(no subject)
It's kind of astonishing, and perhaps a little pathetic, just how much the music I'm listening to affects my mood. A couple rounds of "Down to Earth" the other day, and I got so chest-squeezy I may have actually mildly strained a muscle in my back. ^^ I also fell down on the stairs today, which was very special; I expect to have two rather impressive bruises on my knees tomorrow.
I'm also a little alarmed by the frequency with which I'm finding myself composing posts in my head when things happen to me. o.O
B and her boyfriend have had their first true argument, by which I mean there was crying and yelling involved, albeit over Skype. I managed to escape upstairs, and helped AT with her Spanish homework, despite the fact that pretty much everything I know about Spanish, I learned from French. After that, I got to sit by and read Br's book on Proto-Indo-European, which I heart like mad. Linguistics is the discipline of my heart.
Which reminds me: having gotten my Lit books, and having a moment to spare, I want to put up a couple of the Egyptian poems, mostly for my own future reference, because they are awesome.
My love is one and only, without peer,
lovely above all Egypt's lovely girls.
On the horizon of my seeing,
see her, rising,
glistening goddess of the sunrise star
bright in the forehead of a lucky year.
So there she stands, epitome
of shining, shedding light,
her eyebrows, gleaming darkly, marking
eyes which dance and wander.
Sweet are those lips, which chatter
(but never a word too much),
and the line of the long neck lovely, dropping
(since song's notes slide that way)
to young breasts firm in the bouncing light
which shimmers that blueshadowed sidefall of hair.
And slim are those arms, overtoned with gold,
those fingers which touch like a brush of lotus.
And (ah) how the curve of her back slips gently
by a whisper of waist to god's plenty below.
(Such thighs as hers pass knowledge
of loveliness known in the old days.)
Dressed in the perfect flesh of woman
(heart would run captive to such slim arms),
she ladies it over the earth,
schooling the neck of each schoolboy male
to swing on a swivel to see her move.
(He who could hold that body tight
would know at last
perfection of delight -
best of the bullyboys,
first among lovers.)
Look you, all men, at that golden going,
like Our Lady of Love,
without peer.
From the Norton Anthology of World Literature, Volume A, Page 49; selection originally translated by John L. Foster.
My favorite bits of that one are mostly pieces of phrases - "bright in the forehead of a lucky year", "blueshadowed sidefall of hair", "heart would run captive to such slim arms". And, of course, the delightful euphemism of "god's plenty below". :D
I was simply off to see Nefrus my friend,
just to sit and chat at her place
(about men),
when there, hot on his horses, comes Mehy
(oh god, I said to myself, it's Mehy!)
right over the crest of the road
wheeling along with the boys.
Oh Mother Hathor, what shall I do?
Don't let him see me!
Where can I hide?
Make me a small creeping thing
to slip by his eye
(sharp as Horus')
unseen.
Oh, look at you, feet -
(this road is a river!)
you walk me right out of my depth!
Someone, silly heart, is exceedingly ignorant here -
aren't you a little too easy near Mehy?
If he sees that I see him, I know
he will know how my heart flutters (Oh, Mehy!)
I know I will blurt out,
"Please take me!"
(I mustn't!)
No, all he would do is brag out my name,
just one of the many ... (I know) ...
Mehy would make me just one of the girls
for all of the boys in the palace.
(Oh Mehy)
From the Norton Anthology of World Literature, Volume A, Page 51; selection originally translated by John L. Foster.
This is one of the funny ones, although it also has a couple phrases I find particularly touching (particularly the "oh, look at you, feet" part). I find myself liking how the speaker reminds herself to be realistic in the last stanza, but can't stop herself from one last, wistful oh, Mehy.
And a shorter funny one - I think I'll go home and lie very still,
feigning terminal illness.
Then the neighbors will all troop over to stare,
my love, perhaps, among them.
How she'll smile while the specialists
snarl in their teeth! -
she perfectly well knows what ails me.
From the Norton Anthology of World Literature, Volume A, Page 51; selection originally translated by John L. Foster.
The last line actually made me laugh out loud a little, the first time I read it. ^^
And the last one: Love of you is mixed deep in my vitals,
like water stirred into flour for bread,
like simples compound in a sweet-tasting drug,
like pastry and honey mixed to perfection.
Oh, hurry to look at your love!
Be like horses charging in battle,
like a gardener up with the sun
burning to watch his prize bud open.
High heaven causes a girl's lovelonging.
It is like being too far from the light,
far from the hearth of familiar arms.
It is this being so tangled in you.
From the Norton Anthology of World Literature, Volume A, Page 52; selection originally translated by John L. Foster.
I like the second half of this one better than the first; the last few images stuck with me the best (particularly "the hearth of familiar arms").
All of this, plus the PIE stuff, reminds me that I am, at long last, very nearly finished with the Babel passage, and, as a bonus, Psalms 23 and 137. However, I need to run through them one more time to make a few last corrections to the grammar. I also have been struck by a new conlang bug - this time, I'm thinking something with cases, and maybe combinations of glottal stops and syllabic ms and ns (possibly even ls and rs, although I do want to be sure I can pronounce the end product). I kind of half-finished a conlang that used a relatively simple sort of click, once, and I'd like to try that again, too. I need to expand my phonetic horizons!
Ahem. So, barring any totally unforeseen grammatical snarls, I vow to myself to post the darned thing tomorrow. That, plus another chapter of HP AU and a few more cliché-bingo-fic wanderings - and some homework, of course - and I may actually feel like I've managed to accomplish something this week. \o/
I'm also a little alarmed by the frequency with which I'm finding myself composing posts in my head when things happen to me. o.O
B and her boyfriend have had their first true argument, by which I mean there was crying and yelling involved, albeit over Skype. I managed to escape upstairs, and helped AT with her Spanish homework, despite the fact that pretty much everything I know about Spanish, I learned from French. After that, I got to sit by and read Br's book on Proto-Indo-European, which I heart like mad. Linguistics is the discipline of my heart.
Which reminds me: having gotten my Lit books, and having a moment to spare, I want to put up a couple of the Egyptian poems, mostly for my own future reference, because they are awesome.
My love is one and only, without peer,
lovely above all Egypt's lovely girls.
On the horizon of my seeing,
see her, rising,
glistening goddess of the sunrise star
bright in the forehead of a lucky year.
So there she stands, epitome
of shining, shedding light,
her eyebrows, gleaming darkly, marking
eyes which dance and wander.
Sweet are those lips, which chatter
(but never a word too much),
and the line of the long neck lovely, dropping
(since song's notes slide that way)
to young breasts firm in the bouncing light
which shimmers that blueshadowed sidefall of hair.
And slim are those arms, overtoned with gold,
those fingers which touch like a brush of lotus.
And (ah) how the curve of her back slips gently
by a whisper of waist to god's plenty below.
(Such thighs as hers pass knowledge
of loveliness known in the old days.)
Dressed in the perfect flesh of woman
(heart would run captive to such slim arms),
she ladies it over the earth,
schooling the neck of each schoolboy male
to swing on a swivel to see her move.
(He who could hold that body tight
would know at last
perfection of delight -
best of the bullyboys,
first among lovers.)
Look you, all men, at that golden going,
like Our Lady of Love,
without peer.
From the Norton Anthology of World Literature, Volume A, Page 49; selection originally translated by John L. Foster.
My favorite bits of that one are mostly pieces of phrases - "bright in the forehead of a lucky year", "blueshadowed sidefall of hair", "heart would run captive to such slim arms". And, of course, the delightful euphemism of "god's plenty below". :D
I was simply off to see Nefrus my friend,
just to sit and chat at her place
(about men),
when there, hot on his horses, comes Mehy
(oh god, I said to myself, it's Mehy!)
right over the crest of the road
wheeling along with the boys.
Oh Mother Hathor, what shall I do?
Don't let him see me!
Where can I hide?
Make me a small creeping thing
to slip by his eye
(sharp as Horus')
unseen.
Oh, look at you, feet -
(this road is a river!)
you walk me right out of my depth!
Someone, silly heart, is exceedingly ignorant here -
aren't you a little too easy near Mehy?
If he sees that I see him, I know
he will know how my heart flutters (Oh, Mehy!)
I know I will blurt out,
"Please take me!"
(I mustn't!)
No, all he would do is brag out my name,
just one of the many ... (I know) ...
Mehy would make me just one of the girls
for all of the boys in the palace.
(Oh Mehy)
From the Norton Anthology of World Literature, Volume A, Page 51; selection originally translated by John L. Foster.
This is one of the funny ones, although it also has a couple phrases I find particularly touching (particularly the "oh, look at you, feet" part). I find myself liking how the speaker reminds herself to be realistic in the last stanza, but can't stop herself from one last, wistful oh, Mehy.
And a shorter funny one - I think I'll go home and lie very still,
feigning terminal illness.
Then the neighbors will all troop over to stare,
my love, perhaps, among them.
How she'll smile while the specialists
snarl in their teeth! -
she perfectly well knows what ails me.
From the Norton Anthology of World Literature, Volume A, Page 51; selection originally translated by John L. Foster.
The last line actually made me laugh out loud a little, the first time I read it. ^^
And the last one: Love of you is mixed deep in my vitals,
like water stirred into flour for bread,
like simples compound in a sweet-tasting drug,
like pastry and honey mixed to perfection.
Oh, hurry to look at your love!
Be like horses charging in battle,
like a gardener up with the sun
burning to watch his prize bud open.
High heaven causes a girl's lovelonging.
It is like being too far from the light,
far from the hearth of familiar arms.
It is this being so tangled in you.
From the Norton Anthology of World Literature, Volume A, Page 52; selection originally translated by John L. Foster.
I like the second half of this one better than the first; the last few images stuck with me the best (particularly "the hearth of familiar arms").
All of this, plus the PIE stuff, reminds me that I am, at long last, very nearly finished with the Babel passage, and, as a bonus, Psalms 23 and 137. However, I need to run through them one more time to make a few last corrections to the grammar. I also have been struck by a new conlang bug - this time, I'm thinking something with cases, and maybe combinations of glottal stops and syllabic ms and ns (possibly even ls and rs, although I do want to be sure I can pronounce the end product). I kind of half-finished a conlang that used a relatively simple sort of click, once, and I'd like to try that again, too. I need to expand my phonetic horizons!
Ahem. So, barring any totally unforeseen grammatical snarls, I vow to myself to post the darned thing tomorrow. That, plus another chapter of HP AU and a few more cliché-bingo-fic wanderings - and some homework, of course - and I may actually feel like I've managed to accomplish something this week. \o/