Ananke

A Work in Progress 
47

Episode (Trenches in WW1)

We are in a dugout.  Shells are falling overhead.  Richard Aldington is writing his love poem for H.D., Ananke, by candlelight.  We hear it being recited, interspersed by explosions and the whine of falling shells.  We hear and see images of trench warfare superimposed on images of Lesbia, meadows, streams, marshes and scented uplands, blossoms on fruit trees, bees visiting flowers.  Finally, we hear warning cries of “Gas!” and see Aldington putting on a gas mask and going up to the trench.

Ananke

In bitter sorrow and despair

I said unto my love:

‘All the far meadows, the cool marsh

And scented uplands I have searched

For blossom pleasant to the gods;

I have begged just ripened fruits

From all the pitying tree-nymphs,

Have gathered many honey-combs,

Poured wine,

Poured milk,

Poured all my words, in vain-

For yet the implacable gods

Turn their untroubled faces

Austerely from me,

Yet the cold envious wind

Whispers that no man born

Tricks the wide-open eyes of Fate’.

And seeing the pallor of her cheek,

Her fear tormented eyes and tremulous hands,

I turned aside

To check the desperate tears burning my eyes;

Then came to her again, smiling,

And kissed her lips,

Saying no word save this:

‘Do not despair’.

But yet 

I have not seen here since that day.

Richard Aldington

Dick Russell © Richard M Russell

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