Day: April 16, 2013

Caveat: Τείχη

Language & Linguistics / Not My Poetry / Philosophy & Cultural Criticism / Quotable

Τείχη

Χωρίς περίσκεψιν, χωρίς λύπην, χωρίς αιδώ
μεγάλα κ’ υψηλά τριγύρω μου έκτισαν τείχη.
Και κάθομαι και απελπίζομαι τώρα εδώ.
Αλλο δεν σκέπτομαι: τον νουν μου τρώγει αυτή η τύχη·
διότι πράγματα πολλά έξω να κάμω είχον.
Α όταν έκτιζαν τα τείχη πώς να μην προσέξω.
Αλλά δεν άκουσα ποτέ κρότον κτιστών ή ήχον.
Ανεπαισθήτως μ’ έκλεισαν από τον κόσμον έξω.
– Κωνσταντίνος Π. Καβάφης (1896)


I only ever studied Demotic Greek (i.e. post-classical, sometimes thought of Biblical). This poem is modern Greek and I didn’t even make an effort to understand it – I can figure out maybe 10% of the vocabulary (mostly function words as opposed to substantive), but at that, it might still be better than my atrocious ability in Korean.
I found the poem with English translation here.

Walls

Without consideration, without pity, without shame
they have built great and high walls around me.
And now I sit here and despair.
I think of nothing else: this fate gnaws at my mind;
for I had many things to do outside.
Ah why did I not pay attention when they were building the walls.
But I never heard any noise or sound of builders.
Imperceptibly they shut me from the outside world.
– Constantine P. Cavafy (1896)

Caveat: God’s Plan

Philosophy & Cultural Criticism / Quotable

"When the Missionaries arrived, the Africans had the land and the Missionaries had the Bible. They taught us how to pray with our eyes closed. When we opened them, they had the land and we had the Bible." – Jomo Kenyatta, the first Prime Minister and President of Kenya.

I mean the title to this post ironically. I guess I'm thinking about colonialism, lately. In that vein, another quote:

"There
are many humorous things in the world; among them, the white man’s
notion that he is less savage than the other savages." – Mark Twain.

Caveat: If language were liquid

Background Noise / Banalities & Journaling

I am writing a lot, these days. Well, "a lot" is a relative term. More than usual.

But I'm not yet putting it out there in blog land. I might not, ever.

What I'm listening to right now.

Suzanne Vega, "Language."

The lyrics:

If language were liquid
It would be rushing in
Instead here we are
In a silence more eloquent
Than any word could ever be

These words are too solid
They don't move fast enough
To catch the blur in the brain
That flies by and is gone
Gone
Gone
Gone

I'd like to meet you
In a timeless, placeless place
Somewhere out of context
And beyond all consequences

Let's go back to the building
(Words are too solid)
On Little West Twelfth
It is not far away
(They don't move fast enough)
And the river is there
And the sun and the spaces
Are all laying low
(To catch the blur in the brain)
And we'll sit in the silence
(That flies by and is)
That comes rushing in and is
Gone (Gone)

I won't use words again
They don't mean what I meant
They don't say what I said
They're just the crust of the meaning
With realms underneath
Never touched
Never stirred
Never even moved through

If language were liquid
It would be rushing in
Instead here we are
In a silence more eloquent
Than any word could ever be

And is gone
Gone
Gone
And is gone

Back to Top