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Of all the important relationships that Australia has with other countries, none has been more greatly transformed over the last 10 years than our relationship with China.

quote by John Howard
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Living In China

They got the red book, they got the new look
All the little people that are living in china
They got the answers to all the questions
All the little people that are living in china
The solution is revolution
For all of the little people that are living in china
They got ping pong egg foo yung
For all the little people that are living in china
What would chairman mao say, if he knew what theyre doing to his wife today
What did china do? she ordered out for submarines instead of chinese food
China fields of rice, modern man no longer evil hes a paradise
What did the chairman want?
A great big wall they could all watch orientals on
They got the red book, they got the new look
The little people that are living in china
They got the answers to all the questions
The little people that are living in china
The solution is revolution
For all the little people that are living in china
They got ping pong egg foo yung
All the little people that are living in china
What would chairman mao say
If he knew what his people think of him today
Revolution is out of hand
The gang of four, trying to make it as a western band
China, what do you need
Youve got everything from your scruffy head to dirty feet
China you want to dance
Youre wearing makeup and listening to adam and the ants
They got the new look, they got the red book,
All the little people that are living in china
They got the answers to all the questions
All the little people that are living in china
The solution is revolution
For all the little people that are living in china
They got ping pong egg foo yung
The little people that are living in china
The solution is revolution
They got the answers to all the questions
All the little people that are living in china
China, living in china
China, living in china
China, living in china

song performed by Men Without Hats
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The Beautiful Land Of Australia

All you on emigration bent,
With home and England discontent,
Come, listen to my sad lament,
All about the bush of Australia.
I once possessed a thousand pounds.
Thinks I—how very grand it sounds
For a man to be farming his own grounds
In the beautiful land of Australia.

Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Upon the voyage the ship was lost.
In wretched plight I reached the coast,
And was very nigh being made a roast,
By the savages of Australia.

And in the bush I lighted on
A fierce bushranger with his gun,
Who borrowed my garments, every one,
For himself in the bush of Australia.

Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.

Sydney town I reached at last,
And now, thinks I, all danger's past,
And I shall make my fortune fast
In this promising land of Australia.
I quickly went with cash in hand,
Upon the map I chose my land.
When I got there 'twas barren sand
In the beautiful land of Australia.

Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.

Of sheep I got a famous lot.
Some died of hunger, some of rot,
For the devil a dropp of rain they got,
In this flourishing land of Australia.
My convict men were always drunk,
They kept me in a constant funk.
Says I to myself, as to bed I slunk,
How I wish I was out of Australia!

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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China

(ian hunter)
(transcribed by colin ford
China, china, the evenings moving in
See you, soon now, the boat moves with the wind
China, china, I can see the harbour lights
Light your, fire, well be warm tonight
China, china, the thoughts drift from the sea
Im dreaming, of you, wear your dress for me
China, china, the oceans on the wheel(? )
The seagulls flying lower now
China I can feel you by my side
Across the bay, across the tyne
Can you hear me say
China, china, wear your hair down low
Lady, lady, youre frozen to the bone
China, china, the catch was good today
The oilskins clinging to my back
And the lantern gently sways
Oh dont you cry, the kids to bed
Didnt mean the things I said
China, china, the years go rolling by
Laughter, sorrow, I will not make you cry
China, china, think before you speak
Always remember the ocean hauls as deep
And if Im tired of feeling low
Dont let me sleep, you know
China, china, the men are on the quay
Drinking, smoking, talking quietly
The waters calmer now
All my work is done
So china, see ya.

song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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China (Ronson Vocal)

China, China, the evening's moving in
See you, soon now, the boat moves with the wind
China, China, I can see the harbour lights
Light your, fire, we'll be warm tonight
China, China, the thoughts drift from the sea
I'm dreaming, of you, wear your dress for me
China, China, the oceans on the wheel(?)
The seagulls flying lower now
China I can feel you by my side
Across the bay, across the Tyne
Can you hear me say
China, China, wear your hair down low
Lady, Lady, you're frozen to the bone
China, China, the catch was good today
The oilskins clinging to my back
And the lantern gently sways
Oh don't you cry, the kids to bed
Didn't mean the things I said
China, China, the years go rolling by
Laughter, sorrow, I will not make you cry
China, China, think before you speak
Always remember the ocean hauls as deep
And if I'm tired of feeling low
Don't let me sleep, you know
China, China, the men are on the quay
Drinking, smoking, talking quietly
The water's calmer now
All my work is done
So China, see ya.

song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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Australia

Opportunities are available in all walks of life in australia
So if youre young and if youre healthy
Why not get a boat and come to australia
Australia, the chance of a lifetime
Australia, you get what you work for
Nobody has to be any better than what they want to be
Australia, no class distinction
Australia, no drug addiction
Nobodys got a chip on their shoulder
Well surf like they do in the u.s.a.
Well fly down to sydney for our holiday
On sunny christmas day
Australia, australia
No one hesitates at life or beats around the bush in australia
So if youre young and if youre healthy
Why not get a boat and come to australia
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Everyone walks around with a perpetual smile across their face
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Everyone gets around and nobody can ever get you down
Well surf like they do in the u.s.a.
Well fly down to sydney for our holiday
On sunny christmas day
Australia, australia

song performed by Kinks
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Song for Australia

There is a land where summer skies
Are gleaming with a thousand dyes
Blending in witching harmonies,
in harmonies;
and grassy knoll and forest height,
are flushing in the rosy light,
And all above is azure bright -
Australia, Australia, Australia.

There is a land where honey flows
Where laughing corn luxuriant grows;
Land of the myrtle and the rose,
land of the rose.
On hill and plain the clustering vine
Is gushing out with purple wine,
And cups are quaffed to thee and thine -
Australia, Australia, Australia.

There is a land where treasures shine
Deep in the dark unfathomed mine
For worshippers at Mammon's Shrine;
Where gold lies hid, and rubies glean,
And fable wealth no more doth seem
The idle fancy of a dream
Australia, Australia, Australia.

There is a land where homesteads peep
From sunny plain and woodland steep
And love and joy bright vigils keep;
Where the glad voice of childish glee
Is mingling with the melody
Of nature's hidden minstelsy
Australia, Australia, Australia.

There is a land where floating free,
From mountain top to girdling sea,
A proud flag waves exultingly, exultingly
And freedom's sons the banner bear,
No shackled slave can breathe the air;
Fairest of Britain's daughter fair
Australia, Australia, Australia.

poem by Caroline Carleton
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Gioconda And Si-Ya-U

to the memory of my friend SI-YA-U,
whose head was cut off in Shanghai

A CLAIM

Renowned Leonardo's
world-famous
"La Gioconda"
has disappeared.
And in the space
vacated by the fugitive
a copy has been placed.

The poet inscribing
the present treatise
knows more than a little
about the fate
of the real Gioconda.
She fell in love
with a seductive
graceful youth:
a honey-tongued
almond-eyed Chinese
named SI-YA-U.
Gioconda ran off
after her lover;
Gioconda was burned
in a Chinese city.

I, Nazim Hikmet,
authority
on this matter,
thumbing my nose at friend and foe
five times a day,
undaunted,
claim
I can prove it;
if I can't,
I'll be ruined and banished
forever from the realm of poesy.

1928

Part One
Excerpts from Gioconda's Diary

15 March 1924: Paris, Louvre Museum

At last I am bored with the Louvre Museum.

[...] Read more

poem by Nazim Hikmet
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The Heart of Australia

When the wars of the world seemed ended, and silent the distant drum,
Ten years ago in Australia, I wrote of a war to come:
And I pictured Australians fighting as their fathers fought of old
For the old things, pride or country, for God or the Devil or gold.

And they lounged on the rim of Australia in the peace that had come to last,
And they laughed at my "cavalry charges" for such things belonged to the past;
Then our wise men smiled with indulgence – ere the swift years proved me right –
Saying: "What shall Australia fight for? And whom shall Australia fight?"

I wrote of the unlocked rivers in the days when my heart was full,
And I pleaded for irrigation where they sacrifice all for wool.
I pictured Australia fighting when the coast had been lost and won –
With arsenals west of the mountains and every spur its gun.

And what shall Australia fight for? The reason may yet be found,
When strange shells scatter the wickets and burst on the football ground.
And "Who shall invade Australia?" let the wisdom of ages say
"The friend of a further future – or the ally of yesterday!"

Aye! What must Australia fight for? In the strife that never shall cease,
She must fight for her work unfinished: she must fight for her life and peace,
For the sins of the older nations. She must fight for her own reward.
She has taken the sword in her blindness and shall live or die by the sword.

But the statesman, the churchman, the scholar still peer through their glasses dim
And they see no cloud on the future as they roost on Australia's rim:
Where the farmer works with the lumpers and the drover drives a dray,
And the shearer on Garden Island is shifting a hill to-day.

Had we used the wealth we have squandered and the land that we kept from the plough,
A prosperous Federal City would be over the mountains now,
With farms that sweep to horizons and gardens where plains lay bare,
And the bulk of the population and the Heart of Australia there.

Had we used the time we have wasted and the gold we have thrown away,
The pick of the world's mechanics would be over the range to-day –
In the Valley of Coal and Iron where the breeze from the bush comes down,
And where thousands of makers of all things should be happy in Factory Town.

They droned on the rim of Australia, the wise men who never could learn;
Our substance we sent to the nations, and their shoddy we bought in return.
In the end, shall our soldiers fight naked, no help for them under the sun –
And never a cartridge to stick in the breech of a Brummagem gun?

With the Wars of the World coming near us the wise men are waking to-day.
Hurry out ammunition from England! Mount guns on the cliffs while you may!
And God pardon our sins as a people if Invasion's unmerciful hand
Should strike at the heart of Australia drought-cramped on the verge of the land.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Tibet

Tibet..
All reflected glories some are china come against Japan. China grasping greed as pick up Tibet for long and till now is law.
Venal official claim their own country lands.
China value china olden lands the fishing island which stand near the seas of Japan..
China says they own the fishing island.
Fishing island has change of owner countries for several times. Ok logically pick up fishing island regain their china lands.
Fishing islands back to china all as china grasping greed.
There are sin and china capture Tibet from DALA LAMA.
DALA LAMA and his precedents own and charge Tibet at the older next turns.
Now china arms are strong and all their policies may drum at the worlds but first is Japan which is this chesses and capturing cards.
One should love their country soils but fair for other countries.
Free the Tibet.
Free the Tibet before picking up fishing island and Japan seas that flowed near.
China deaden sounds are gongs and drums.
Get into deathful ends are creepy ways.
China matches are long are sad.
Only saints should lives every more.
China sins are then sinning.
Polar moods are wars are killing forces.
Give the Tibet back to old Tibet leaders all are rights.
---Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3---

poem by Cheung Shun Sang
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China

(jack hues / nick de spig)
China, china, on the sea shore
China, china, on the dance floor
China, china, I must have seen your face before
Ive been to cairo and Ive been to khartoum
Ive seen them places from my rented room
Ive been to paris and Ive been to marseille
But that was nothing till I got to cathay
Ive been to new york and Ive been to l.a.
Ive been to delhi and Ive been to bombay
Ive been to venice and Ive been to rome
But now its peking that I think of as home
China, china, on the sea shore
China, china, on the dance floor
China, china, theres no finer place on earth
China, china, I must have seen your face before

song performed by Wang Chung
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Lets Stomp Australia Way

Evrybodys doin it ,stompin australia way
Lets stomp , australia way
Thats what theyll do today
Lets stomp to the surfin wave
Evrybody in this here land
Come on , get yourself some sun
Were gonna stomp till the night is gone
Stomp , stomp , stompin australia way
It all began in sydney town , down avalon way
Then surf city came along
Well , youve got to stomp to stay
The denver man had ,ah-oo, stomp fever
What more can I say ,ooh
Evrybodys doin it , stompin australia way
Well, well, well
Lets stomp , australia way
Thats what theyll do today
Lets stomp to the surfin wave
Evrybody in this here land
Come on , get yourself some sun
Were gonna stomp till the night is gone
Stomp, stomp , stompin australia way
Lets stomp it now (break)
Evrybodys doin it , stompin australia way
Theyre doin it down in melbourne now
Stompin australia way
In brisbane and the gold coast too
They stomp all night and day
In adelaide town its a gettin around
Stomp is here to stay ,yeah
Evrybodys doin it , stompin australia way
Lets stomp australia way
Thats what theyll do today
Lets stomp to the surfin wave
Evrybody in this here land
Come on , get yourself some sun
We gonna stomp till the night is gone
Stomp , stomp , stompin australia way

song performed by Bee Gees
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Sing Austrailia

I come to Australia as many people do, to see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo.
To hear somebody call me "Mate" and call somebody "Blue,"
to hear an Aborigine play a didgeridoo.
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago,
some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow.
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings,
but all of us come with open hearts to hear Australia sing.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing.
Waltzing Matilda, the men of Gallipoli, Clancy of the Overflow and Crocodile Dundee.
The myth of all creation, the teaching of Baiame, the legends of the Dreamtime for all eternity.
And in this celebration, a brief two hundred years,
the cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears.
And if we stand divided, divided we shall fall. But if we stand together, we shall conquer all.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing..
Sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia.
In the sails on Sydney Harbour I can hear Australia sing.

song performed by John Denver
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Sing Australia

This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the a portrait, the john denver collection - calypso and the gift you are album
I come to australia as many people do
To see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo
To hear somebody call me mate and call somebody blue
To hear the aboriginee play a didgeridoo
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago
Some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings
But all of us come with open hearts to hear australia sing
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Waltzing matilda, the men of galipoli
Clancy of the overflow, crocodile dundee
The myth of all creation, the teaching of baiame
The legends of a dreamtime for all eternity
And in this celebration of a brief two hundred years
The cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears
And if we stand divided, divided we will fall
But if we stand together we shall conquer all
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Sing australia, sing australia, sing australia, sing australia
In the sails on sydney harbour
I can hear australia sing
Words and music by john denver

song performed by John Denver
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The Queer Ways Of Australia

Dick Briggs, a wealthy farmer’s son,
To England lately took a run,
To see his friends, and have some fun,
For he’d been ten years in Australia.
Arrived in England, off he went
To his native village down in Kent—
’Twas there his father drew his rent,
And many happy days he’d spent.
No splendid, fine clothes on had he,
But jumper’n boots up to the knee,
With dirty Sydney ‘cabbage-tree’—
The costume of Australia.

Chorus:
Now when a fellow takes a run
To England for a bit of fun,
He’s sure to ’stonish everyone
With the queer ways of Australia.

Now Dick went home in this array;
His sister came out and did say,
‘No, we don’t want anything today,’
To her brother from Australia.
Cried he, ‘Oh, don’t you know poor Dick?’
They recognized him precious quick;
The ‘old man’ hugged him like a brick.
And there was feasting there that night,
For Richard was a welcome sight,
For each one hailed with great delight
The wanderer from Australia.

The blessed cattle on the farm
Regarded Dick with great alarm;
His swearing acted like a charm
When he gave ’em a ‘touch’ of Australia.
He could talk ‘bullock’ and ‘no flies’,
And when he blessed poor Strawberry’s eyes,
She looked at him with great surprise
As out of her he ‘took a rise’.
‘Fie, fie,’ his mother said one day,
‘What naughty, wicked words you say.’
‘Bless you, mother, that’s the way
We wake ’em up in Australia.’
Dick went to London for a spree,
And got drunk there most gloriously;
He gave them a touch of ‘Coo-oo-ee’
The bush cry of Australia.
He took two ladies to the play,
Both so serene, in dresses gay,
He had champagne brought on a tray

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Thatcher
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The Great Adventure Of Max Breuck

1

A yellow band of light upon the street
Pours from an open door, and makes a wide
Pathway of bright gold across a sheet
Of calm and liquid moonshine. From inside
Come shouts and streams of laughter, and a snatch
Of song, soon drowned and lost again in mirth,
The clip of tankards on a table top,
And stir of booted heels. Against the patch
Of candle-light a shadow falls, its girth
Proclaims the host himself, and master of his shop.

2

This is the tavern of one Hilverdink,
Jan Hilverdink, whose wines are much esteemed.
Within his cellar men can have to drink
The rarest cordials old monks ever schemed
To coax from pulpy grapes, and with nice art
Improve and spice their virgin juiciness.
Here froths the amber beer of many a brew,
Crowning each pewter tankard with as smart
A cap as ever in his wantonness
Winter set glittering on top of an old yew.

3

Tall candles stand upon the table, where
Are twisted glasses, ruby-sparked with wine,
Clarets and ports. Those topaz bumpers were
Drained from slim, long-necked bottles of the Rhine.
The centre of the board is piled with pipes,
Slender and clean, the still unbaptized clay
Awaits its burning fate. Behind, the vault
Stretches from dim to dark, a groping way
Bordered by casks and puncheons, whose brass stripes
And bands gleam dully still, beyond the gay tumult.

4

'For good old Master Hilverdink, a toast!'
Clamoured a youth with tassels on his boots.
'Bring out your oldest brandy for a boast,
From that small barrel in the very roots
Of your deep cellar, man. Why here is Max!
Ho! Welcome, Max, you're scarcely here in time.

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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Broken Relationships

Wanting to mend them.
And to fix.
Those Broken relationships,
We came to know but miss.

Wanting to mend them.
And to fix.
Those broken relationships,
We came to know but miss.

Forgiving is easier when that act is done.
But to forget is not as quick,
As is wished.

Forgiving is easier when that act is done.
But to forget is not as quick,
As is wished.

Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.
Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.

Wanting to mend them.
And to fix.
Those Broken relationships,
We came to know but miss.

Wanting to mend them.
And to fix.
Those broken relationships,
We came to know but miss.

Forgiving is easier when that act is done.
But to forget is not as quick,
As is wished.

Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.
Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.
Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.
Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Violence Of Summer

Hey!, pick it up
This'll get you out.. of your head
China's heading up, by the ratings on a motion
She goes with a real head biker, he's a metalhead
She looks me up and down talkin' dirty eyes
Sweet sayin' boy, baby i can lick you any time.
(keep it up)
(ha ha, that's right)
Here we go again...
Bit later...
I'm gonna run into 'em round the back
While all them guys break heads in the sugar shack
Don't give me drink, i don't wanna get too stoned
Then we're gonna see who's gonna take who home
The violence of summer, and love's taking over
It starts with desire, ends up under cover
Those lips will make me right..
You may look down but don't think twice (ooh-oh)
So death is on the way,
So what man? i still want to play....
(oh-oh yeah..)
One, two!
This'll get you out, of your money
This'll pick you up, let's go!
We'll take a ride, going south where her mother writes
For bad news catches up, we still got a little time
We made it all so far away,
One thing is sure, we shouldn't stay
I'll take it all - china gonna get the run around,
A run, a run around..
(chorus)
China,na china,na,na,na
China,na china,na,na,na
China,na china,na,na,na
China,na china,na,na
(chorus)
Mmmmmm
Loves taking over..
Yes loves taking over..
Loves taking over..

song performed by Duran Duran
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Stockmen Of Australia

The stockmen of Australia, what rowdy boys are they,
They will curse and swear an hurricane if you come in their way.
They dash along the forest on black, bay, brown, or grey,
And the stockmen of Australia, hard-riding boys are they.

By constant feats of horsemanship, they procure for us our grub,
And supply us with the fattest beef by hard work in the scrub.
To muster up the cattle they cease not night nor day,
And the stockmen of Australia, hard-riding boys are they.

Just mark him as he jogs along, his stockwhip on his knee,
His white mole pants and polished boots and jaunty cabbage- tree.
His horsey-pattern Crimean shirt of colours bright and gay,
And the stockmen of Australia, what dressy boys are they.

If you should chance to lose yourself and dropp upon his camp,
He's there reclining on the ground, be it dry or be it damp.
He'll give you hearty welcome, and a stunning pot of tea,
For the stockmen of Australia, good-natured boys are they.

If down to Sydney you should go, and there a stockman meet,
Remark the sly looks cast on him as he roams through the street.
From the shade of lovely bonnets steal forth those glances gay,
For the stockmen of Australia, the ladies' pets are they.

Whatever fun is going on, the stockman will be there,
Be it theatre or concert, or dance or fancy fair.
To join in the amusements be sure he won't delay,
For the stockmen of Australia, light-hearted boys are they.

Then here's a health to every lass, and let the toast go round,
To as jolly a set of fellows as ever yet were found.
And all good luck be with them, for ever and to-day,
Here's to the stockmen of Australia—hip, hip, hooray!

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Men Who Made Australia

There'll be royal times in Sydney for the Cuff and Collar Push,
There’ll be lots of dreary drivel and clap-trap
From the men who own Australia, but who never knew the Bush,
And who could not point their runs out on the map.
Oh, the daily Press will grovel as it never did before,
There’ll be many flags of welcome in the air,
And the Civil Service poet, he shall write odes by the score—
But the men who made the land will not be there.
You shall meet the awful Lady of the latest Birthday Knight—
(She is trying to be English, don’t-cher-know?)
You shall hear the empty mouthing of the champion blatherskite,
You shall hear the boss of local drapers blow.
There’ll be ‘majahs’ from the counter, tailors’ dummies from the fleet,
And to represent Australia here to-day,
There’s the today with his card-case and his cab in Downing-street;
But the men who made Australia—where are they?

Call across the blazing sand wastes of the Never-Never Land!
There are some who will not answer yet awhile,
Some whose bones rot in the mulga or lie bleaching on the sand,
Died of thirst to win the land another mile.
Thrown from horses, ripped by cattle, lost on deserts; and the weak,
Mad through loneliness or drink (no matter which),
Drowned in floods or dead of fever by the sluggish slimy creek—
These are men who died to make the Wool-Kings rich.

Call across the scrubby ridges where they clear the barren soil,
And the gaunt Bush-women share the work of men—
Toil and loneliness for ever—hardship, loneliness and toil—
Where the brave drought-ruined farmer starts again!
Call across the boundless sheep-runs of a country cursed for sheep—
Call across the awful scrublands west of Bourke!
But they have no time to listen—they have scarcely time to sleep—
For the men who conquer deserts have to work.

Dragged behind the crawling sheep-flock on the hot and dusty plain,
They must make a cheque to feed the wife and kids—
Riding night-watch round the cattle in the pelting, freezing rain,
While world-weariness is pressing down the lids.
And away on far out-stations, seldom touched by Heaven’s breath,
In a loneliness that smothers love and hate—
Where they never take white women—there they live the living death
With a half-caste or a black-gin for a mate.

They must toil to save the gaunt stock in the blazing months of drought,
When the stinging, blinding blight is in men’s eyes—
On the wretched, burnt selections, on the big runs further out
Where the sand-storm rises lurid to the skies.
Not to profit when the grass is waving waist-high after rain,
And the mighty clip of wool comes rolling in—

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Marriage Bonds

“I never looked for any marriage bond, ”
said Heloise to Abelard.
She knew that marriage is no magic wand,
despite the popular canard
that it consolidates relationships
that would be broken otherwise.
A lovely face can’t launch a thousand ships,
and marriage fails as a franchise
unless, instead of drifting without ease
into the boredom of routine,
the married couple sails like ships on seas,
not stretching in a limousine,
but tossed by waves whose turbulence ensures
that all emotions that they’ve felt
will amplify and not disarm amours,
providing them not a lifelovebelt,
but surfboard with which they can catch the waves,
not drowning since they do not tread
upon the other’s dreams, not bound like slaves
to rings that bound them when first wed.

Inspired by Katie Roiphe’s review of “A Vindication of Love” by Cristina Nehring in the NYT Book Review, June 21 (“Feverish Limitations”) :
Feverish Liaisons, Katie Rophe, June 21,2009
Publishers. $24.99
For most of us love is largely a matter of shared mortgage payments, evenings curled up on the couch in front of a video, or maybe a night in a hotel for an anniversary. But Cristina Nehring has a different idea. Her ardent polemic, “A Vindication of Love, ” puts forward a darker, more demanding vision of love. This is not, it should be said right away, a book without ambition: the subtitle is “Reclaiming Romance for the Twenty-First Century, ” though it is not exactly romance Nehring is writing about, but a more difficult, vital image of passion she believes we have lost. “We have been pragmatic and pedestrian about our erotic lives for too long, ” she writes, and in an examination of real and invented figures from the Wife of Bath to Frida Kahlo, she revels in love affairs that do not rely on our more hackneyed narratives. The result of Nehring’s literary and historical inquiry is a celebration of the wilder, messier connections. Her heroes and heroines tend to die, like Young Werther, who shoots himself; or try to die, like Mary Wollstonecraft, who throws herself off a bridge; or suffer, like Abelard and Heloise, one of whom is castrated and one of whom ends up in a nunnery. And yet Nehring admires these flamboyant men and women for the creative force of their affairs, for their ability to live outside the lines, for the ferocity of their feelings. She sees our modern goals of marriage, security and comfort as limited and sad, and quotes approvingly Heloise’s statement to Abelard: “‘I looked for no marriage bond, ’ she flashed. ‘I never sought anything in you but yourself.’ ”
In her most provocative and interesting chapters, Nehring argues for the value of suffering, for the importance of failure. Our idea of a contented married ending is too cozy and tame for her. We yearn for what she calls “strenuously exhibitionistic happiness” — think of family photos on Facebook — but instead we should focus on the fullness and intensity of emotion. She writes of Margaret Fuller: “Fuller’s failures are several times more sumptuous than other folks’ successes. And perhaps that is something we need to admit about failure: It can well be more sumptuous than success.... Somewhere in our collective unconscious we know — even now — that to have failed is to have lived.” Nehring sees in the grandeur of feeling a kind of heroism, even if the relationship doesn’t take conventional form or endure in the conventional way. For Nehring, one senses, true failure is to drift comfortably along in a dull relationship, to spend precious years of life in a marriage that is not exciting or satisfying, to live cautiously, responsibly. Is the strength of feeling redeemed in the blaze of passion even if it does not end happily? she asks. Is contentment too soft and modest a goal? Elsewhere, Nehring interrogates our steadfast insistence on balanced, healthy relationships, our readiness to condemn doomed, impossible entanglements. She argues that it may in fact be a sign of health to enter into a relationship that is turbulent, demanding or unorthodox. She praises long-distance relationships, arduous relationships, relationships with men who are elusive, relationships the therapeutic culture adamantly opposes. She asks, “Could it be that the choice of a challenging love object signals strength and resourcefulness rather than insecurity and psychological damage, as we so often hear? ”

6/26/09

poem by Gershon Hepner
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