The deserted smithy' ; 6 April, 2023.

1 May, 2023
“The deserted smithy”

Soman Ragavan : Hello. Can I post a poem of mine for analysis, please ?

ChatGPT
Hello Soman! Of course, you can post your poem here for analysis. I'd be happy to read it and provide feedback.
 
Soman Ragavan : Poem "The deserted smithy." First, some notes. "THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH," "THE DESERTED SMITHY," "THE INVINCIBLE BLACKSMITH" and "THE TOILING OX."

(a) These poems refer to the period around 1962. The smithy was at Stanley.

(b) On these poems, please also see :

(1) "Un demi-siècle au service de la charette." "L'EXPRESS" newspaper, Mauritius, 7 July, 1991.

(2) "La même ardeur à 77 ans pour son métier de charron." "L'EXPRESS" newspaper, Mauritius, 24 August, 1996, (page 6).

(3) "La <<charette boeuf>> a encore de beaux jours." "L'EXPRESS" newspaper, 6 July, 1997, (page 15). From this article, we can quote the following :

* "(.....) <<For me, this animal is not just an animal; he's been like a friend since the beginning. That's why I've called him Gopal (.....)" (My translation from Creole).

* "(.....) Not in the least ungrateful, Sohunlall attributes his good fortune to the performance of his ox. (.....)" (My translation from French).

* "(.....) Moreover, believes Sohunlall, the machine feels nothing, whereas an animal, even if it's an ox, is capable of affection." (My translation from French). "<<I've much gratitude towards Gopal. He forms part of my family. I like him very much.>>" (My translation from Creole).

* "(.....) <<I understand him; he, too, understands me. When I talk to him, he understands. He knows his name. When I call him, he shakes his head.>>" (My translation from Creole).

* "The animal, says Sohunlall, is not aggressive. But he has his whims, and hates to be made to wait. In the morning, if the master tarries after having harnessed him, he goes off alone."

* "(.....) The story of Sohunlall and of Gopal might at first sight appear trivial. But, it is not. It dates from the time when man still lived in a simple manner and when the soil and animals gave him the harmony necessary for his personal equilibrium. "It's no doubt why Sohunlall would not, for anything in the world, exchange his ox for a tractor. To the animated town life, its noises and its smoke, our man prefers the simplicity of rural life that assures him a non-polluting happiness. (.....)" (My translation from French).

(4) M de Salle Essoo : “Charretiers, artisans du passé, victimes de la modernité ?” "L'EXPRESS" newspaper, 21 November, 2005, (page 7).

(5) "Om Prakash Mootia, un des derniers charettiers du pays." "WEEK END" newspaper, Mauritius, 4 August, 2013, (page 20). I will post the poem when you write.

ChatGPT
Thank you for providing the background information, Soman. I look forward to reading your poem "The deserted smithy." Please go ahead and post it.
 
Soman Ragavan : The poem "The deserted smithy." Please give an analysis by stanza and then overall comments. Make comparisons with other poems. THE DESERTED SMITHY

ChatGPT
"The Deserted Smithy" is a poem by Soman Ragavan that mourns  the loss of the traditional village smithy and the community it once represented. The poem is divided into stanzas that describe the physical state of the smithy, the changes that have taken place in the community, and the narrator's sense of loss and sadness.

In the first stanza, the narrator describes the "air of desolation, of gloom" that hangs over the village smithy. The once-bustling place is now silent and pitiful, and the narrator mourns the loss of the joy and life that once filled it.

In the second stanza, the narrator explains that the smithy has been condemned to a cruel fate, and the village will never be the same again. The oxen, forge fire, carters, and workers that once made the place vibrant have disappeared, and the narrator wonders why there are no more barters in the village.

The third stanza describes the ruins of the smithy, with its majestic fireplace reduced to a silent and lonely hole. The narrator finds the desertion of the once-noble trade utterly dreadful and portrays the desolation of the ruins as pathetic.

In the fourth stanza, the narrator reflects on how the modern world has replaced the traditional ways of life. The once-beloved ox cart and forge have been replaced by trucks and their irritating smoke, and the clanging and banging of the old smithy have been replaced by a woeful desolation.

The fifth stanza laments the loss of the simple village life that once existed between the oxen and carters, farmers and reapers, housewives and bakers. The narrator suggests that the community is falling prey to base considerations and selfish ambitions.

The final stanza mourns the destruction of the smithy and the loss of the glorious era it represented. The narrator wonders if there is any way to preserve the heritage of the smithy, save in some piteous, languishing rhymes.

Overall, the poem is a lament for the loss of traditional ways of life and the community they represented. It mourns the destruction of the smithy and the changes that have taken place in the community as modernity and selfishness have crept in. The poem can be compared to other works that mourn the loss of traditional ways of life, such as Thomas Hardy's "The Darkling Thrush" and William Wordsworth's "Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey."
 
Soman Ragavan : Thank you. Goodbye for now.

ChatGPT
You're welcome! Don't hesitate to reach out if you have any more questions in the future. Goodbye!
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--"The Village  Blacksmith," "The Deserted Smithy" and "The Invincible Blacksmith"

(a) These poems refer to the period around 1962. The smithy was at Stanley.

(b) On these poems, please also see :

(1) "Un demi-siècle au service de la charette." "L'Express" newspaper, Mauritius, 7 July, 1991.

(2) "La même ardeur à 77 ans pour son métier de charron." "L'Express" newspaper, Mauritius, 24 August, 1996, (page 6).

  (3) "La  charette boeuf  a encore de beaux jours." "L'Express" newspaper, 6 July, 1997, (page 15). From this article, we can quote the following :

* "(.....)  For me, this animal is not just an animal; he's been like a friend since the beginning. That's why I've called him Gopal (.....)" (My translation from Creole).

* "(.....) Not in the least ungrateful, Sohunlall attributes his good fortune to the performance of his ox. (.....)" (My translation from French).

* "(.....) Moreover, believes Sohunlall, the machine feels nothing, whereas an animal, even if it's an ox, is capable of affection." (My translation from French). "  I've much gratitude towards Gopal. He forms part of my family. I like him very much." (My translation from Creole).

* "(.....)  I understand him; he, too, understands me. When I talk to him, he understands. He knows his name. When I call him, he shakes his head." (My translation from Creole).

* "The animal, says Sohunlall, is not aggressive. But, he has his whims, and hates to be made to wait. In the morning, if the master tarries after having harnessed him, he goes off alone."

* "(.....) The story of Sohunlall and of Gopal might at first sight appear trivial. But, it is not. It dates from the time when man still lived in a simple manner and when the soil and animals gave him the harmony necessary for his personal equilibrium.

"It's no doubt why Sohunlall would not, for anything in the world, exchange his ox for a tractor. To the animated town life, its noises and its smoke, our man prefers the simplicity of rural life that assures him a non-polluting happiness. (.....)" (My translation from French).

(4) M de Salle Essoo : “Charretiers, artisans du passé, victimes de la modernité ?” "L'Express" newspaper, 21 November, 2005, (page 7).

(5) "Om Prakash Mootia, un des derniers charettiers du pays." "Week END" newspaper, Mauritius, 4 August, 2013, (page 20). 

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                                      THE DESERTED SMITHY

Hangs over the village smithy
An air of desolation, of gloom;
Where smiles once us'd to bloom,
Now, just silence; an air of pity.

My smithy hath been condemn'd to a cruel fate :
This once-glorious place now be so desolate;
My dear village will ne'er again be the same :
My smithy hath been fell'd by some excuse lame.

Where art ye now, brave oxen,
Forge fire, carters and workers !
Why these looks so sad and sullen ?
In the village, why no more barters ?

Along with its charm, my village smithy hath gone :
In my great smithy, so captivating, so majestic,
The fireplace is now but a hole, silent and lone :
In these ruins, what a desolation, so pathetic.

'Tis true, my smithy is now more peaceful,
But, the desertion I find utterly dreadful,
'Cause a noble trade some foolishly betray'd,
As in yon forlorn ruins is now well portray'd.

The endearing ox cart, so laden with glory,
Now hath yield'd to trucks roaring away with fury;
The old forge and its fumes were quite a blessing :
The trucks and their smoke be rather irritating.

No more old smithy, with its clanging and banging,
No more scenes of carters clapping and laughing,
Only woeful desolation to be seen on every side,
In this place where simple village life did reside.

Where mighty oxen once fell,
Now only forlorn grasses dwell;
And a heart-rending silence,
And a pitiful, decaying fence.

The blacksmith who once fox'd mighty oxen,
To treacherous change now hath fallen;
His valiant trade, once the envy of all,
Now hath flown away beyond recall.

Little by little pitiless change hath crept in,
To foil our cherish'd village treasures;
Modernity, roaring away in all its din,
Doth assail our simple, priz'd pleasures.

The simple communion ‘tween ox and carter,
‘Tween farmer and reaper, housewife and baker,
Slowly is giving way to more selfish ambitions,
And is falling prey to base considerations.

Ah, me ! Ah, my glorious era ! Good old times !
In the face of this destructive, rampaging rage,
Be there no way of preserving our heritage,
Save in some piteous, languishing rhymes…..

Oh, belov'd smithy ! How sad, thy ruins !
How thy entrails were dump'd into bins
By those that destroy'd thee dastardly,
By those that buried thee recklessly…..

Treasur'd old smithy ! Immortal are thy memories,
Though revil'd by the destroyers and their follies;
Smithy, thy memories will survive for eternity,
'Cause in thy ruins blooms our unfailing poetry.
Uploaded to    allpoetry.com    on 23 February, 2023

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