“Elegy Of Fortinbras” Zbigniew Herbert (trans. Czeslaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott) for C.M., contributed by by Kasie Leung (2025)
“Elegy Of Fortinbras”
Zbigniew Herbert (trans. Czeslaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott)
for C.M.
Now that we’re alone we can talk prince man to man
though you lie on the stairs and see no more than a dead ant
nothing but black sun with broken rays
I could never think of your hands without smiling
and now that they lie on the stone like fallen nests
they are as defenceless as before The end is exactly this
The hands lie apart The sword lies apart The head apart
and the knight’s feet in soft slippers
You will have a soldier’s funeral without having been a soldier
the only ritual I am acquainted with a little
There will be no candles no singing only cannon-fuses and bursts
crepe dragged on the pavement helmets boots artillery horses drums
drums I know nothing exquisite
those will be my manoeuvers before I start to rule
one has to take the city by the neck and shake it a bit
Anyhow you had to perish Hamlet you were not for life
you believed in crystal notions not in human clay
always twitching as if asleep you hunted chimeras
wolfishly you crunched the air only to vomit
you knew no human thing you did not know even how to breathe
Now you have peace Hamlet you accomplished what you had to
and you have peace The rest is not silence but belongs to me
you chose the easier part of an elegant thrust
but what is heroic death compared with eternal watching
with a cold apple in one’s hand on a narrow chair
with a view of the ant-hill and the clock’s dial
Adieu prince I have tasks a sewer project
and a decree on prostitutes and beggars
I must also elaborate a better system of prisons
since as you justly said Denmark is a prison
I go to my affairs This night is born
a star named Hamlet We shall never meet
what I shall leave will not be worth a tragedy
It is not for us to greet each other or bid farewell we live on archipelagos
and that water these words what can they do what can they do prince
I’ve always been compelled by “Elegy of Fortinbras,” and how it illustrates the complexity of grief. Initially, death seems to strip these two princes of their pretenses, and talk “man to man,” which captures the way that, sometimes, one can only speak honestly to the deceased after their death. Yet, Fortinbras tells Hamlet that he will “have a soldier’s funeral without having been a soldier / the only ritual I am acquainted with a little.” Not only is this tragedy applicable to those who have been alienated from their grief by war, as in Hector and Andromache, but those who feel inadequate in their mourning. The task of honoring the deceased by performing appropriate rituals can seem daunting, and this poem reminds me that it is normal to “not know” how to grieve. Moreover, Fortinbras grapples with Hamlet’s suicidality, asserting that “you knew no human thing you did not know even how to breathe.” I have experienced a loss that ended years of suffering for the deceased, and I remember feeling ashamed at my sense of relief that they were no longer in pain. The repetition that “you have peace” doesn’t minimize the enormity of the bereaved’s loss, but I hope it can be a comfort.
“Elegy of Fortinbras” is an elegy of the living, not for the dead, meaning that Fortinbras must also consider how to keep living: “I must also elaborate a better system of prisons / since as you justly said Denmark is a prison.” There’s also an irony in this line, but there’s also the affirmation that we can make meaning after loss by building a world that the deceased would have wanted to see. Moreover, this line winks at the text of Hamlet, which so “justly said Denmark is a prison.” We may not all achieve the notoriety of Shakespeare, but our words will be interpolated by—and live on in—those who have loved us. In this way, the words of Horace, “non omnis moriar,” are fulfilled—I will not altogether die. At the end, Fortinbras asks, “we live on archipelagos / and that water these words what can they do what can they do prince.” On the surface, it seems as if the speaker finds what he has “written” meaningless, but this sentiment is betrayed by the dissolution in the logic of the last couplet. Fortinbras jumps from “archipelagos” to the “water” that separates people, to the futility of “words” to connect them. The repetition of “what can they do what can they do” answers its own question: the words, and their loss of structure, are tangible evidence of the speaker’s grief. Finally, Fortinbras addresses Hamlet as “prince,” returning us to the opening of the poem, and reminding us that mourning can be a cyclical process. Ultimately, “Elegy of Fortinbras” reminds me that grief cannot always be sanctified, and that all emotions towards the deceased—regret, anger, relief—can play a part in remembrance.