Aeneid translation notes, Book I, lines 520-560

Now to cover the embassy sent to beseech Dido to grant them aid.  Not quite as exciting as the previous passage, but still may be of some interest to readers.

Postquam introgressi et coram data copia fandi,
maximus Ilioneus placido sic pectore coepit:
'O Regina, novam cui condere Iuppiter urbem
iustitiaque dedit gentis frenare superbas,
Troes te miseri, ventis maria omnia vecti,
oramus, prohibe infandos a navibus ignis,
parce pio generi, et propius res aspice nostras.
Non nos aut ferro Libycos populare Penatis
venimus, aut raptas ad litora vertere praedas;
non ea vis animo, nec tanta superbia victis.
Est locus, Hesperiam Grai cognomine dicunt,
terra antiqua, potens armis atque ubere glaebae;
Oenotri coluere viri; nunc fama minores
Italiam dixisse ducis de nomine gentem.
Hic cursus fuit,
cum subito adsurgens fluctu nimbosus Orion
in vada caeca tulit, penitusque procacibus austris
perque undas, superante salo, perque invia saxa
dispulit; huc pauci vestris adnavimus oris.
Quod genus hoc hominum? Quaeve hunc tam barbara morem
permittit patria? Hospitio prohibemur harenae;
bella cient, primaque vetant consistere terra.
Si genus humanum et mortalia temnitis arma
at sperate deos memores fandi atque nefandi. 

'Rex erat Aeneas nobis, quo iustior alter,
nec pietate fuit, nec bello maior et armis.
Quem si fata virum servant, si vescitur aura
aetheria, neque adhuc crudelibus occubat umbris,
non metus; officio nec te certasse priorem
poeniteat. Sunt et Siculis regionibus urbes
armaque, Troianoque a sanguine clarus Acestes.
Quassatam ventis liceat subducere classem,
et silvis aptare trabes et stringere remos:
si datur Italiam, sociis et rege recepto,
tendere, ut Italiam laeti Latiumque petamus;
sin absumpta salus, et te, pater optime Teucrum,
pontus habet Libyae, nec spes iam restat Iuli,
at freta Sicaniae saltem sedesque paratas,
unde huc advecti, regemque petamus Acesten.'

Talibus Ilioneus; cuncti simul ore fremebant
Dardanidae. 

When they had entered and were given the opportunity of speaking face to face with the queen, Ilioneus, the leader, with calm in his heart, began:  "O queen, granted by Jupiter to build a new city and to restrain the proud peoples with justice, we miserable Trojans, carried by the winds over the entire sea, pray to you; keep away the fire from our ships, spare my pious people and look closer at our situation.  We have not come to Libya with swords or to plunder your household gods or to take plunder and to drive it to the shore; that force nor such haughtiness is not for a defeated soul.  There is a place that the Greeks call Hesperia, an ancient land, powerful in arms and fertile soil.  Men of Oenotrius have cultivated it, the story has told us that their descendents have named it Italy from the name of their leader.  This was our course, [unfinished line], when suddenly the surging tide of stormy Orion drove us into the hidden shoals and dispersed us with the boisterous south winds through the waves and over the impenetrable rocks and the salt waves overcame us; we few have swum to your shores.  What kind of men are these?  What land permits such barbarous law?  We have been kept off of the refuge of the beach:  your men arouse war and they prevent us to stand on the beach.  If you scorn the human race and the arms of mortal beings, expect the gods to be mindful of right and wrong.  Aeneas was our king, than whom no other was more fair and pious, or greater in war and arms.  If the fates save the man, if he still breathes the air of heaven and if he as yet not been laid dead in the harsh underworld, there is no fear to us, do not regret to have been the first to contend in rivalry of kindness:  in Sicily there are cities and arms, and Acestes is of clear Trojan blood.  Let us be permitted to beach our ships shattered by the winds and to hew timber in the woods and to trim the oars, in order that we might seek fertile Italy and Latium, if we are given to extend our course to Italy with our king and companions; but if the health is destroyed, and you, noblest father of the Trojans, if the Sea of Libya holds you and the hope not remains of Iulus, at least then let us seek the waters of Sicily and a home already prepared from which we were borne away, and let us seek King Acestes."  Iionous said this; and all of the Trojans shouted with one voice.

Dido's response and what follows afterwards will be posted sometime during the weekend.  Changed the wording slightly from my 1994 translation, but on the whole, kept over 90% of it the same.  Quite rough in patches, though.

What do you read when you want to become wiser?

I've had two nights off this week, one due to icy weather, the other due to a long-planned day/night off to observe Ash Wednesday.  Unfortunately, I made the mistake of reading Twitter for more than 5 minutes every 4-6 hours, so I see certain topics keep being discussed, almost to the point of ad nauseam, without there seeming to be any real furthering of the discussions in enlightening ways.  It's like reading a series of competing monologues, people presenting their points as if the vague "others" out there who may be (or are) in disagreement with them have not "gotten it," "are not getting it," and likely "never will get it."  After a while, it feels repetitive, like I am a (mostly) mute witness to shadow bashing of differing view points.

I'm not going to comment further on the specifics of what I was reading (it was more than a single issue and it really seems to be more complex than what many are allowing for in their 140 character comments), but instead, thinking in part on the religious season that began today for me and in part on what I seem to be wanting to read more lately, I'm going to pause for a minute from presenting my own views on matters and instead inquire about something more universal:  works that inspire a sense of developing wisdom.

What works out there should one read in order to broaden one's horizons or to think deeper about life and the greater humanity in which we live and operate?  I know there are some who will say the obvious ones, like the Bible or Confucius's Analects or the Tao te Ching or perhaps the writings of Thomas Merton or Sor Juana, just to name a few that come to mind.  What works are out there that you've read and felt as though you grew in your understanding of self and others?  Curious to know what I've overlooked so far in life and what might benefit people to have considered while reading.

Aeneid translation notes, Book I, lines 441-519

Ah, the "fun part" of Book I is about to begin, as Vergil recounts the Trojan War, filling in details not explicitly covered in the Homeric poems.  I remember these being fun to translate twenty years ago, although I seem to have left several lines untranslated then that I'll have to attempt to do now.  Leaning more and more to translating Books II and III after I finish posting my Book I notes, despite the need for more time to do all-new translations due to virtually none of them being translated for class back then (I do have copies of my old tests and there were unseen translation passages from near the beginning of Book II that I can use).  Of course, this is perhaps a personal conceit, seeing how there have yet to be any responses to this (not that I expected any, as part of the reason for doing this was transferring my old notes to a digital medium in order to preserve them better), but certainly a better use of my time than blogging about something that I'll forget the specifics of within a week.  Now onto the building action:

Lucus in urbe fuit media, laetissimus umbra,
quo primum iactati undis et turbine Poeni
effodere loco signum, quod regia Iuno
monstrarat, caput acris equi; sic nam fore bello
egregiam et facilem victu per saecula gentem.
Hic templum Iunoni ingens Sidonia Dido
condebat, donis opulentum et numine divae,
aerea cui gradibus surgebant limina, nexaeque
aere trabes, foribus cardo stridebat aenis.
Hoc primum in luco nova res oblata timorem
leniit, hic primum Aeneas sperare salutem
ausus, et adflictis melius confidere rebus.
Namque sub ingenti lustrat dum singula templo,
reginam opperiens, dum, quae fortuna sit urbi,
artificumque manus inter se operumque laborem
miratur, videt Iliacas ex ordine pugnas,
bellaque iam fama totum volgata per orbem,
Atridas, Priamumque, et saevum ambobus Achillem.
Constitit, et lacrimans, 'Quis iam locus' inquit 'Achate,
quae regio in terris nostri non plena laboris?
En Priamus! Sunt hic etiam sua praemia laudi;
sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt.
Solve metus; feret haec aliquam tibi fama salutem.'
Sic ait, atque animum pictura pascit inani,
multa gemens, largoque umectat flumine voltum.

A sacred grove was in the middle of the city, happiest shade, in which place the Phoenicians, thrown by storm and sea, first dug up the symbol, which royal Juno pointed out, the head of a fierce horse; this indeed destined the Carthaginians to be distinguished in war and easy to sustain for ages.  Here the Sidonian queen Dido was building an enormous temple for Juno, rich in offerings and the presence of the goddess, on the steps of which were leading up to a threshold of bronze, beams jointed with bronze and the bronze doors creaked as they turned in their sockets.  in this grove for the first time Aeneas dared to hope for safety and trust for the better in his afflictions.  While waiting for the queen and surveying everything under the roof of the huge temple, as he admired the fortune of the city and the craftsmanship of the artisans he saw Troy in order the battle as the Trojan War was made known throughout the whole world.  The sons of Atreus and Priam and Achilles who was harsh to both sides.  He halted and lamented, "What place now," he said, "Achates, in the whole world does not know of our labor?  Behold, Priam.  Even here are our own rewards of praise.  There is compassion for suffering and mortal things touch the heart.  Dismiss fear; this fame will bring some kind of safety to you."  He said this, and his spirit feeds on the empty picture, sighing often, he wets his face with plentiful crying.  

A little rough, but hints of grandeur peek through here and there.  More is to be seen in the following scenes depicted in the friezes Aeneas is gazing upon:

Namque videbat, uti bellantes Pergama circum
hac fugerent Graii, premeret Troiana iuventus,
hac Phryges, instaret curru cristatus Achilles.
Nec procul hinc Rhesi niveis tentoria velis
adgnoscit lacrimans, primo quae prodita somno
Tydides multa vastabat caede cruentus,
ardentisque avertit equos in castra, prius quam
pabula gustassent Troiae Xanthumque bibissent.
Parte alia fugiens amissis Troilus armis,
infelix puer atque impar congressus Achilli,
fertur equis, curruque haeret resupinus inani,
lora tenens tamen; huic cervixque comaeque trahuntur
per terram, et versa pulvis inscribitur hasta.
Interea ad templum non aequae Palladis ibant
crinibus Iliades passis peplumque ferebant,
suppliciter tristes et tunsae pectora palmis;
diva solo fixos oculos aversa tenebat.
Ter circum Iliacos raptaverat Hectora muros,
exanimumque auro corpus vendebat Achilles.
Tum vero ingentem gemitum dat pectore ab imo,
ut spolia, ut currus, utque ipsum corpus amici,
tendentemque manus Priamum conspexit inermis.
Se quoque principibus permixtum adgnovit Achivis,
Eoasque acies et nigri Memnonis arma.
Ducit Amazonidum lunatis agmina peltis
Penthesilea furens, mediisque in milibus ardet,
aurea subnectens exsertae cingula mammae,
bellatrix, audetque viris concurrere virgo.

For he was gazing at the Greek soldiers encircling the Pergama citadel here fleeing, the Trojan youth pursuing them, there crested Achilles pressing the Phrygians in his chariot.  In another picture through his tears he recognizes Rhesus' white tents, in their first sleep betrayed by Tydeus' son [Diomedes] laying waste with great slaughter, diverting the fiery horses to his camp before they could eat of the Trojan pasture or drink from the Xanthus.  In another part Troilus having lost his arms, the unhappy boy being unequal to Achilles in battle, knocked out of his chariot, the horses dragging him face-up by both his long hair and neck and his spear makes a mark through the earth.  Meanwhile to the temple of unjust Pallas the Trojan women were going with their hair disheveled and they were carrying a robe as supplicants, sad and beating their breasts with the palms of their hands; the goddess was turned away, holding her eyes fixed on the ground.  Three times around the walls of Troy Achilles had dragged Hector's lifeless body and he was selling it for gold to Priam.  Then indeed Aeneas gave an enormous groan from the bottom of his heart, when he viewed the spoils, the chariot, and the corpse of his friend himself, and Priam, extending his unarmed hands.  He recognized also himself fighting against the Greek leaders and he recognized the battle line of the easterners and black Memnon's arms.  Penthesilea, in the midst leading an army of Amazons in the thousands with their crescent-shaped shields, raging in her eagerness for war, fastening a golden girdle beneath her exposed breasts, and although a girl she dared to fight with men, a warrior-woman.

So many stories in so few lines... and now for the bridge to the next scene, which will be posted later in the week:

Haec dum Dardanio Aeneae miranda videntur,
dum stupet, obtutuque haeret defixus in uno,
regina ad templum, forma pulcherrima Dido,
incessit magna iuvenum stipante caterva.
Qualis in Eurotae ripis aut per iuga Cynthi
exercet Diana choros, quam mille secutae
hinc atque hinc glomerantur oreades; illa pharetram
fert umero, gradiensque deas supereminet omnis:
Latonae tacitum pertemptant gaudia pectus:
talis erat Dido, talem se laeta ferebat
per medios, instans operi regnisque futuris.
Tum foribus divae, media testudine templi,
saepta armis, solioque alte subnixa resedit.
Iura dabat legesque viris, operumque laborem
partibus aequabat iustis, aut sorte trahebat:
cum subito Aeneas concursu accedere magno
Anthea Sergestumque videt fortemque Cloanthum,
Teucrorumque alios, ater quos aequore turbo
dispulerat penitusque alias avexerat oras.
Obstipuit simul ipse simul perculsus Achates
laetitiaque metuque; avidi coniungere dextras
ardebant; sed res animos incognita turbat.
Dissimulant, et nube cava speculantur amicti,
quae fortuna viris, classem quo litore linquant,
quid veniant; cunctis nam lecti navibus ibant,
orantes veniam, et templum clamore petebant. 

And while the Trojan Aeneas was stupefied,  clinging to one spot in a fixed gaze, the queen marched to the Temple, the beautiful body of Dido, thronged by a great crowd of young men.  Such as Diana on Eurotas' banks or the ridge of Cynthus where she trains her chorus, here and there a thousand mountain nymphs are gathering around her from behind; she bears her quiver on her shoulder and proceeding she towers above all the other goddesses (joy strike the quiet heart of Latona):  such was Dido, she was bearing such delight in herself amongst the men urging on the project and the future kingdom.  Then at the gates of the shrine, under the dome of the temple, hedged in by guards and resting on the high throne she sat.  She was giving justice and laws to the men, and she was equalizing the workloads into fair shares or by drawing lots:  when Aeneas suddenly saw approaching with a great crowd Antheas and Sergestus and brave Cloanthus and the other Trojans, whom the black storm had scattered on the sea and had borne away to entirely different shores.  And Aeneas himself stood agape, and Achates struck by joy and fear; they were eager to join hands; but uncertain of their spirits and wrapped in the hollow cloud they are watching what the fortune of their men would be, which shore they left their ships, why they came; for the men were gathered from the entire fleet seeking favor and in the midst of shouting they were heading for the temple.

Here is a fitting pause for the moment.  This is a bit rougher than the preceding passage, but there is a palpable sense of joy in these verses.  The next section will deal with Dido's reaction to their pleas and what follows afterward.

Graecum est; non legitur

Sample of something that arrived in the mail today.  Next year, I plan on learning how to read this, because that's what I do:

μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος
οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί' Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε' ἔθηκε,
πολλὰς δ' ἰφθίμους ψυχὰς Ἄϊδι προί̈αψεν
ἡρώων, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἑλώρια τεῦχε κύνεσσιν
οἰωνοῖσί τε πᾶσι, Διὸς δ' ἐτελείετο βουλή,
ἐξ οὗ δὴ τὰ πρῶτα διαστήτην ἐρίσαντε
Ἀτρεί̈δης τε ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν καὶ δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς.
τίς τ' ἄρ σφωε θεῶν ἔριδι ξυνέηκε μάχεσθαι;
Λητοῦς καὶ Διὸς υἱός: ὃ γὰρ βασιλῆϊ χολωθεὶς
νοῦσον ἀνὰ στρατὸν ὄρσε κακήν, ὀλέκοντο δὲ λαοί,
οὕνεκα τὸν Χρύσην ἠτίμασεν ἀρητῆρα
Ἀτρεί̈δης: ὃ γὰρ ἦλθε θοὰς ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν
λυσόμενός τε θύγατρα φέρων τ' ἀπερείσι' ἄποινα,
στέμματ' ἔχων ἐν χερσὶν ἑκηβόλου Ἀπόλλωνος
χρυσέῳ ἀνὰ σκήπτρῳ, καὶ λίσσετο πάντας Ἀχαιούς,
Ἀτρεί̈δα δὲ μάλιστα δύω, κοσμήτορε λαῶν:
Ἀτρεί̈δαι τε καὶ ἄλλοι ἐϋκνήμιδες Ἀχαιοί,
ὑμῖν μὲν θεοὶ δοῖεν Ὀλύμπια δώματ' ἔχοντες
ἐκπέρσαι Πριάμοιο πόλιν, εὖ δ' οἴκαδ' ἱκέσθαι:
παῖδα δ' ἐμοὶ λύσαιτε φίλην, τὰ δ' ἄποινα δέχεσθαι,
ἁζόμενοι Διὸς υἱὸν ἑκηβόλον Ἀπόλλωνα.
ἔνθ' ἄλλοι μὲν πάντες ἐπευφήμησαν Ἀχαιοὶ
αἰδεῖσθαί θ' ἱερῆα καὶ ἀγλαὰ δέχθαι ἄποινα:
ἀλλ' οὐκ Ἀτρεί̈δῃ Ἀγαμέμνονι ἥνδανε θυμῷ,
ἀλλὰ κακῶς ἀφίει, κρατερὸν δ' ἐπὶ μῦθον ἔτελλε:
μή σε γέρον κοίλῃσιν ἐγὼ παρὰ νηυσὶ κιχείω
ἢ νῦν δηθύνοντ' ἢ ὕστερον αὖτις ἰόντα,
μή νύ τοι οὐ χραίσμῃ σκῆπτρον καὶ στέμμα θεοῖο:
τὴν δ' ἐγὼ οὐ λύσω: πρίν μιν καὶ γῆρας ἔπεισιν
ἡμετέρῳ ἐνὶ οἴκῳ ἐν Ἄργεϊ τηλόθι πάτρης
ἱστὸν ἐποιχομένην καὶ ἐμὸν λέχος ἀντιόωσαν:
ἀλλ' ἴθι μή μ' ἐρέθιζε σαώτερος ὥς κε νέηαι.
ὣς ἔφατ', ἔδεισεν δ' ὃ γέρων καὶ ἐπείθετο μύθῳ:
βῆ δ' ἀκέων παρὰ θῖνα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης:
πολλὰ δ' ἔπειτ' ἀπάνευθε κιὼν ἠρᾶθ' ὃ γεραιὸς
Ἀπόλλωνι ἄνακτι, τὸν ἠύ̈κομος τέκε Λητώ:
κλῦθί μευ ἀργυρότοξ', ὃς Χρύσην ἀμφιβέβηκας
Κίλλάν τε ζαθέην Τενέδοιό τε ἶφι ἀνάσσεις,
Σμινθεῦ εἴ ποτέ τοι χαρίεντ' ἐπὶ νηὸν ἔρεψα,
ἢ εἰ δή ποτέ τοι κατὰ πίονα μηρί' ἔκηα
ταύρων ἠδ' αἰγῶν, τὸ δέ μοι κρήηνον ἐέλδωρ:
τίσειαν Δαναοὶ ἐμὰ δάκρυα σοῖσι βέλεσσιν.
ὣς ἔφατ' εὐχόμενος, τοῦ δ' ἔκλυε Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων,
βῆ δὲ κατ' Οὐλύμποιο καρήνων χωόμενος κῆρ,
τόξ' ὤμοισιν ἔχων ἀμφηρεφέα τε φαρέτρην:
ἔκλαγξαν δ' ἄρ' ὀϊστοὶ ἐπ' ὤμων χωομένοιο,
αὐτοῦ κινηθέντος: ὃ δ' ἤϊε νυκτὶ ἐοικώς.
ἕζετ' ἔπειτ' ἀπάνευθε νεῶν, μετὰ δ' ἰὸν ἕηκε:
δεινὴ δὲ κλαγγὴ γένετ' ἀργυρέοιο βιοῖο:
οὐρῆας μὲν πρῶτον ἐπῴχετο καὶ κύνας ἀργούς,
αὐτὰρ ἔπειτ' αὐτοῖσι βέλος ἐχεπευκὲς ἐφιεὶς
βάλλ': αἰεὶ δὲ πυραὶ νεκύων καίοντο θαμειαί.
ἐννῆμαρ μὲν ἀνὰ στρατὸν ᾤχετο κῆλα θεοῖο,
τῇ δεκάτῃ δ' ἀγορὴν δὲ καλέσσατο λαὸν Ἀχιλλεύς:
τῷ γὰρ ἐπὶ φρεσὶ θῆκε θεὰ λευκώλενος Ἥρη:
κήδετο γὰρ Δαναῶν, ὅτι ῥα θνήσκοντας ὁρᾶτο.
οἳ δ' ἐπεὶ οὖν ἤγερθεν ὁμηγερέες τε γένοντο,
τοῖσι δ' ἀνιστάμενος μετέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς:
Ἀτρεί̈δη νῦν ἄμμε παλιμπλαγχθέντας ὀί̈ω
ἂψ ἀπονοστήσειν, εἴ κεν θάνατόν γε φύγοιμεν,
εἰ δὴ ὁμοῦ πόλεμός τε δαμᾷ καὶ λοιμὸς Ἀχαιούς:
ἀλλ' ἄγε δή τινα μάντιν ἐρείομεν ἢ ἱερῆα
ἢ καὶ ὀνειροπόλον, καὶ γάρ τ' ὄναρ ἐκ Διός ἐστιν,
ὅς κ' εἴποι ὅ τι τόσσον ἐχώσατο Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων,
εἴτ' ἄρ' ὅ γ' εὐχωλῆς ἐπιμέμφεται ἠδ' ἑκατόμβης,
αἴ κέν πως ἀρνῶν κνίσης αἰγῶν τε τελείων
βούλεται ἀντιάσας ἡμῖν ἀπὸ λοιγὸν ἀμῦναι.
ἤτοι ὅ γ' ὣς εἰπὼν κατ' ἄρ' ἕζετο: τοῖσι δ' ἀνέστη
Κάλχας Θεστορίδης οἰωνοπόλων ὄχ' ἄριστος,
ὃς ᾔδη τά τ' ἐόντα τά τ' ἐσσόμενα πρό τ' ἐόντα,
καὶ νήεσσ' ἡγήσατ' Ἀχαιῶν Ἴλιον εἴσω
ἣν διὰ μαντοσύνην, τήν οἱ πόρε Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων:
ὅ σφιν ἐὺ φρονέων ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπεν:
ὦ Ἀχιλεῦ κέλεαί με Διὶ̈ φίλε μυθήσασθαι
μῆνιν Ἀπόλλωνος ἑκατηβελέταο ἄνακτος:
τοὶ γὰρ ἐγὼν ἐρέω: σὺ δὲ σύνθεο καί μοι ὄμοσσον
ἦ μέν μοι πρόφρων ἔπεσιν καὶ χερσὶν ἀρήξειν:
ἦ γὰρ ὀί̈ομαι ἄνδρα χολωσέμεν, ὃς μέγα πάντων
Ἀργείων κρατέει καί οἱ πείθονται Ἀχαιοί:
κρείσσων γὰρ βασιλεὺς ὅτε χώσεται ἀνδρὶ χέρηϊ:
εἴ περ γάρ τε χόλον γε καὶ αὐτῆμαρ καταπέψῃ,
ἀλλά τε καὶ μετόπισθεν ἔχει κότον, ὄφρα τελέσσῃ,
ἐν στήθεσσιν ἑοῖσι: σὺ δὲ φράσαι εἴ με σαώσεις.

I'm beginning to have social media fatigue

For the past year, I have worked two jobs, spending upwards of 14 hours away from my house.  I don't have much time for social media, especially Twitter, these days, and lately, I've come to realize that this is a good thing.  I am by nature an extrovert, someone who gets energized by the presence of others, and while for a time interacting online with others provided some enjoyment, lately such interactions feel hollow, artificial in nature.  Maybe it's because I spend a lot of time with youth and adults around my age, getting to know them in full, seeing what humor they have, what their likes and dislikes are, what makes them the people that they are.

When I was younger, I was a bit more judgmental than I hope I have become today.  Coming to know adolescents who have given up hope because of how they grew up and/or what they did, it is hard to view them as anything other than human.  I have seen teens guilty of aggravated assault break down in tears when their parents had to leave after a weekend visit.  I have read of those who, after leaving treatment, committed suicide because they had no faith in themselves, no hope in the future to come.  I have also seen some of these same people stick up for each other, smile when someone would just stop for a moment to say, "I hope you have a good rest of the day."  I may be a teacher, but I think some of my students taught me more about humanity than I ever taught them about human civilizations.

This was especially present on my mind on Friday when a student of mine was helping me after class.  I don't recall exactly why I wanted to ask this, but I asked him if any of his other teachers had wished him a good day after class.  He said no, they hadn't.  This has troubled me for a while.  Not because I think the others wished him harm, but rather because of the lost opportunity to wish another human being well.  Sometimes, it just takes only a singular moment of good will for others to have peace and serenity kindled within them and perhaps to share that spark with others.

Yet there I go, using that troublesome word:  "others."  In a school setting, it is difficult enough to convince students to see a common humanity within each of us.  It is especially difficult in a larger society, where we store up hurts and grievances, real and feigned alike.  How we deal with said grievances tells us a lot about our characters.  The most difficult thing to do, what the Christ taught before he sacrificed himself, is to turn the other cheek, to walk another mile if forced to go one for another.  Yet when practiced, even in part, it is powerful.  I think back to last October and listening to Rep. John Lewis talk about his experiences in the Nashville Sit-Ins of 1960 and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, I was struck by the humbleness in his voice, the forgiveness implicit in the words spoken and written in the graphic novel of his early life that he co-wrote with a staffer.  He, along with Martin Luther King, Jr., Gandhi, and others less famous, are people whose lives fascinate me because of their ability to see the best in humanity while the worst of it was in full opposition to them.

Yet many others do not hold to their views.  It is understandable; almost impossible not to slip up and vent anger and perhaps ephemeral hatred along the way.  If errare humanum est is so true of us when it comes to treating others unfairly, then certainly the second half of Seneca's quote, sed in errare perseverare diabolicum, certainly applies to those of us who persist in "othering" people beyond the moment of hurt and anger.  I try to avoid giving in to those negative emotions and am not always successful, but I have discovered that when I do manage to see the good in others and express it, that things do improve.

However, it is very difficult to see people's full humanities online.  140 characters or less or a cute .gif meme rarely display the breadth or depth of a person's soul.  Therefore, when the majority of what I encounter these days from some people (not saying that they are "right" or "wrong" to feel this) is anger and frustration, emotions vented without a sense of reconciliation being possible, it troubles me.  As I noted above, a lot of times, there are valid justifications for these emotions - after all, there are many people who do hurtful things.  But when my professional life often revolves around how to reconcile people in order to do more effective instruction, it is difficult after a while to comprehend all that I read on social media.  All of these outrages, whether they be large-scale or just molehills puffed up to be the size of mountains, drain me after a while.  There are moments where I'll be sympathetic, but then I find myself wanting to see something else, something better from those outraged, to prove that they are superior to their opponents.

Sometimes, I find something worth considering, but often I just find myself saddened by all of this dirty laundry being aired.  Some people end up being demonized, with their worst sides alone being presented for consideration.  I am not innocent of that, alas, and it is something that troubles me on occasion.  Lately, however, I just find myself more and more numb to all of this, finding it more and more difficult to give a care to any of this.  Perhaps the problem is that 1/3 of my Twitter follows are SF fans who devote the majority of their time to focusing on what is wrong with others and their views.  Perhaps I just need to spend even less time focusing on what they say and spend more time thinking about what I can share that will provide something of interest, if not joy, to those few who read my thoughts on poetry and (soon) war literature.  It is past tend for us to tend to our gardens.

February 2014 Reads

Not much to list here, as February proved to be my worst reading month when it comes to the number of books read.  Only 7 were read in full this past month, mostly because the past three weeks or so have been devoted to working on translating out, either in passages or lists of words to learn, sections from three books:  Vergil, Aeneid (Latin; see my recent series of old translation notes on Book I); Liviu Rebreanu, Pădurea spânzuraților (The Forest of the Hanged; Romanian); and Miroslav Krleža, Hrvatski Bog Mars (The Croatian God Mars; Croatian).  I expect it'll take several more weeks for the Vergil project to complete its first stage (I have 316 more lines of Book I to post, some of which will require me to do new translation work in order to fill in the gaps in my 1994 notes) and a few months at least for the other two, as I alternate between the two, going 1-4 pages/day.

I do read some outside of these, but not much (only today, after beginning it nearly four weeks ago, I finished reading the Spanish translation of Haruki Murakami's most recent novel, set to come out this summer in English as Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage) and I won't be surprised if March ends up being as short as February for completed reads.  That being said, I suspect that in a month or two, I'll be reading the above-listed books much more quickly once I've mastered more of the vocabulary (I've already improved full word-for-word understanding, as opposed to getting the gist of it, by nearly double over the past two weeks) and that I'll be back on track with my yearly goals.  Now for what I did read:

33  Chang-rae Lee, On Such a Full Sea (I gave some of my thoughts on the book in a post I wrote critiquing some of Ursula Le Guin's comments on it, but I did think it was a solid to very good book)

34  Marcel Theroux, Strange Bodies (already reviewed)

35  Denise Duhamel, Blowout (poetry; very good)

36  Molly Antopol, The UnAmericans (short fiction collection; excellent)

37  Jeff VanderMeer, Annihilation (already reviewed)

38  Ishmael Beah, Radiance of Tomorrow (might review in near future)

39  Gabriel García Márquez, La mala hora (re-read; Spanish; already reviewed)


Yearly Goals:

Spanish:  16/50 (ahead of pace; 1 read in February)

Portuguese:  4/50 (behind pace by 4; 0 read in February)

French:  5/50 (behind pace by 3; 0 read in February)

Italian:  7/50 (behind pace by 1; 0 read in February)

Women writers:  13/39 (33%; behind goal by 2%; 2 read this month)

For comparison's sake:  English:  6 read in 2014 to date.  Counting book finished today, 15% of books completed so far in 2014 have been read in English.  Of those 6, 5 were released in the US in 2014.

Aeneid translation notes, Book I, lines 372-440

In my last post, I paused just before Aeneas responds to his disguised mother, Venus, about his travails.  These lines cover not just his response to her, but also his initial trip into the newly-founded city of Carthage.  Near the end of this section is one of Vergil's most famous lines, a metaphor concerning the habits of summer bees.  I remember well my professor spending a lot of time one class session on this and hopefully it will resonate with some readers here as well.

'O dea, si prima repetens ab origine pergam,
et vacet annalis nostrorum audire laborum,
ante diem clauso componat Vesper Olympo.
Nos Troia antiqua, si vestras forte per auris
Troiae nomen iit, diversa per aequora vectos
forte sua Libycis tempestas adpulit oris.
Sum pius Aeneas, raptos qui ex hoste Penates
classe veho mecum, fama super aethera notus.
Italiam quaero patriam et genus ab Iove summo.
Bis denis Phrygium conscendi navibus aequor,
matre dea monstrante viam, data fata secutus;
vix septem convolsae undis Euroque supersunt.
Ipse ignotus, egens, Libyae deserta peragro,
Europa atque Asia pulsus.' Nec plura querentem
passa Venus medio sic interfata dolore est: 

"O goddess, if first I repeat from the beginning our tale and if you have the leisure to listen to our hardships, sooner would Vester end the day with the doors of Olympus closed.  We come from the ancient city of Troy, if you per chance have heard of the name of Troy, and a storm has pushed us to the shores of Libya.  I am pious Aeneas, who carried my Penates snatched from my enemies and bore them with me via ship, known by reputation beyond the sky.  I am hunting for the Italian homeland and the race of people descended from Jupiter.  I set sail of the sea near Troy with twenty ships, my goddess mother pointing the way, following the given fates; barely seven survived, beaten down by the winds and sun.  I myself unknown, in need, wandering through the desert of Libya, driven from Europe and Asia."  Venus enduring his complaining no more interrupted him in the middle of his complaining.

Outside of changing the wording slightly to correct a few careless manuscript errors, this is the same as what I wrote twenty years ago.

'Quisquis es, haud, credo, invisus caelestibus auras
vitalis carpis, Tyriam qui adveneris urbem.
Perge modo, atque hinc te reginae ad limina perfer,
Namque tibi reduces socios classemque relatam
nuntio, et in tutum versis aquilonibus actam,
ni frustra augurium vani docuere parentes.
Aspice bis senos laetantis agmine cycnos,
aetheria quos lapsa plaga Iovis ales aperto
turbabat caelo; nunc terras ordine longo
aut capere, aut captas iam despectare videntur:
ut reduces illi ludunt stridentibus alis,
et coetu cinxere polum, cantusque dedere,
haud aliter puppesque tuae pubesque tuorum
aut portum tenet aut pleno subit ostia velo.
Perge modo, et, qua te ducit via, dirige gressum.'

"Whoever you are, by no means, I believe, that the gods hate you as you still breathe, you who are approaching the Tyrian city.  Take yourself from here to the threshold of the queen.  For I announce to you that your comrades are brought back and your fleet restored, driven into safety by the reversed winds unless in my vain my proud parents taught me augury.  Look over there, twelve swans rejoicing as a flock, whom the bird of Jupiter having swooped down in the heavens was throwing into confusion in the open sky; now in a long line they are seen either to seize the land or to look down now on the lands once seen:  as the restored swans mock the rustling birds and a company encircles the sky and gives song, not otherwise both your ships and your young men either are in port or have entered the harbor under sail.  Now proceed and, where the road leads you, guide your step."

 If I were even more literal, I would have said "twice six swans," but as it stands, I like the avian metaphor employed here.

Dixit, et avertens rosea cervice refulsit,
ambrosiaeque comae divinum vertice odorem
spiravere, pedes vestis defluxit ad imos,
et vera incessu patuit dea. Ille ubi matrem
adgnovit, tali fugientem est voce secutus:
'Quid natum totiens, crudelis tu quoque, falsis
ludis imaginibus? Cur dextrae iungere dextram
non datur, ac veras audire et reddere voces?' 
Talibus incusat, gressumque ad moenia tendit:
at Venus obscuro gradientes aere saepsit,
et multo nebulae circum dea fudit amictu,
cernere ne quis eos, neu quis contingere posset,
molirive moram, aut veniendi poscere causas.
Ipsa Paphum sublimis abit, sedesque revisit
laeta suas, ubi templum illi, centumque Sabaeo
ture calent arae, sertisque recentibus halant.

Venus said this and turning aside her rosy neck shined, her hair on her head exhaling the ambrosial perfume; the robe flowed down to bellow at her feet; and laid open the true walk of a goddess.  Aeneas when he recognized his mother was fleeing said the following words:  "Why do you so often tease your son with false disguises?  Why is it not allowed for us to join hands and hear and tell the truth?"  Aeneas said this chiding his mother but to the walls of Carthage he went.  However Venus inclosed the walking Aeneas and Achates in a dark mist, and the goddess surrounded them in a robe of many clouds by her supernatural power, so that no one could discern them or touch them or make delay or to demand the reasons of their coming.  Venus herself went aloft to Paphos and revisited the happy seat of hers, where her temple was, and one hundred altars burning Sabean incense breathed forth fresh garlands.

While my old translation lacks elegance at times, there are times that I wish I could see those who have pretensions of writing "epic fantasy" would at least learn to use some of the rhetoric that Vergil employs here.  The mist isn't quite as clichéd as I would have thought based on encountering it elsewhere.  Maybe it's just because it is kept to just a few descriptive lines and isn't laborious described over multiple sentences.

Corripuere viam interea, qua semita monstrat.
Iamque ascendebant collem, qui plurimus urbi
imminet, adversasque adspectat desuper arces.
Miratur molem Aeneas, magalia quondam,
miratur portas strepitumque et strata viarum.
Instant ardentes Tyrii pars ducere muros,
molirique arcem et manibus subvolvere saxa,
pars optare locum tecto et concludere sulco.
[Iura magistratusque legunt sanctumque senatum;]
hic portus alii effodiunt; hic alta theatris
fundamenta locant alii, immanisque columnas
rupibus excidunt, scaenis decora alta futuris.
Qualis apes aestate nova per florea rura
exercet sub sole labor, cum gentis adultos
educunt fetus, aut cum liquentia mella
stipant et dulci distendunt nectare cellas,
aut onera accipiunt venientum, aut agmine facto
ignavom fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent:
fervet opus, redolentque thymo fragrantia mella.
'O fortunati, quorum iam moenia surgunt!'
Aeneas ait, et fastigia suspicit urbis.
Infert se saeptus nebula, mirabile dictu,
per medios, miscetque viris, neque cernitur ulli.

Meanwhile Aeneas and Achates hurried along their way, which a path pointed out.  Now they were ascending the hill, part of which overhangs the city, and from above the towers faced opposite.  Aeneas admiring the structure of the city, formerly huts, admiring the gates and pavement and the din of the street.  Eagerly the Tyrians pressed on; part to extend the walls and by their hands rolling up the stones to make the citadel, part to choose the laws, and they chose magistrates and the revered Senate.  Here some were digging the harbor; there others established the deep foundations of a theater, a high beauty for the future stage.  Just as hard work occupies bees in the beginning of summer under the sun in the flowery fields, when the adults lead forth their swarm, or stuff the cells with liquid honey and sweet nectar they distend them, or they receive the loads of those coming in or in battle formation made they prevent the lazy drones from the hive:  the work glows and the honey smells of fragrent thyme.  "O fortunate ones, who now raise their walls!"  Aeneas went and looked up at the top of the city.  The inclosing cloud surrounding him, marvelous to say, through the midst of men, and he mingles with them, not seen by any.

 Sometimes I am saddened by the realization that such extended metaphors and similes are held in low esteem in contemporary writing, because as I typed out (and edited for clarity) the bee section, I found myself visualizing the bustling new town rising up in a montage of movement.  Yet beyond visualizing this, I could smell the honey and feel the movements to and fro.  This is simply a very vividly described comparison and it is something that makes me enjoy Vergil's poetry beyond whatever is being described in its plot.

The next passage, to be posted either tomorrow or sometime during the week, will shift to a retelling of key scenes from the Trojan War.  The next 50 lines or so should be of interest to those who (infelix!) are not as inclined as I am to enjoy passages such as the one translated above.  And with this post, I've now posted a rough prose translation (over 80% being directly taken from my 1994 course notes and the rest either edits or filling in the gaps of those notes) of a little over half of Book I and its 756 lines.  At this rate, I might finish before month's end and if I'm insane, I'll do a fresh translation (the course didn't involve translating much beyond sections of Books IV and VI) of the other books over a period of years.  Might as well showcase a hobby of mine, no?