October 17, 2005
Feminism
 | "I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat..." |
eyed at 9:42 AM
1 Comments
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at 1:08 AM
said... I’m writing to You from a country, almost at the opposite side of You on the globe. From a country, You, I believe, never have heard, as of the sounds our language.
It was a blind chance, I fell to Your blog and after reading lot of pieces on it - telling You frankly - Your, like blase, like being perhaps away from real life, too deep in Your own, spirit - I’m afraid, I have not found the right word – it the same time has irritated, as attracted me!
I like poetry and You’re writing it. So I dared write some verses to You, of different authors, different minds, perhaps also different of Your ones. They are in original languages. Translate a poem is not possible. Translation, whatsoever of the same content and mind, is even an another piece.
So here they are:
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry –
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded bonhour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive Good attending Captain Ill;
Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
Il pleure dans mon coeur,
comme il pluie sûr la ville.
Quelle es cette langeur,
qui penetre dans mon coeur?
Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam
im Norden, auf kahler Höh.
Ihn schläfert. Mit weisser Decke
Umhüllen ihn eis und Schnee.
Er träumt von einer Palme,
die fern am Morgenland
einsam und schweigend trauert
auf brennender Felsenwand.
My heart yearns on
the foot of the
mountain in spring
and I feel to be here
a day lasting for ever
In winter I must stay at night
and dress by yellow candlelight.
In summer, quite another way
I have to go to bed by day!
I have no personal blog. If You want, You’ll find my e-mail address below. Ants.
antskand@hot.ee