitude. Instances of this abound: And I am lured by the altar to sacrifice an animal when a skink drunk drowsy the spiral-folded tongue undoes, in order to relish in the dark, the meaning of the eternal. aar Qim I anoint you with almond-oil kisses, and asperse you with tears pressed out of the sesame grains. You are the sacrificial animal: the altar is my body Vespers U nitajjar nitla l-altar biex nidbo il-bhima meta xamet l-art sakran bin-ngas ilsienu mkebbeb spirall ioll biex itiegem fid-dlam it-tifsira tal-etern. aar Qim Bi!-!ejt il-lew! ta bewsti nidilkek u nbabek bi dmug l-gasir tal-unlien. Inti l-bhima tad-deba: ismi l-altar Ilsien tan-Nar

On the other hand, human insignificance doesnt detain the poet from celebrating this very essence, which is akin to both the gods and the beasts. In poems like Marche Slave and Il-Kantiku tad-Demm [The Canticle of Blood], freedom and passion come to the fore as the marks of human life, as if caught half-way between God and beast: Hoarse groan of crowds from gods turned to beasts and simultaneaously from crazed beasts raised to godhead Marche Slave In blood lies the shudder of the Lords kiss under the apple tree. There is no logic in blood. The Canticle of Blood Sub Specie Aeternitatis It has been noted that along the years, Mizzi seems to have become more conscious of the transitoriness of life. In Tixjin [Nothingness] the meaning of life is questioned as individual existence dissolves into nothingness. This sense pervades Eklissi Perpetwi, the late crop so to speak of the poets season. Life is seen sub specie aeternitatis. Hence the poets concern with memories, Din hi l-anqa ta nies li minn alla jaqgu bhejjem u minn bhejjem fdagdiga jitilgu allat fl-istess wat. Marche Slave Fid-demm id-dehxa tal-bewsa tal-Mulej tat is-sira tat-tuffie. Ma fihx loika d-demm. Il-Kantiku tad-Demm

immortality and eternity. In Statwa fKatidral [On a Sepulchral Statue], he yearns not just for the virtue to bring to life an alabaster statue, but also to bring it to an immortal life that could defy the bite of an asp. While Cleopatra in Shakespeares tragedy tells the asp: With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate | Of life at once untie (Antony and Cleopatra, V.2.303-4), Mizzi dreams of life immune to the bite of the asp of death. In Immortalit [Immortality], the prayer is the same: In my innermost soul, batter me, O Lord. Furrow me in my keel to drive in the graft from the tree of Eden with the taste of immortality. Immortality ol-intimu idrobni, Mulej, ol-prim xoqqni biex tinfilsaha t-tilqima mis-sira tal-Geden li min lilha jduq ma jmut qatt. Immortalit

Even Tabor, inspired from the transfiguration episode in the Synoptic Gospels, betrays the same longing where Joshuas powerful miracle of making time stand still is mentioned. In this light, memories become even more painful: Like molten lead blood descends lazily from the wounds gashed open by remembered thorns. Memories Ba-omb malul ga!!ien jin!el id-demm minn ol-pjagi midruba bix-xewk tal-memorji. Tifkiriet

However the poets wields a weapon that defies the passage of time. Through his art, he hopes to outlive his years and defy not just time, but eternity itself. In Il-Foari [The Potter], he kindles flames in the kiln | to fire bowls and pitchers [] so that when resurrected [] they clink like crystal | like Cheopss pottery | in the pyramid | that defies eternity. Malleable as clay The poem just quoted, written in the first person, might also be interpreted as one of the various expressions of self-definition found in this collection. The potter, having mastered his trade to perfection, caresses the dense matter with deft fingers making the clay unfold tulip-like. Mizzi could hardly have found a more suitable metaphor for his creative process. Language in his hands is as malleable as clay, taking on new forms verging on the classical, that have no precedents in the relatively short Maltese literary tradition. One cannot really draw upon a local classical vein. The nearest examples would be the works of Victor Xuereb SJ, the eminent translator of Homer and Virgil into Maltese, but they still feel distant to the average Maltese reader. This does not happen with Mizzis works. A hallmark of his style is the fine balance between Semitic and Romance words, between words that have almost become archaic and others that unmistakeably belong to the technological age. In Gymnasion, the poet writes:

Words are a treasure trove for me. On the goldsmiths bench of my fantasy I assay them. With the hallmark of my craft I stamp on them the high grade in carats. Gymnasion

Senduq ojjelli l-kliem galija. Fil-monti nassajah bil-fantasija. Bil-boll ta senegti nimmarkalu l-irfinar tal-karati. Gymnasion

However his prodigious command of language goes beyond the lexical choice. The meticulous arrangement of rhythmical patterns, and the expert use alliteration, onomatopoeia, consonant clusters, internal rhyme, and anaphora, take the sound dimension of his poetry to another level. One of the markers of his style is the frequent habit of fronting the object, the relative clause or adjunct, shifting the rhythmical stress and the emphasis in a way that makes the line start on a powerful note: Fkarovana suqni (Karovana) [Caravan]; Xaqquf nikwi fil-mamar (Il-Foari) [The Potter]; l-ispirtu tal-art nixxuga (La Noche Oscura); Ir-regba tad-drieg garqan din (Marche Slave). Translating the untranslatable? Capturing the ineffable? Robert Frost said that poetry is what is lost in translation. According to this notion, poetry is untranslatable because there is something about it which cannot be pinned down, no matter how faithful the translator is to the original. It is, maybe, what Ezra Pound calls logopoeia, or the dance of the intellect among words. This aspect depends on melopoeia, or the music of the poem, and phanopoeia, or the imagistic quality. According to Valentina Stog, Aesthetic values or poetic truth in a poem are conveyed in word order and sounds, as well as in cognitive sense (logic). And these aesthetic values have no independent meaning, but they are correlative with the various types of meaning in the text. Hence, if the translator destroys the word choice, word order, and the sounds, he impairs and distorts the beauty of the original poem. [] So, the problem in translating a poem is how to retain the aesthetic value of the TL text. (Intertext, Terminologie !ie Traductologie, p190) Translating Mizzis poems poses a tough challenge to anyone who undertakes the task, but if there is anyone up to it, it must be Peter Serracino Inglott. Not only do the English translations read beautifully, but they also lead the reader through a poetic experience not far removed from the original. While no translation can replicate the original, a faithful rendition does produce an experience which, although singular in its own right, makes the foreign reader feel close to what the poet intended for the native reader. Conclusion Thanks to Peter Serracino Inglott, Achille Mizzis poetry has been finally made available to foreign readers with this essential collection. It is only fitting that one of Maltas finest poetic voices can be appreciated, not just by a limited readership but by a wider audience. Contrary to the cherub guarding the way to the tree of life in Genesis after the fall, Mizzi transforms himself into an archangel garbed in flaming tongues (Ilsien tan-Nar) [Tongue of Fire] to lead his readers to the very edge of the gaping abyss where time and eternity dissolve. We, who are so often blind, dumb and deaf to the wonders of life, rediscover meaning where it seems to be lacking and open up to the mysterious side of our existence, beyond the daily concerns which often consume most of our energy. Our barren life, like the Arizona desert, can indeed bloom:

By night a dream of rest and poetry. Cacti blooming in a red swoon. White branches with their arms wide open becoming harpstrings for the candied breeze. Like a guitar groan kindled by moonlight out of me a song is drawn. Arizona

Billejl olma ta ser u poe!ija. Il-ward tal-kaktus jitla fgaxwa amra. Iz-zkuk bajdana bdirgajhom imberrin jinbidlu farpi tal-fewa elwa. Bal karba ta kitarra imkebbsa bdawl il-qamar minni ganja tinsilet Arizona