Sitting at the table next to me is a man with a white beard and sweats working on problems out of a calculus textbook. Go him.
The Penguin Book of Restoration Verse reminds me once again that while Dryden's generations did much to improve the conversational registers of poetry, their love poetry makes me want to stagger off to a volume of Cavalier poets for an antidote.
Reading Yotsuba to! volume 1 in the original will, once I get the hang of it, do wonders for my grasp of Japanese colloquialisms. And of Kansai dialect. Until then, I shall have to stumble a lot. (I have to say, though, Koiwai and Jumbo are Such Guys. I mean, in translation, they come across as men who've been friends for a long time and so know exactly how to friendly insult each other. In Japanese, it's ore and omae all over the place, and when Koiwai doesn't end a sentence with naa it's zo instead.)
Without these storm clouds,
the moutains seem to rise up
like a flat backdrop.
Drifts of rain and fog highlight
the folds of ridge and canyon.
There's Ooo!, and then there's Oooooo ...
(More of Sakurajima)
The concept of the invisible translator is as pernicious a myth as that of transparent prose: discuss.
---L.
ETA from an anonymous ballad:
The Penguin Book of Restoration Verse reminds me once again that while Dryden's generations did much to improve the conversational registers of poetry, their love poetry makes me want to stagger off to a volume of Cavalier poets for an antidote.
Reading Yotsuba to! volume 1 in the original will, once I get the hang of it, do wonders for my grasp of Japanese colloquialisms. And of Kansai dialect. Until then, I shall have to stumble a lot. (I have to say, though, Koiwai and Jumbo are Such Guys. I mean, in translation, they come across as men who've been friends for a long time and so know exactly how to friendly insult each other. In Japanese, it's ore and omae all over the place, and when Koiwai doesn't end a sentence with naa it's zo instead.)
Without these storm clouds,
the moutains seem to rise up
like a flat backdrop.
Drifts of rain and fog highlight
the folds of ridge and canyon.
There's Ooo!, and then there's Oooooo ...
(More of Sakurajima)
The concept of the invisible translator is as pernicious a myth as that of transparent prose: discuss.
---L.
ETA from an anonymous ballad:
Till twelve or till one he will never come home,"Mome"?
And then he's so drunk he that he lies like a Mome
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Date: 1 March 2010 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 1 March 2010 12:53 am (UTC)---L.
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Date: 2 March 2010 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2 March 2010 02:36 pm (UTC)---L.
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Date: 1 March 2010 07:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 1 March 2010 06:15 pm (UTC)---L.
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Date: 1 March 2010 02:48 pm (UTC)Glossed as "dolt, blockhead: not used elsewhere by Shakespeare." Many etymologies suggested, none convincing.
no subject
Date: 1 March 2010 06:14 pm (UTC)---L.