September 27, 2006

Poetry blogging

It was 1995, and I was spending most of my time in Germany, far away from my Love. It would be late in the morning when I returned from my night shift at the accelerator. I'ld bake up a french bread, spread on butter, slap on a slice of cheese. Then I'ld sit back in our Ikea poang chair, and listen to the glorious sounds of the Carmina Burana. I can honestly say that if it weren't for anything else, I'ld still be happy to understand Latin just because of Orff's genius.

This is one of my favourites:

AESTUANS INTERIUS

Aestuans interius
ira vehementi
in amaritudine
loquor meae menti;
factus de materia,
cinis elementi,
similis sum folio,
de quo ludunt venti.

Cum sit enim proprium
viro sapienti
supra petram ponere
sedem fundamenti,
stultus ego comparor
fluvio labenti
sub eodem tramite
numquam permanenti.

Feror ego veluti
sine nauta navis,
ut per vias aeris
vaga fertur avis;
non me tenent vincula,
non me tenet clavis;
quaero mihi similes,
et adiungor pravis.

Mihi cordis gravitas
res videtur gravis;
iocus est amabilis
dulciorque favis;
quicquid Venus imperat,
labor est suavis,
quae numquam in cordibus
habitat ignavis.

Via lata gradior
more iuventutis,
implicor et vitiis
immemor virtutis,
voluptatis avidus
magis quam salutis,
mortuus in anima
curam gero cutis.

=================== translation (from http://www.tylatin.org/extras/cb11.html)

Burning inwardly with strong anger,
in my bitterness I speak to my soul;
created out of matter, ashes of the earth,
I am like a leaf with which the winds play.

Whereas it is proper for a wise man
to place his foundations on rock,
I, in my folly, am like a flowing river,
never staying on the same course.

I am borne along like a ship without a sailor,
just as a wandering bird is carried along paths of air;
chains do not keep me nor does a key;
I seek men like myself, and I surround myself with rogues.

For me a serious heart is too serious a matter;
a joke is pleasant and sweeter than honeycombs;
whatever Venus orders is pleasant toil;
she never dwells in faint hearts.

I go on the broad way after the manner of youth;
and I entangle myself in vice, forgetful of virtue;
greedy for pleasure more than for salvation,
I, dead in my soul, attend to the needs of my flesh.

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