[i]...In the
physical realm, say reality, literature has had but little effect throughout
history. By a poem such as "Easter, 1916", William B. Yeats could not
bring back to life the dead rioters, not even could he heal the injured. At
this level, literature becomes a null, useless tool. It had never, and will
never have any effect at this level. "Mad Ireland hurt you into
poetry./Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still." (Auden-34-35).
Auden could not be more accurate, although powerfully written as it might be;
poetry is hopeless at transforming the physical realm.[ii]
[i]
Fragmento de un ensayo encontrado en un bolsillo de una campera que hacia como
tres años que no usaba, el invierno trae sus recuerdos con olor a viejo.
[ii] No
voy a traducir todo el fragmento, solo les dejo la mejor frase “la desvariante
Irlanda te hirió a la poesía./ Ahora Irlanda tiene su locura y su clima como
siempre". No lean todo el fragmento, les resalto que esa es la única línea
que vale la pena.
