Since the dawn of written language, poets and revolutionaries have scrawled sarcastic sayings onto walls, parchments, and tablets. These epigrams, modern and ancient, everyday and philosophical, have left an indelible mark upon nearly every generation of rebels and commentators. With their sour wit and subversive nature, such epigrams and short poems are in some sense the truest representations of the life of the poet, the rawest declarations upon the state of society. Many of them, it is true, reflect the bitterness of sexually frustrated men and spend a disproportionate amount of lines on the sensual, but they are still deeply important. Such epigrams are vital to a generation’s sense of self, holding a mirror up to the absurdities of society and showcasing the enduring power of wit and sarcasm.
One of the first great epigrammitists of classical antiquity, Asclepiades of Samos, embodies the spirit of the often erotic and esoteric epigrams that are a mainstay of any generation’s counterculture and societal critique.
In his “Epigram 5.7,” Asclepiades encapsulates the wit, esoterica, and semi-erotica of classical epigrams. Addressing an everyday lamp, Asclepiades curses a love interest who failed to keep a romantic appointment with him three different times, concluding his epigram brilliantly and sourly: “Dear lamp, thrice Heracleia here present swore by you to come, and she has not come. Lamp, if you are a god, take vengeance on the deceitful girl. When she has a friend at home and is sporting with him, go out; and give them no more light.”
Asclepiades’ witty take down should not be dismissed as frivolous. Asclepiades shows tremendous poetic prowess in his ability to use grandiose and divine terms to describe hilariously small and mundane experiences. A mere amateur could not write with such wit and searing humor. A mere philosophical musing could not remain so relevant and relatable in translation across languages and centuries.
As one of the best-known Turkish poets of the twentieth century, Orhan Veli writes primarily short poems and epigrams stylistically and topically distinct from Asclepiades. In his concise and witty verse, Velli touches upon topics great and small, existential and refreshingly ordinary. His sparse musings represent a groundbreaking effort to force poetry into a form more representative of modern life.
One particular poem of his stands out to me. Entitled “On Mustard,” this epigrammatic poem is a wonderfully witty and sarcastic description of the little “condiments,” if you will, that define our lives far greater than we realize. Characteristically, Velli centers around his own deeply personal musings while detailing snippets of conversations with characters we do not have the privilege of knowing. Velli concludes in the final stanza with a searing and sarcastic prayer:
I was so stupid.
For years
I didn’t understand
The place
Of mustard
In society:
“One can’t
Live
Without mustard.”
Abidin was saying
The same thing
The other day
To those
Who understood
Deeper things.
I know it isn’t necessary,
But may God deprive no one
Of mustard.
Veli’s poem is ingenious. The random idiosyncrasies of such a short poem produce a unique pattern each time it is read and reread. He manages to comment on the poetry of ordinary life while still writing with a subversive and frustrated voice. This is wit that truly survives translation.
Of course, these two poems are rather difficult to compare stylistically. While both of them are concise, witty, and sparse, both of them have been translated from different languages and different times. However, the rhetoric of each poet reflects very poignantly their unique context. Asclepiades writes of the ordinary and the vulgar with divine, mythological language, strengthening the humor and irony of his work. Such rhetorical choices also reflect the ever-present role of such religious rites and fables in classical Greece. Veli writes of the extremely ordinary with language that is somehow both conversational and deeply philosophical. With its metanarrative, epistemological structure, and random detail, Veli manages to imbue his poem with similar irony and wit.
These two poems highlight the power of sarcasm to ingeniously reveal the absurdities of society, translating across language and time. On a shallower level they show the constant recurrence of sexually frustrated and subversive literary minds. Not only do the words themselves make these poems powerful, but the personalities they reflect are uniquely endearing.
This was hilarious. I’d like to see you write a poem about trees. That’s what this essay reminds me of. Even the Muir’s, Emerson’s, Thoreau, and Leopold, I think, don’t write about specifically the tree. I read that, in an article, trees didn’t really gain respect until the 80s because before that they’d just be cut down, there was no value in and of the tree itself. I think modern forestry really didn’t get started until the 50s with Aldo Leopold.
To me, a tree, is God’s orbital junction on earth. Everyone is perfect, as a harbinger of what’s to come: humans, so they could destroy them and fulfill their righteous folly, indignified by their worthless orbital injunctions.