The World Needs You

I love this. I think this should be printed and put up in every office cubicle. Or stuck to the inside of your wardrobe. But somewhere where you'll be able to see it every day.

A Christmas Story: Cookies and Milk

“Do you think I’ve lost some weight?” Nick asked, looking at himself in the hallway mirror. The green carpet beneath his feet was scuffed and threadbare in places. It was much, much older than the new, box-like house in which it now lay. “I’ve tried to cut down on sugar and carbs, you know. Only fat free milk as well.”

“Spot of brandy?” Bob, the younger of the two asked as he made his way from the kitchen to the spare-bedroom-study, past the living room where a boot was thrown through the glass of the TV. He didn’t ask.

“Why not? Boeing's long gone.”

They sat down in identical leather chairs in front of a fake fireplace with fake logs and flames. A small nativity scene stood on a shelf. Bob looked at it and smiled. “I’m glad to see you still have it.”

“Of course, not another in the world that can craft wood like that. And the paint? Perfect. Don’t see much of them anymore.”

The younger blushed. Though wrinkled, his face and eyes still held youth pent up inside. “Made another sheep,” he said and took a small, white, wooden sheep from his pocket. “You need a flock. The shepherds can’t just watch three sheep. And you need a few more angels. I’ll make them next year.”

Nativity Scene by Subhadip Mukherjee

“Thank you.” The old man placed it reverentially on the mantle with the others.

They sat in silence sipping their drinks.

“How’s life treating you?” Bob asked.

“As it does all old people, Bob,” the man said. “They don’t want you around anymore. No more letters. Small house. Lots of people. The neighbour’s kid cursed at me yesterday for moving too slow and called me fat.” He sighed. “Most are like that now. I prefer to stay here with my memories and thoughts.”

A dull thumping sounded from the house next door.

“And my own music. Not this noise.”

“The TV?”

“They had Santa selling some awful pre-cooked soya turkey dinner. Then he strutted around drunk as sailor on leave, in a nightclub, with what looked like teenagers. I couldn’t find the remote, so I chucked the nearest thing. Let’s just say I’ve not felt that good in years. Didn’t like the damn TV anyway.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I made a toy for my nephew. Wind up train. Built the whole thing by hand. Painted it. Made the tracks – a replica of the track outside town. Trees, people, buildings, you name it.”

“And?”

“He walked into the garage while I was busy. He laughed.” He took a swallow of brandy. “Later he and his friends set it alight. Apparently they wanted to see if painted wood burns faster than unpainted wood.”

“Did it?”

“The varnish wasn’t dry yet. It was like throwing a butt on dry grass.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Should’ve kept it in my room. The paint fumes just got too much.”

The older man grinned. “Ventilation’s the key, hey.”

Someone hammered on the front door.

The men looked at their watches. “Not four yet, he can wait.”

“I’m not getting in the car if he’s drunk.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, of course he’s drunk the useless –“

“O, say it. I’m thinking it too.”

Father Christmas image by The Graphics Fairy

“The sheep’s nice. I’m glad you brought it. Does look more real with more sheep. The donkey’s still my favourite, though. That hanging ear… the spitting image of old Daisy.”

“You know, my nephew asked me what the sheep was for,” he said.

“And?”

“I said for a nativity scene.”

“And?”

“He didn’t know what it was.”

“His parents?”

“Quite useless, the both of them.”

The knock on the door sounded again, loader this time.

“Not yet four. Anyway, we’re deaf old men.”

“Some cookies? Their home made.”

“Never say no to cookies and milk. Best time of the year for them as well.”

“And some music? We’ll have to put it loud if we want to hear it, what with being deaf and all…”

The eldest of the two turned the stereo on and a carol started to play.

The other went to the fridge to get the milk. It was filled with drinks and jelly shots.

“And this?”

“The neighbours didn’t have enough room in their house for all their liquor. They probably need it for the dry Christmas their having.” Neither of them laughed.

Bob ate another of the Pfefferneuse and took a gulp of milk while the hammering at the door continued. They turned the stereo up.

Come, they told me

“Funny how it’s suddenly two days of binge drinking. Or until the day after New Year’s if their livers last.”

Our finest gifts we bring

“And now all everyone’s wants is video games and expensive gadgets. Nobody even wishes anymore. Everything’s a have-to-have. Do you remember the gifts we made?”

So to honour Him

“And the music. And the lights. The joy of the children’s faces? Now their all greedy little buggers.”

I have no gift to bring

“And that feeling of peace when you walk into the church? That could calm your heart for another year, knowing you’re safe.”

Shall I play for you

“And now?” He didn’t have to say anything. They knew.

There was knocking again. “I’m leaving if you don’t come out now!”

Bob took another two Pfefferneuse and dipped them in the milk.

The ox and lamb kept time

“Do you think they’ll ever find the houses, Nick?”

I played my drum for Him

“No. Never. We made sure of that. Nobody will look there anyway. The whole story was a good idea after all, especially the bit about the elves.”

I played my best for Him

“Humph! Stupid Google Earth, it’s the North Pole! Who goes and searches the North Pole!”

Then He smiled at me

“More milk? There’s another tin Pfefferneuse here somewhere.”

Artwork from Illuminated Manuscript

*Lyrics taken from "Carol of the Drum"/"Little Drummer Boy" by Katherine Davis (1941).

Joseph Wright - An Inspiration (From the Archives)

I first came across Joseph Wright’s story while reading Humphrey Carpenter’s biography on JRR Tolkien.

Photo of Joseph Wright
courtesy of Wiki Commons

“Joe Wright was a Yorkshireman, a truly self-made man who had worked his way up from the humblest origins to become Professor of Comparative Philology. He had been employed in a woollen-mill from the age of six, and at first this gave him no chance to learn to read and write. But by the time he was fifteen he was jealous of his workmates who could understand the newspapers, so he taught himself his letters. This did not take very long and only increased his desire to learn, so he went to night-school and studied French and German, He also taught himself Latin and mathematics, sitting over his books until two in the morning and rising again at five to set out for work.” (Carpenter 1977:55)

Wright used his savings to finance a term’s study at a university in Germany, walking most of the way to Heidelberg. Here he eventually took a doctorate before returning to England and joining Oxford University. Here he became a professor and wrote various books, among which was a Gothic primer, which “proved a revelation to Tolkien” (Carpenter 1977:55).

I have not been able to read the biography Wright’s wife wrote about him, but just this little piece of a life, written about in someone else’s biography, has been an inspiration to me and probably many others as well.

When I first read about this man who worked as hard as he could, regardless of his circumstances, I must have been in grade 11. My own love for languages had been kindled not that long before and I had seriously started to consider studying languages. I first came into contact with Gothic (other than the few words quoted in the Tolkien biography) in one of my first-year Afrikaans classes (about the language’s history, to be exact), where the Lord’s Prayer was quoted in our textbook. Little did I know then that only a few years later I would be using Wright’s own textbook in some of my studies!

Here is a sound clip and the text of the Lord's Prayer being recited in Gothic. 

Here are some links to Wright’s works available online and more information about him:

Joseph Wright’s Wikipedia page

Oxford Mail article: From woollen mills todreaming spires

Project Gutenberg; works by Joseph Wright

Ageless Words – Before the throne

This is one of my favourite quotes:

“Tomb, thou shalt not hold Him longer; Death is strong, but Life is stronger; Stronger than the dark, the light; Stronger than the wrong, the right; Faith and Hope triumphant say Christ will rise on Easter Day.” – Phillips Brooks

Easter is both a time of death, suffering and a stone tomb. But, more than that, it is a time of life, of renewal, of forgiveness and hope.

When you look around you – whether it is the daily news or perhaps even your own circumstances – it is very easy to forget that there is still good in the world. Days may be dark – but there have always been dark days. Chaos seems all around – but has it not been like that for centuries? Light will triumph in the end because it has already triumphed. There is no need to search for immortality and everlasting joy, because it is already within reach – just beyond the doorway, just beyond the curtain. The Light has already triumphed and the tomb is empty. Death is nothing now.

rume roderas; þæt is rice god,
sylf soðcyning, sawla nergend,
se us eal forgeaf þæt we on lifgaþ,
on deft æt þam ende eallum wealdeð
monna cynne. þæt is meotud sylfa.

The God of glory, the God of all strength,
made the wide firmament
and the kingdom of heaven.
He is the true King,
The Keeper of souls,
The One who forgives,
the One who bestows life here and hereafter –
the Ruler of mankind.
He is the One who is.
~ From “Maxims I – B”, translation by Brigit Pegeen Kelly. 
Quoted from The Word Exchange: Anglo-Saxon Poems in Translation, eds. Greg Delanty and Michael Matto. Published by W.W. Norton & Company.www.wwnorton.com/books/ 

Before the throne

In my room I will bow before the throne
And be still and search for words
In the tongues I know
To exalt and praise and plead.

I will go into my room to be alone,
I will be still and think only of this
And realise that there is an ear that will hear my words
On the throne that none can see.
I will think of ancient stone and desert lands harsh to withstand
And buildings great and grand.

But not there, not there will I go, not where all can see
A lone person praying. A broken person pleading.
I will be still and know that here my words are like
A song of praise that I can but imagine and not sing,
That stuttering words will become sweet music,
That simple words will be given flight,
That all asked from the Prince will be answered,
That the Spirit will fill the simple room where I am,
That the King will place his hand on my shoulder,
That I will go from this room with new life.

Tears will be dried,
New life will enter me.
New love will enter me.
New peace will enter me.
I will be unbound and look at the world anew.

I will go into my room to be alone,
To plead, to praise, to humbly ask for new life.
~ Written by Carin Marais

May you have a wonderful and blessed Easter weekend!

Inspiration Friday – St. Patrick’s Breastplate

 

Tomorrow (17 March) is St. Patrick’s Day – which for me will basically mean a whole day of listening to Irish music while studying[1] and taking a break to watch Riverdance. Anyhow, I’ve decided on posting this beautiful prayer attributed to St. Patrick - St. Patrick's Breastplate. This is the English translation and arrangement by Cecil Frances Alexander, with the Afrikaans translation by me[2].

I bind unto myself today

I bind unto myself today
the strong Name of the Trinity,
by invocation of the same,
the Three in One, and One in Three.

I bind this day to me for ever,
by power of faith, Christ's Incarnation;
his baptism in Jordan river;
his death on cross for my salvation;
his bursting from the spicèd tomb;
his riding up the heavenly way;
his coming at the day of doom:
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
of the great love of cherubim;
the sweet "Well done" in judgment hour;
the service of the seraphim;
confessors' faith, apostles' word,
the patriarchs' prayers, the prophets' scrolls;
all good deeds done unto the Lord,
and purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
the virtues of the starlit heaven
the glorious sun's life-giving ray,
the whiteness of the moon at even,
the flashing of the lightning free,
the whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
the stable earth, the deep salt sea,
around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
the power of God to hold and lead,
his eye to watch, his might to stay,
his ear to hearken, to my need;
the wisdom of my God to teach,
his hand to guide, his shield to ward;
the word of God to give me speech,
his heavenly host to be my guard.

Christ be with me,
Christ within me,
Christ behind me,
Christ before me,
Christ beside me,
Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort
and restore me.
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ in quiet,
Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of
all that love me,
Christ in mouth of
friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself today
the strong Name of the Trinity,
by invocation of the same,
the Three in One, and One in Three.
Of whom all nature hath creation,
eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
praise to the Lord of my salvation,
salvation is of Christ the Lord.

Ek bind tot myself vandag

Ek bind tot myself vandag
die sterk naam van die Drie-enigheid,

deur die afsmeking van dieselfde

drie in een, en een in drie.

Ek bind hierdie dag tot my vir ewig,

deur die krag van geloof, Christus se menswording,

Sy doop in die Jordaanrivier,

Sy dood aan die kruis vir my verlossing,

Sy opstanding uit die gekruide graf,

Sy opvaring na die hemel,

Sy koms op die dag van oordeel,

bind ek tot myself vandag.

Ek bind tot myself die krag

van die groot liefde van gerubyn;

die soete “wel gedaan” in oordeelsuur;

die diens van die serafyn;
belydenaar se geloof, apostels se woord,

die stamvaders se gebede, die profete se boekrolle;

alle goeie dade vir die Heer gedoen,

en reinheid van maagdelike siele.

Ek bind tot myself vandag

die deugde van die sterverligte hemel,

die glansryke son se lewegewende strale,

die witheid van die volmaan,

die flitse van die weerlig wat vrylik slaan,

die dwarrelende wind se stormagtige rukke,

die stabiele aarde, die diep sout see

om die ou, ewige rotse.

Ek bind tot myself vandag
die mag van God om te behou en te lei,

Sy oog om te waak, Sy mag om te keer,

Sy oor om na my behoefte te luister,

die wysheid van God om te leer,

Sy hand om te lei, Sy skild om af te weer,

die woord van God om my spraak te gee,

Sy hemelse leërskare om my wag te wees.

Christus wees met my,

Christus wees binne my,

Christus agter my,

Christus voor my,

Christus langs my,

Christus om my te wen,

Christus om my te troos

en my te vernuwe.

Christus onder my,

Christus bo my,

Christus in stilte,

Christus in gevaar,

Christus in die harte

van almal wat my liefhet,

Christus in die mond van

vriend en vreemdeling.

Ek bind tot myself vandag

die sterk naam van die Drie-enigheid,

deur die afsmeking van dieselfde,

die drie in een, en een in drie

deur wie die hele natuur geskep is,

ewige Vader, Gees, Woord.

Lof aan die Heer van my redding;

redding is van Christus die Heer.

More info on St. Patrick’s life and St. Patrick’s Breastplate can be found here, here and here.

Vintage St. Patrick image by The Graphics Fairy

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[1] Because I really need to catch up after I got nothing done last week!

[2] Yes, translation really is fun to me, especially when it’s a text I really enjoy and love. I hope to have the translation of the original St. Patrick’s Breastplate ready for next week’s post. 

Inspiration Friday – Siúil a Rúin

In keeping with the Celtic theme of March’s Inspiration Fridays, I’ve decided on one of my favourite Irish folk songs and which is also one of the first Irish songs I learnt. Those who often read these blogs will know by now that I love history as much as folklore and mythology. I also seem to be pulled more towards songs which tell a story and have some history (no, ‘golden oldies’ from the year 2000 do not count…).

“Siúil a Rúin” is a traditional Irish song, sung from the point of view of a woman lamenting a lover who has embarked on a military career, and indicating her willingness to support him. The song has English language verses and an Irish language chorus, a style known as macaronic.” (More information here.)

As with many traditional or folk songs, there are various versions of the song. The one I’m quoting below is the version I know best. But first, two music videos – one of “Siúil a Rúin” and the other “Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier”; an American variant of the song. I’ve also included an Afrikaans translation of the song just for fun.

The English lyrics:

Siúil a Rúin

I wish I was on yonder hill

'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill

And every tear would turn a mill

Is go dté tú mo mhuirnín slán

Chorus

Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin

Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin

Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

(Walk, walk, walk, O love,
Walk quickly to me, softly move;
Walk to the door, and away we'll flee,
And safe may my darling be)

I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel

I'll sell my only spinning wheel

To buy my love a sword of steel

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red

And round the world I'll beg my bread

Until my parents shall wish me dead

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain

I wish I had my heart again

And vainly think I'd not complain

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

The Afrikaans translation of this version:/Die Afrikaanse vertaling van hierdie weergawe:

Gaan, my liefling

Ek wens ek was op daardie heuwel,

Daar sal ek sit en al my trane stort,

En elke traan sal ’n meul laat draai,

Mag jy veilig gaan my liefling.

Refrein:

Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin

Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin

Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

(Stap, stap, stap my lief,

Stap saggies en stap stil,

Stap na die deur en ontsnap saam met my,

En mag jy veilig gaan my liefling.)[1]

Ek sal my spinstok, my spintol

En my enigste spinwiel verkoop,

Om vir my geliefde ’n swaard van staal te koop,

Mag jy veilig gaan my liefling.

Ek sal my onderrokke kleur, ek sal hulle rooi kleur,

En oor die wêreld heen vir my brood bedel,

Totdat my ouers my sal dood wens,

En mag jy veilig gaan my liefling.

Ek wens, ek wens, ek wens tevergeefs,

Ek wens ek het my hart weer gehad,

En dink vergeefs dan sal ek nie kla,

Mag jy veilig gaan my liefling.

Picture of this beautiful spinning reel found here.

Have a lovely weekend!

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[1] Die refrain ka nook vertaal word as: Kom, kom, kom, o liefling,/ Kom vinnig na my, beweeg saggies;/ Kom na die deur en ons sal wegvlug/ En mag jy, liefling, vir altyd veilig wees! maar ek hou meer van die ‘s’ alliterasie in die ander vertaling saam met die betekenis van die refrein en die oorspronklike klanke van die Ierse woorde.

Folklore & Inspiration Friday – A Rose, a Song and a Poem

March is both the month in which the leaves of the big tree at my humble abode start to turn yellow and the month in which St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated. I must have some Celtic gene in me somewhere, because I adore Celtic music. As I was thinking about some inspiration for March, I was reminded of a translation of “My Luve’s Like a Red, Red Rose” which was translated in the early 1920s by Eugène N. Marais – one of the best known Afrikaans writers. After this lovely poem I turn my attention to the “language of flowers” and roses in particular.

Classic poem, classic song

I’ve copied the text from the book In Poet’s Company[1], which I have used before for Inspiration Friday. More about the history of thissong can be found here.

My Luve’s Like a Red, Red Rose

O, my luve’s like a red, red rose,

That’s newly sprung in June:

O, my luve’s like the melodie

That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel a while!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.

Here is a video of King's Singers singing this classic:

And here is the translation:

“My liefste’s soos ’n dieprooi roos”[2]

Na die gedig van Burns

 O, my Liefste’s soos ’n dieprooi roos

wat skitter in die dou;

My Liefste’s soos ’n helder lied

wat sag sy wys ontvou.

O Liefling, net so skoon as jy,

so reik my liefde hoog,

en glo my dit sal suiwer duur

totdat die see verdroog.

O, Soetste, tot die see verdroog,

die vaste grond vergaan,

sal ek my Liefde vas behou

deur heel my lewensbaan.

En, O, my Liefling, nou vaarwel,

neem al my sugte mee!

En glo dat ek terug sal kom,

al keer die diepste see.

Die Boerevrou, Desember 1921; Gedigte, 1925

Folklore Friday: The Meaning Behind a Rose

As those who often read this blog knows; I find folklore and mythology fascinating. The meaning of different flowers is one of those things I wish I could remember more of (but at least I have a few reference books for when my memory needs some help). In the Brewer’sDictionary of Phrase and Fable – probably one of the best known dictionaries – the following list of types of roses and their meanings is given:

“In the language of flowers different roses signify different characteristics or attributes, among them the following:

Burgundy rose: simplicity and beauty

China rose: grace or beauty ever fresh

Daily rose: a smile

Dog rose: pleasure mixed with pain

Faded rose: beauty is fleeting

Japan rose: beauty is your sole attraction

Moss rose: voluptuous love

Musk rose: capricious beauty

Provence rose: my heart is in flames

White rosebud: too young to love

White rose full of buds: secrecy

Wreath of roses: beauty and virtue rewarded

Yellow rose: infidelity”

(Brewer 2009:1142)[3]

With thanks to the Graphics Fairy 

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[1] Parker, E.W. 1951. The Poets’ Company. Vol. I. To the Nineteenth Century. Longmans, Green and Co. London.

[2] Eugène N. Marais. 2005. Die volledige versamelde gedigte. Eds. Baard, M. et al. Protea Boekehuis, Pretoria.

[3] Rockwood, C. (ed.).Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase & Fable, 18^th edition. Chambers Harrap Publishers Ltd. Edinburgh. www.brewersreference.com