"The Ocean" by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

"The Ocean" by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

... Oceanward I am ever yearning,

Where far it rolls in its calm and grandeur,

The weight of mountain-like fogbanks bearing,

Forever wandering and returning.

The skies may lower, the land may call it,

It knows no resting and knows no yielding.

In nights of summer, in storms of winter,

Its surges murmur the self-same longing.

Yes, oceanward I am ever yearning,

Where far is lifted its broad, cold forehead!

Thereon the world throws its deepest shadow

And mirrors whispering all its anguish.

Though warm and blithesome the bright sun stroke it

With joyous message, that life is gladness,

Yet ice-cold, changelessly melancholy,

It drowns the sorrow and drowns the solace.

The full moon pulling, the tempest lifting,

Must loose their hold on the flowing water.

Down whirling lowlands and crumbling mountains

It to eternity tireless washes.

What forth it draws must the one way wander.

What once is sunken arises never.

No message comes thence, no cry is heard thence;

Its voice, its silence, can none interpret.

Yes, toward the ocean, far out toward ocean,

That knows no hour of self-atonement!

For all that suffer release it offers,

But trails forever its own enigma.

A strange alliance with Death unites it,

That all it give Him,--itself excepting!

I feel, vast Ocean, thy solemn sadness,

To thee abandon my weak devices,

To thee let fly all my anxious longings:

May thy cool breath to my heart bring healing!

Let Death now follow, his booty seeking:

The moves are many before the checkmate!

Awhile I'll harass thy love of plunder,

As on I scud 'neath thy angry eyebrows;

Thou only fillest my swelling mainsail,

Though Death ride fast on thy howling tempest;

Thy billows raging shall bear the faster

My little vessel to quiet waters.

Ah! Thus alone at the helm in darkness,

By all forsaken, by Death forgotten,

When sails unknown far away are wafted

And some swift-coursing by night are passing,

To note the ground-swell's resistless current,

The sighing heart of the breathing ocean --

Or small waves plashing along the planking,

Its quiet pastime amid its sadness.

Then glide my lingering longings over

Into the ocean-deep grief of nature,

The night's, the water's united coldness

Prepares my spirit for death's dark dwelling.

Then comes day's dawning! My soul bounds upward

On beams of light to the vault of heaven;

My ship-steed sniffing its flank is laving

With buoyant zest in the cooling billow.

With song the sailor to masthead clambers

To clear the sail that shall swell more freely,

And thoughts are flying like birds aweary

Round mast and yard-arm, but find no refuge. ...

Yes, toward the ocean! To follow Vikar!

To sail like him and to sink as he did,

For great King Olaf the prow defending!

With keel unswerving the cold thought cleaving,

But hope deriving from lightest breezes!

Death's eager fingers so near the rudder,

While heaven's clearness the way illumines!

And then at last in the final hour

To feel the bolts and the nails are yielding

And Death is pressing the seams asunder,

That in may stream the absolving water!

Wet winding-sheets shall be folded round me,

And I descend to eternal silence,

While rolling billows my name bear shoreward

In spacious nights 'neath the cloudless moonlight! 

Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne. "The Ocean" N.p.: n.p., 1914. Poemhunter.com. Web. 25 Sept. 2015.

             

"Bjornstjerne Bjornson." Depositphotos. N.p., n.d. Web. 28 Sept. 2015. <http://depositphotos.com/8970015/stock-photo-bjornstjerne-bjornson.html>.

         "The Ocean" by Bjornstjerne Bjornson is a compelling poem about the ocean and what is represents. The content of this poem is geared toward a negative perspective on the ocean. Although one with a "salty" vocabulary would greater benefit from this poem, one could still easily understand and appreciate its significance. Bjornson describes the ocean as a ruthless body that has holds no regret for its wrongdoings. This poem follows a common theme associating the vast lifeless ocean with death.

          Though the title does nothing to further to further his argument, Bjornson's stylistic techniques make this poem very effective. His tone in the poem an be seen as loathsome toward the ocean as though it ripped someone he loved right from his arms. He also reveals a presence of fear for the ocean as well a sense of fear. Bjornson speaks of his little vessel in the vast ocean as though he were being humble towards the ocean. Bjornson uses personification in several instances to prove his point. "Though warm and blithesome the bright sun strokes it with joyous message, that life is gladness, Yet ice-cold, changelessly melancholy, It drowns the sorrow and drowns the solace" (Bjornson). This placement of personification effectively shows the weight that the ocean holds if it can drown even the sun out. Bjornson uses repetition to affirm his point of view. "What forth it draws must the one way wander. What once is sunken arises never. No message comes thence, no cry is heard thence; Its voice, its silence, can none interpret" (Bjornson). Through his use of cunning diction, he describes the ocean as a vast space of lifeless sorrow where only death prevails.

          Aided by literary devices, the historical context really unifies the central idea of the poem; The ocean is a heedless monster. Bjornson is a Norwegian born poet. His motif for writing the poem came from his cultural beliefs surrounding Kings Vikar and Olaf. The legendary tales of these cultural figures consisted of the ocean ruthlessly claiming two more victims. The fact that the kings were Norwegian, like himself, provides much more inspiration for the writer and evokes much more emotional appeal for the reader. This poem cast only one of the many perspectives that water can provide in literature.