Elenore

Your lips intoxicate me
Even though your folks hate me ...

More '60s stuff. "Elenore" by the Turtles.

Love that tambourine player:

Wrong!

WRONG! You all had Special K with bananas.

[Another nugget of pop culture. Who can identify the source of the quotation above?]

Lahiri on Lacerda

Jhumpa Lahiri on Alberto de Lacerda

Steven Riddle of Flos Carmeli recently mentioned the author Jhumpa Lahiri, and even more recently, I found this article at the website of the Poetry Foundation. It is Lahiri's reminiscence of her time as a student of the Portuguese-language poet Alberto de Lacerda.

Stylistics

The (early) '70s

OK, so this song is going through my head right now, so I'm compelled to post the video. "Betcha By Golly Wow" by the Stylistics. Someday, blogging about Important Things will resume, but right now enjoy this mellow, pretty tune from back when.

There's a spark of magic in your eyes ...

Summer

I hate summer. Hate it. If I won the lottery, and never had to work a day again in my life, I'd buy us a cottage on the Norwegian seacoast, or some other cool place, and we'd stay there until All Saints Day. I fear and loathe summer. I think air conditioning is mankind's greatest invention. Just so you know.

Rod Dreher, May 24th

Psalm paraphrased

I am looking at the hills

Where the f--- are the reinforcements?

(Being an explanation of some of the archaisms in the old Anglican Prayer Book.)

Video no longer available, drat

Blogger's block continues

so here's yet another video clip, this time from the '60s. "A World Without Love" by Peter and Gordon. Volume's a bit loud on this one:

The much-beloved Tracy

We're overdue for some Tracy Chapman ...

"Say Hallelujah":

Afterthought?

Untitled jotting

God is not
          an afterthought:

He thinks of me
          before I think of Him!

Sen. Kennedy

Senator Kennedy

I tried blogging about the sad news yesterday, but deleted all of my several attempts.

However, this blogger's sentiments approximate mine, so I'll direct my few readers to his eloquent, apt words.

Video unavailable, drat

A musical interlude

"Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, who would have turned 49 today:

Locust-beans

Locust-beans?

"Obey with a will, and you shall eat the best that earth yields; but, if you refuse and rebel, locust-beans shall be your only food" (Isaiah 1:19-20, NEB).

In a footnote, the translators acknowledge that an alternate rendering is "if you refuse and rebel, you shall be eaten by the sword."

New English Bible

The New English Bible; or, Bishop Sheen nods

The late Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen claimed sometime during the 1970s that the New English Bible (NEB) was the most beautiful of all the modern translations. Now, I've owned my NEB for roughly four days, and have encountered some pretty quirky choices of translation. See the two examples cited in the previous post.

In addition, there's "a mighty wind" for "the Spirit of God" in Genesis 1; "young woman" for "virgin" in Isaiah 7:14; "bitter enemies of thy temple tear me in pieces" in place of "zeal for thy house consumes me" in Psalm 69; "they have hacked off my hands and feet" in Psalm 22 ("pierced" is the usual verb); and, in the Song of Songs, "majestic as the starry heavens" where one would expect "terrible as an army with banners."

On the other hand, there is at least one advantage that the NEB has over its 1989 revision, the REB (Revised English Bible): in the Epistles, it retains "brother" where the REB has "fellow-Christian." "Fellow-Christian" is, of course, a gesture toward inclusivity, but it loses the familial dimension of "brother." One may as well say "co-partisan"!

So, while I continue to admire Archbishop Sheen, I think it's safe to say that he missed a few of the troublesome spots in the NEB translation.

New English Bible

I am an asphodel in Sharon,
    a lily growing in the valley.

Song of Songs 2:1, New English Bible

[...] he revived me with apricots;
    for I was faint with love.

Song of Songs 2:5, New English Bible

Upcoming

Possibly upcoming ...

Asphodels and apricots. The New English Bible.

Syesha

O factum male!

Oconomowoc

He left out Oconomowoc ...

Fr Groeschel

The Catholic Church will always include people that you and I would consider disreputable.

Benedict J. Groeschel, CFR, Healing the Original Wound, p. 147

(I consider myself disreputable!)

Muscular boy?

She's a muscular boy must to avoid ...

Cummings

Cummings
the 60th of his 95 poems

dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)

trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)

honour the past
and welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at this wedding)

never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for god likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)

Misheard

Misheard '60s song-lyric
from Herman's Hermits

Original: She's a must-to-avoid ...

What I heard: She's a muscular boy ...

Pentecost

Pentecost

Veni, Sancte Spiritus,
et emitte caelitus
lucis tuae radium.

Veni, pater pauperum,
veni, dator munerum
veni, lumen cordium.

Consolator optime,
dulcis hospes animae,
dulce refrigerium.

In labore requies,
in aestu temperies
in fletu solatium.

O lux beatissima,
reple cordis intima
tuorum fidelium.

Sine tuo numine,
nihil est in homine,
nihil est innoxium.

Lava quod est sordidum,
riga quod est aridum,
sana quod est saucium.

Flecte quod est rigidum,
fove quod est frigidum,
rege quod est devium.

Da tuis fidelibus,
in te confidentibus,
sacrum septenarium.

Da virtutis meritum,
da salutis exitum,
da perenne gaudium.

(Translation here.)

Fr Groeschel

On one occasion, an abortion clinic voluntarily closed because of the huge number of pro-life demonstrators. When our brothers in their gray habits turned away and proceeded home on the subway, they were followed by a number of pro-abortion demonstrators who thought they were moving on to another clinic. Suddenly these women were terrified to find themselves in the middle of the subway station in a run-down section called Fort Apache. This gave our brothers the first opportunity they had ever had to speak to them. In fact, the brothers remained with the women to see that they got safely back on the subway. Some of the protestors admitted that they had listened to the other side for the first time.

Benedict J. Groeschel, CFR, Healing the Original Wound, p. 132

Viva hate

"Hate Poem"
by Julie Sheehan

I don't hate this poem. Never heard of the author, but it made me smile.

Quiz

Poetry quiz!

I am heroic couplets; most precise And fond of order. Planned and structured. Nice. I know, of course, just what I want; I know, As well, what I will do to make it so. This doesn't mean that I attempt to shun Excitement, entertainment, pleasure, fun; But they must keep their place, like all the rest; They might be good, but ordered life is best. What Poetry Form Are You?

The last time I took this quiz I was a rubai.

Via For Keats' Sake!

Hillary

George Will's latest

Yankee Fan Go Home. About -- who else? -- the Hillcat, as TSO calls her.

Andrew Sullivan linked to this article, but didn't quote the best parts, of which there are many; e.g.:

[Sen. Clinton] may think, or at least would argue, that when she was 12 her Yankees really won the 1960 World Series, by standards of "fairness," because they trounced the Pirates in runs scored, 55-27, over seven games, so there.

Unfortunately, baseball's rules -- pesky nuisances, rules -- say it matters how runs are distributed during a World Series. The Pirates won four games, which is the point of the exercise, by a total margin of seven runs, while the Yankees were winning three by a total of 35 runs. You can look it up.

Read Will's evisceration of the "lifelong" pinstripes-booster and her elaborate math.

Fr Groeschel

I used to kid myself that I didn't have the same prejudices as many others. [...] However, the very real prejudices I do harbor are much more deep-seated, and thus much more pagan. Do you know whom I have a burning prejudice against? People who don't like me, or ignore me, or think that what I have to say is not worthwhile. I'm not particular. If you like me, it doesn't matter to me who or what you are. But if you don't appreciate me or what I have to say, a little pagan quickly rears his ugly head, full of prejudices and hurt feelings.

Perhaps you thought priests were holier than that. Don't I wish!

Benedict J. Groeschel, CFR, Healing the Original Wound, pp. 106-7

Sacred Scripture

Can a man take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned?

Proverbs 6:27

Fr Groeschel

The Christian is called not only to appreciate Christ but to follow Christ.

Benedict J. Groeschel, CFR, Healing the Original Wound, p. 95

Observation

Amaryllis is made of vers libre.

Cummings

Cummings

if seventy were young

Hiatus

Another blogging hiatus upcoming

This time, from tomorrow morning until Wednesday, possibly Thursday.

Fr Groeschel

A sister who was the head of the Holy Ghost Hospital in Rome introduced herself to Pope John XXIII by saying, "I'm the superior of the Santo Spiritu." The pope shot back, "The superior of the Holy Ghost! I'm only the Vicar of Christ."

Benedict J. Groeschel, CFR, Healing the Original Wound, p. 85

Roethke

In this, the diocese of mice,
Who's bishop of breathing?

Theodore Roethke, from "O, Lull Me, Lull Me"

Hopkins

The May Magnificat
by Gerard Manley Hopkins, SJ (1844-89)

May is Mary's month, and I
Muse at that and wonder why:
      Her feasts follow reason,
      Dated due to season—

Candlemas, Lady Day;
But the Lady Month, May,
      Why fasten that upon her,
      With a feasting in her honour?

Is it only its being brighter
Than the most are must delight her?
      Is it opportunest
      And flowers finds soonest?

Ask of her, the mighty mother:
Her reply puts this other
      Question: What is Spring?—
      Growth in every thing—

Flesh and fleece, fur and feather,
Grass and greenworld all together;
      Star-eyed strawberry-breasted
      Throstle above her nested

Cluster of bugle blue eggs thin
Forms and warms the life within;
      And bird and blossom swell
      In sod or sheath or shell.

All things rising, all things sizing
Mary sees, sympathising
      With that world of good,
      Nature's motherhood.

Their magnifying of each its kind
With delight calls to mind
      How she did in her stored
      Magnify the Lord.

Well but there was more than this:
Spring's universal bliss
      Much, had much to say
      To offering Mary May.

When drop-of-blood-and-foam-dapple
Bloom lights the orchard-apple
      And thicket and thorp are merry
      With silver-surfèd cherry

And azuring-over greybell makes
Wood banks and brakes wash wet like lakes
      And magic cuckoocall
      Caps, clears, and clinches all—

This ecstasy all through mothering earth
Tells Mary her mirth till Christ's birth
      To remember and exultation
      In God who was her salvation.

Hiatus

Blogging hiatus upcoming

from this evening until late Thursday.

Sestina at 20

Make ready for the coming of the spring!
Away with all those memories of pain!
A world begins where few thoughts are final.
Through rayed blue skies the shining seagulls plunge
Suddenly, as if to halt a crisis
Wherein the land thickens with strange green growth.

Patches of earth, so long unused to growth,
Are now faced with the happy threat of spring:
A sweet disturbance and a welcome crisis,
A dangerous thrill, a pleasurable pain.
Green stems soar into light; careful roots plunge
Fingers into darkness whose face is final.

Winter had a way of seeming final,
Excluding possibilities of growth.
Snowflakes fell; the mercury took its plunge.
We waited for the necessary spring
To melt the brace of icy pain
Which placed our hearts in subzero crisis.

In each new weather, twittering in crisis,
Brisk sparrows gather in trees that are final
On branches that tremble in frequent pain.
We hear crisp notes, exclamations of growth --
How do we take the temperature of spring?
How deeply into subsoil must we plunge?

Answer: We deal in surfaces, no plunge
Involved in calculating our crisis.
It is spring when the wind says it is spring;
The sentence of our skin and pulse is final.
We know we have achieved our sought-for growth
In the smooth scour of sunlight when our pain

Of winter changes into sweeter pain.
Love menaces us and we take the plunge;
We gamble on joy's exponential growth,
Oblivious of a round-the-corner crisis.
"But hope is endless, fear is never final,"
Hints the blunt dusk. We feel the sting of spring

And thus does spring remind us of our pain.
Summer makes it final. The brief nights plunge
Our blood into a crisis we call growth.

Quotation

Even in the darkness of mortal sin, faith is constantly preaching.

Fr Frederick Faber, via Groeschel, Healing the Original Wound, p. 57