I came across this brilliant crossover video, featuring Hope’s “Tiger” recited to an accompanying imagery of Japan and its culture throughout. If any, Japan’s society is one that is impressively replacing old gods for new, fleeting ones, transferring their fears from jungle tigers to paper tigers in the process. Very powerful lines, beautiful shots, and an intense and intimate journey altogether.
A. D. Hope discusses, in one of the most spectacular poems humans have produced, the existence of the paper tigers, who are but “something that seems threatening but is ineffectual and unable to withstand challenge”. Or, as the author of the video tries to point out, the new elements of worship many societies are running after. Paper tigers are those new gods who are not real gods, they are Fat Kid and Mr. Media. Jungle tigers are the real, tangible earth-borne elements that give meaning to life. They are the real issues that are actually happening out there, beyond the foggy windows of karaokes, the greenback, the rush hour and all the constitutions who make no sense. Jungle tiers are the real machinery that run the ticket office for the rollercoasters. Hope suggests the removal of the paper tigers, the unbarring of the door and the walking outside, as a means to come face the real tiger who is awaiting there. Ultimately, this encounter, regardless of the outcome, is to come to terms with who you are, with your possibilities, your limitations; is to be completely aware of what resources you have, of how long they will last, and to act accordingly so as to live and die in a complete, circumspect way, embracing everything that “existing” can provide you with, which is great deal of experiencing, captivating and entrancing and all.
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9L_VRiBgLEc]
The paper tigers roar at noon;
The sun is hot, the sun is high.
They roar in chorus, not in tune,
Their plaintive, savage hunting cry.
O, when you hear them, stop your ears
And clench your lids and bite your tongue.
The harmless paper tiger bears
Strong fascination for the young.
His forest is the busy street;
His dens the forum and the mart;
He drinks no blood, he tastes no meat:
He riddles and corrupts the heart.
But when the dusk begins to creep
From tree to tree, from door to door,
The jungle tiger wakes from sleep
And utters his authentic roar.
It bursts the night and shakes the stars
Till one breaks blazing from the sky;
Then listen! If to meet it soars
Your heart’s reverberating cry,
My child, then put aside your fear:
Unbar the door and walk outside!
The real tiger waits you there;
His golden eyes shall be your guide.
And, should he spare you in his wrath,
The world and all the worlds are yours;
And should he leap the jungle path
And clasp you with his bloody jaws,
Then say, as his divine embrace
Destroys the mortal parts of you:
I too am of that royal race
Who do what we are born to do.