’Tis the first day of Spring! The catkins are a-bloom, The bluebirds are a-wing, ’Tis the first day of Spring!…
Carl Sadakichi Hartmann, born on November 8, 1867, on Dejima Island in Nagasaki, Japan, was a poet, fiction writer, playwright, art critic, and art historian. Hartmann was born to a Prussian merchant father and a Japanese mother who died a few months after he was born. Shortly after his mother’s death, Hartmann was sent to Hamburg, Germany, to live with a wealthy uncle. He left the German Imperial Naval Academy, which he had been forced to attend, and moved to Paris. Hartmann’s father next sent him to Philadelphia in 1882. Two years later, Hartmann visited Walt Whitman at the latter’s home in Camden, New Jersey. Their ensuing friendship was chronicled in Conversations with Walt Whitman (E.P. Coby & Co., 1895). In 1887, Hartmann founded a Whitman Society in Boston. Hartmann became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 1894. There is a possibility that he bypassed naturalization laws by passing as white (he is listed as “white” on his 1891 marriage certificate to his first wife, Elizabeth Blanche Walsh). Hartmann was the author of four collections of poetry: Naked Ghosts: Four Poems (Fantasia, 1925); Tanka and Haikai: 14 Japanese Rhythms (Author’s Edition, 1916); My Rubaiyat (Mangan, 1913); and Drifting Flowers of the Sea and Other Poems (1904), which was released only as a limited-copy manuscript. His other works include the two-volume A History of American Art (L.C. Page, 1901; revised ed., 1932), a precursor to the discipline of the historiography of American art, despite Hartmann’s relative obscurity as a scholar within the field; The Whistler Book (L.C. Page, 1910); Landscape and Figure Composition (Baker and Taylor, Co., 1910; reissued in 1973) and Composition in Portraiture (E.L. Wilson, 1909; reissued in 1973), both published under the pseudonym Sidney Allan; Japanese Art (L.C. Page, 1903); and Shakespeare in Art (L.C. Page, 1901; reissued in 1973). He also wrote a nearly three-hundred page autobiography that was never published. In 2017, scholar Floyd Cheung released Sadakichi Hartmann: Collected Poems, 1886–1944 (Little Island Press, 2017), which, for the first time, collects all of Hartmann’s poetry. Hartmann was among the first to introduce Western readers and fellow poets to Japanese forms, such as the haiku and tanka. He both influenced and befriended the French Symbolists, including Stéphane Mallarmé, as well as the Modernists, particularly Gertrude Stein and Ezra Pound, who expressed their admiration for Hartmann’s work. Before becoming a published poet and art critic, Hartmann wrote for various newspapers in Boston and New York in the 1880s and 1890s. During the Second World War, Hartmann and his family were harassed by both the FBI and the Riverside, California county sheriff’s department. Neighbors in the Hartmann family’s town of Beaumont, California, stigmatized the family and circulated rumors that Hartmann was a spy. Hartmann died in St. Petersburg, Florida, on November 22, 1944.
Sadakichi Hartmann şiirleri
to Maurice Maeterlinck Weird phantoms rise in the dawn-winds blow, In the land of shadows the dawn-flowers grow; The night-worn moon yields her weary glow…
Across the dunes, in the waning light, The rising moon pours her amber rays,…
A maiden flower stands lonesome on a vast and desolate plain, in trembling fear that her longings for life and love prove vain. But the passing breeze takes pity, it embraces…
Far away from the murmuring town, In the region of sand and sea, Love has surprised us on the down– Love has surprised you and me–…
The waves have lost their silvery note, White birds of dreams o’er the dim plain start, Through the mist is gliding a phantom bark— What made love open its eyes and part!…
Upon the silent sea-swept land The dreams of night fall soft and gray, The waves fade on the jeweled sand Like some lost hope of yesterday.…
Oh, frail and fragrant visions, Sweet nomads of the air, That rise like the mist on the meadows And cling to my darksome hair.…
Sestine Enchainée When autumn cloudlets fleck the sky Straying southward like birds o’er the sea, When the flickering sunlight on the dunes Is pale, as seagrasses kissed by the spr…
I. Winter? Spring? Who knows? White buds from the plumtrees wing And mingle with the snows.…
I The colors of the rainbow are fading in the silent and distant West, and the heartache of twilight trembles within my aching breast.…
Why I no longer love thee? Ask why summer has fled, Thy autumn is dead with its garnet glow, Why the sea is gray, and the sky is gray;…