Binsey Poplars

Binsey Poplars

Gerard Manley Hopkins

The poplars were felled in 1879. My Latin..
Binsey Poplars
My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled, Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun, All felled, felled, are all felled; Of a fresh and following folded rank Not spared, not one That dandled a sandalled Shadow that swam or sank On meadow & river & wind-wandering weed-winding bank. O if we but knew what we do When we delve or hew — Hack and rack the growing green! Since country is so tender To touch, her being só slender, That, like this sleek and seeing ball But a prick will make no eye at all, Where we, even where we mean To mend her we end her, When we hew or delve: After-comers cannot guess the beauty been. Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve Strokes of havoc unselve The sweet especial scene, Rural scene, a rural scene, Sweet especial rural scene. [Campaigning against a housing estate that would have scarred the view of Highgate from Hampstead Heath, I wrote: 'Witan, the ancient council. Hurst, a wooded hill. Not since the Binsey Poplars, those Hopkins-harrowing topplers, Fell or were felled by the fiend of eld that wishes old England ill, And the trains stopped stopping at Adlestrop, and at Grantchester time stood still, Has anything worse been heard in verse, including, if you will, The nefarious, unhilarious, Dissolution of Halnaker Mill.' ...]
Binsey Poplars
o quantum amatae vos mihi populi! Titana textis frondibus obrui ~~vidi refrenarique in auris; ~~~~praecipites cecidistis omnes, haud una sospes caede trucissima. intactus ordo duplicis agminis ~~occisus, umbrosis puellas ~~~~vel pueros recreare alutis gnarus, per agros, flumina, flamina, ventos vagantes, litora, harundines ~~per prata procurvas, per undas ~~~~nantibus his, aliis caducis. o stirps molesti nescia criminis, prompta ad fodendum, scindere promptior! ~~~torquemus increscens, virescens ~~~~ dilaniamus, in omne damnum. rus tenue tactu, rus tenerum ambitu! levis videndi fixus acu globus: ~~ instanter, heu! non est ocellus. ~~~~sic etiam reparare nisi pala et securi, deruimus modo saltus amoenos : nesciet advena ~~quantum venustatis fuisset: ~~~~undecimus decimusve tantum stragi sat ictus: conficit eripit prospectum agrestem, gaudia rustica ~~dejecta: prospectum placentem ~~~~destruit egregium, placentem.
Classical Verse Challenge for April 2024.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Hibernia nostra

Let Erin Remember

My Latin
Let Erin Remember
Let Erin remember the days of old, Ere her faithless sons betray'd her; When Malachi wore the collar of gold, Which he won from her proud invader, When her kings, with standard of green unfurl'd, Led the Red-Branch Knights to danger! Ere the emerald gem of the western world Was set in the crown of a stranger. On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays, When the clear cold eve's declining, He sees the round towers of other days In the wave beneath him shining: Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime, Catch a glimpse of the days that are over; Thus, sighing, look through the waves of time, For the long-faded glories they cover.
Hibernia nostra
tempora lapsa diu memorentur, Hibernia nostra, queis te tradiderat nondum tua perfida proles. supremum regem signaverat aurea torques, invasore truci victorem in lite superbo: tempore quo viridi regum vexilla colore audendis equites rutilos duxere periclis, Hesperiae necdum Smaragditia gemma iacebat capta per externos, aliena inserta corona. est lacus insignis: ripa piscator in alta, solis ad occasum deerrans per frigus et umbram, viderit antiquas torres praestare rotundas, surgere fulgentes et aqua lucere profunda. sic etiam referent sublimia somnia menti grandia tempora, lapsorum simulacra dierum: vanescunt refugis aevis moribunda per undas, in queis iamdudum se pristina gloria condit.
Sung by Michael O’Duffy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtPsezf6qn0

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

DO RE MI

DO RE MI

English by Oscar Hammerstein II from 'The Sound of Music'. Latin by me.
DO RE MI
Let's start at the very beginning A very good place to start When you read, you begin with A-B-C When you sing, you begin with Do-Re-Mi Do, a deer, a female deer Re, a drop of golden sun Mi, a name, I call myself Fa, a long, long way to run So, a needle pulling thread La, a note to follow So Ti, a drink with jam and bread That will bring us back to Do. When you know the notes to sing You can sing most anything.
DO RE MI
incipiamus in incepto: valet optima origo. ~~alpha et beta legis, mox quoque gamma notas. imus cerva gradus, muliebris bestia, chordis; ~~aureolo sequitur guttula sole, iubar. tum mihi me nomen, quo me revocante vocabor; ~~currere fas longe, cui via longa, procul. dein sutoris acus, trahitur cum sutile filum; ~~excipiens caecus proximus instat acum. dein thea adest, pani coctis cum fructibus apta; ~~cerva iterum inventa conficiemus iter. tempore quo disces septem discrimina vocum, ~~omnia quam sollers carmina paene canes!
in pratis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=drnBMAEA3AM in stratis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLm07s8fnzM

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

Bethany W Pope at the gym: double acrostic

Timothy Adès

Bethany W. Pope, poet who worked in a Swindon cinema, now teaching in China, keeps very fit, and is good at fencing. This is one of several poems about poets at the gym. The others are by George Szirtes, each written in the poet's own style.
Bethany W Pope at the gym: double acrostic
At last I’ve done my cinematic job, Doled out the popcorn, smiled at rudery, Obliged the arrogant, survived the snob, Unplugged the hot projector. I am free. Boots hide my kneecaps, and my black beret Looks cute to louts, to whom I’ll say ‘Unh-unh’, Easing my strength and love between the A And Z of Swindon life, till home is won. Come, haul my heavy sled, abusive guy! Ratchet my stepper up, the speed’s too slow, Or raise my press-up bar insanely high. P- Sychology and muscles: way to go! Touché! Lunge, slash! This is the life for me. P- Irate in space – that’s what I’d love to be. (Can’t count! The parodist’s catastrophe!!!!!)

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Climate Crisis Eleven-Line Poem

Timothy Adès

Climate Crisis Eleven-Line Poem
***Climate crisis correct course climate crisis correct course *** Climate crisis convulse customs crops continents Cancel cars cancel commuting convert conurbations Control corporations crack carbon consolidate coasts Cut coal cut cattle cut consumption cut commerce Free food focus farms forge friendships forget fashion Fortify forests finish felling forestall financiers Peace priority preach persistently persuade politicians Abandon airports axe airlines adapt activities Save sacred seas stop spoliation sustain sustain ***Go green get good growth give give give give give***

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The hard-boiled egg

El huevo duro

Victor Manuel Mendiola (1954)

El huevo duro
De la cestilla tomo el frágil huevo. Sobre la mano pesa su redondo blanco sin peso - tan callado y hondo, tan oro y ogro como un medioevo. Con la cuchara hasta el perol lo llevo y el tiempo mido; en el hervor lo escondo y miro cómo el miedo baja al fondo; ser viejo y duro es un febril renuevo. Todo es la blanca forma del espanto. Atrapada la nunca picadura y el gallo a la mazmorra reducido, es el huevo la nota de otro canto y oro sin ogro guarda la armadura; mi cena, el duro huevo envejecido.
The hard-boiled egg
I take the frail egg from the woven wicker. Its weight is on my hand, its base is round, it’s white and weightless, taciturn, profound, it’s medieval, it is gold and ogre. It’s in the spoon – the pan is on the cooker; I plunge it in the fury and the sound, the timer’s on; timidity is drowned; it’s old and hard with new and febrile vigour. The whole thing has the pure white form of terror. The puncturing’s trapped in the never-never, the cockerel is humbled in the slammer: the egg’s not in his song, it’s in some other. The gold is tough enough without the ogre; the egg, now old and hardened, is my supper.
Published in Shearsman magazine.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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‘What spot do you aim at?’ by Wystan Hugh

Oh where are you going

W.H. Auden (1907-73)

Oh where are you going
"O where are you going?" said reader to rider, "That valley is fatal where furnaces burn, Yonder's the midden whose odours will madden, That gap is the grave where the tall return." "O do you imagine," said fearer to farer, "That dusk will delay on your path to the pass, Your diligent looking discover the lacking, Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?" "O what was that bird," said horror to hearer, "Did you see that shape in the twisted trees? Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly, The spot on your skin is a shocking disease." "Out of this house"---said rider to reader, "Yours never will"---said farer to fearer "They're looking for you"---said hearer to horror, As he left them there, as he left them there.
‘What spot do you aim at?’ by Wystan Hugh
‘What spot do you aim at?’ said bookworm to backload: That low strip is fatal as kilns hotly burn, It’s got a big dunghill, its odour’s a lungful, That gap is a tomb from which lofty folk turn.’ ‘O is it your notion’ said pallid to payload, ‘That dusk will hold back on your path to yon pass, Your small-tooth-comb looking track down what is lacking, Your footfall go groping from gabbro to grass?’ ‘O what was that bird’ said to auditor awful, ‘Did you spot that form amid twigs twisting thick? At your back swiftly that thing’s coming softly, That spot on your skin dubs you horribly sick.’ ‘Out of this building’ said backload to bookworm, ‘Yours will not do it’ said payload to pallid, ‘You got you a manhunt,’ said auditor, 'awful.' Your man didn’t stay, your man didn’t stay.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Auden ipse scripsi

Oh where are you going

W.H. Auden (1907-73)

Oh where are you going
"O where are you going?" said reader to rider, "That valley is fatal where furnaces burn, Yonder's the midden whose odours will madden, That gap is the grave where the tall return." "O do you imagine," said fearer to farer, "That dusk will delay on your path to the pass, Your diligent looking discover the lacking, Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?" "O what was that bird," said horror to hearer, "Did you see that shape in the twisted trees? Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly, The spot on your skin is a shocking disease." "Out of this house"---said rider to reader, "Yours never will"---said farer to fearer "They're looking for you"---said hearer to horror, As he left them there, as he left them there.
Auden ipse scripsi
sic equiti loquitur lector: ‘quo vadere velles? ~~vallis enim vivis ignibus illa necat. est fimus, infesti qua te furiabit odores; ~~in spatio tumulus, qua redit altus, hiat.’ sic pavidus: ‘peregrine’ inquit ‘cito faucibus instans! ~~num tentant tenebrae mox moderare moras? num vigil invenies vacui vestigia visu? ~~num, si stant lapides, mulserit herba pedes?’ ‘qualis avis fuit, auditor?’ modo dixerat horror: ~~‘arboribus tortis nonne patebat avis? te sequitur pede pernici furtiva figura; ~~in cute gutta tua desidet, atra lues.’ lectori sed eques: ‘proficiscere, tecta relinquas.’ ~~‘nec tibi pes...’ pavido sic peregrinus ait. auditor: ‘peteris!’ petiturque, ut dixerat, horror. ~~ille ibi liquit eos, ille ibi liquit eos.
Auden’s voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFQjnqV_byA Ned Rorem’s music: https://www.newworldrecords.org/products/ned-rorem-evidence-of-things-not-seen See also my lipogram.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Children in Love

Les enfants qui s'aiment

Jacques Prévert (1900-77)

Les enfants qui s'aiment
Les enfants qui s'aiment s'embrassent debout Contre les portes de la nuit Et les passants qui passent les désignent du doigt Mais les enfants qui s'aiment Ne sont là pour personne Et c'est seulement leur ombre Qui tremble dans la nuit Excitant la rage des passants Leur rage, leur mépris, leurs rires et leur envie Les enfants qui s'aiment ne sont là pour personne Ils sont ailleurs bien plus loin que la nuit Bien plus haut que le jour Dans l'éblouissante clarté de leur premier amour.
Children in Love
Children in love are embracing Standing at the gates of night Passers-by pass, point a finger, But the children in love Aren’t there for anyone And it’s only their shadow That shakes in the night Exciting the fury of passers-by Their fury, hate, laughter and envy Children in love aren’t there for anyone They’re somewhere else, much further than night Much higher than day In the dazzling brightness of their first love.
Musique de Joseph Kosma… Juliette Gréco https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jaCE_A2DmVE Raymond Voyat https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJT7181m6Po Yves Montand https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efcdCNPqd1g Fabien Loris (cinéma) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMWb-jLBvyE Sans voix https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rIazXgplTw

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint

Soneto de la dulce queja

Federico García Lorca (1898-1936)

Soneto de la dulce queja
Tengo miedo a perder la maravilla de tus ojos de estatua y el acento que de noche me pone en la mejilla la solitaria rosa de tu aliento. Tengo pena de ser en esta orilla tronco sin ramas; y lo que más siento es no tener la flor, pulpa o arcilla, para el gusano de mi sufrimiento. Si tú eres el tesoro oculto mío, si eres mi cruz y mi dolor mojado, si soy el perro de tu señorío, no me dejes perder lo que he ganado y decora las aguas de tu río con hojas de mi otoño enajenado.
Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint
Let me not lose your wondrous eyes of marble, nor your voice that blows your breath, a solitary rose, between my teeth at pale moonrise. A stranded trunk without a shoot, dreading and greatly sorrowing, I have not clay nor flower nor fruit to feed my worm of suffering. Are you my secret treasury, my tears of pain, my cross? Am I the lapdog of your mastery? Let me not lose what I have gained: And let your river flow adorned with my sere leaves that fall estranged.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybZYsUIRuSE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAzF9seSQVk - 3'40"

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

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