Lawrence and the spiritual confessions of Rainer Maria Rilke. Pan fairly anticipates the sensuous and erotic works of D. The beauty of the natural world is teeming in the forest and Hamsun is too wise not to use its beauty for his own ends. McFarlane's translation from Norwegian, Knut Hamsun's Pan (1894) is ringing in one's ears with its lyrical presentation of man's inner nature. I'm very much taken by the poetic expressions in this novel. I turn my head, the strangely heavy air ebbs away and I see something like the back of a spirit who wanders soundlessly through the forest. The wind calls to me and my soul bows in obedience to the call, I feel myself lifted out of my context, pressed to an invisible breast, tears spring to my eyes, I tremble-God is standing somewhere near looking at me. What is it? I look about me and see no one. A slight breeze springs up, an unnatural gust of wind strikes me, a strange rush of air. "It is the moon," I say softly and passionately, "it is the moon!" And my heart beats gently towards it. I look up at the crescent moon standing in the sky like a white shell and I feel a great love for it, I feel myself blushing. I close my eyes.Īfter an hour, all my senses are throbbing in rhythm, I am ringing with the great stillness, ringing with it. A fir cone falls from its branch, and then a dry twig or two. I lie closer to the fire and watch the flames.
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