THE WINDOWS BY HUBERT CREEKMORE: POEM AND ANALYSIS

Tired of the sad hospital and fetid incense

Arising like the banal whiteness of veils

To the great bored crucifix on the empty wall,

The crafty dying man his back sets straight,

Then drags along and, less to warm his decay

Than see the sunshine on the stones, will press

His white hair and the bones of his gaunt face

On the windows that a fine clear sunbeam burns;

And fevered, greedy for deep azure, the mouth,

As, youthful, it would breathe its wealth away,

A virgin skin of long ago! befouls

With a long, bitter kiss the warm golden panes.

And drunk, he lives, the horror of holy oils

Forgot, and cordials and clocks, the bed prescribed,

The cough; and when evening bleeds along the tiles,

His gaze, gorged on the horizon of light,

Sees golden galleys, beautiful as swans,

On a ruddy, perfumed river, cradling to sleep

The tawny, rich light of their echelons

In vast nonchalance charged with memories!

So, filled with disgust for the man whose soul is callous,

Sprawled in comforts where his hungering

Is fed, stubborn in searching out this ordure

To offer the wife who nurses his offspring,

I flee and cling to all the window frames

Whence one can turn his back on life in scorn,

And, blest, in their glass, by eternal dewdrops laved

And gilded by the Infinite’s chaste morn,

I peer and see myself an angel! I die, I long

—Let the window be art, be mystic state—

To be reborn, wearing my dream as a crown,

In the previous heaven where Beauty flowered great!

But oh! the World Below is lord: its spell

Still nauseates me in this safe retreat,

And the reeking spew of Stupidity compels

Me to hold my nose before the azure sheet.

Is this a way, oh Self who knows gall stings,

To burst the crystal stupidity vilifies,

And take flight, on my two unfeathered wings

—At the risk of falling through eternal skies?

HUBERT CREEKMORE 

Other translation
LES FENÊTRES

Las du triste hôpital, et de l’encens fétide

Qui monte en la blancheur banale des rideaux

Vers le grand crucifix ennuyé du mur vide,

Le moribond sournois y redresse un vieux dos,

Se traîne et va, moins pour chauffer sa pourriture

Que pour voir du soleil sur les pierres, coller

Les poils blancs et les os de la maigre figure

Aux fenêtres qu’un beau rayon clair veut hâler.

Et la bouche, fiévreuse et d’azur bleu vorace,

Telle, jeune, elle alia respirer son trésor,

Une peau virginale et de jadis! encrasse

D’un long baiser amer les tièdes carreaux d’or.

Ivre, il vit, oubliant l’horreur des saintes huiles,

Les tisanes, l’horloge et le lit infligé,

La toux; et quand le soir saigne parmi les tuiles,

Son œil, à l’horizon de lumière gorgé,

Voit des galères d’or, belles comme des cygnes,

Sur un fleuve de pourpre et de parfums dormir

En berçant l’éclair fauve et riche de leurs lignes

Dans un grand nonchaloir chargé de souvenir!

Ainsi, pris du dégoût de l’homme à l’âme dure

Vautré dans le bonheur, où ses seuls appétits

Mangent, et qui s’entête à chercher cette ordure

Pour l’offrir à la femme allaitant ses petits,

Je fuis et je m’accroche à toutes les croisées

D’où l’on tourne l’épaule à la vie, et, béni,

Dans leur verre, lavé d’éternelles rosées,

Que dore le matin chaste de l’Infini

Je me mire et me vois ange! et je meurs, et j’aime

—Que la vitre soit l’art, soit la mysticité—

A renaître, portant mon rêve en diadème,

Au ciel antérieuc où fleurit la Beauté!

Mais, hélas! Ici-bas est maître: sa hantise

Vient m’écœurer parfois jusqu’en cet abri sûr,

Et le vomissement impur de la Bêtise

Me force à me boucher le nez devant l’azur.

Est-il moyen, ô Moi qui connais l’amertume,

D’enfoncer le cristal par le monstre insulté

Et de m’enfuir, avec mes deux ailes sans plume

—Au risque de tomber pendant l’éternité?

Analysis

"The Windows" by Hubert Creekmore is a poem that explores themes of confinement, mortality, and the yearning for transcendence. The speaker describes a scene in a hospital where a dying man seeks solace and respite from the oppressive environment by pressing his face against the windows to catch a glimpse of sunlight and the outside world. Through vivid imagery and evocative language, the poem captures the contrasting emotions of the dying man and the speaker, who shares a sense of disgust with the world below and a desire to escape its limitations.

The poem begins with a portrayal of the hospital as a somber place filled with sad and unpleasant elements such as the scent of incense and the presence of crucifixes. The dying man, depicted as crafty and longing for warmth and sunlight, seeks comfort by pressing his face against the windows. The imagery of the "fine clear sunbeam" burning on the window panes suggests a fleeting and intense moment of connection with the outside world.

The poem continues to describe the dying man's fevered state and his desire for the vibrant beauty of the sky. The mention of a "virgin skin of long ago" implies a longing for youthful vitality and the loss of innocence. The man's immersion in the view outside the window momentarily allows him to escape the reality of his illness and the prescribed remedies of the hospital.

The poem then shifts to the speaker's perspective, expressing a sense of disgust towards a man who remains callous and content in his comfortable existence while offering his wife the ordinariness of his life. The speaker rejects such complacency and seeks solace by gazing out of various window frames, distancing themselves from the mundane aspects of life. The notion of being "laved" and "gilded" by eternal dewdrops suggests a desire for transcendence and an angelic existence.

The speaker longs to be reborn, wearing their dreams like a crown, in a realm where beauty flourishes. However, the speaker acknowledges the dominance of the world below, with its pervasive spell and the reeking spew of stupidity. This recognition leads to a contemplation of the self and the risk of seeking transcendence. The final lines question whether breaking through the limitations of mundane existence and attempting to fly towards eternal skies is worth the potential fall.

Overall, "The Windows" is a contemplative poem that delves into the longing for escape, the search for beauty, and the tension between mortality and transcendence. The vivid imagery and introspective tone invite readers to reflect on the limitations of existence and the human desire for something beyond the confines of everyday life.