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fandomhigh2006-04-21 10:21 pm
godinakilt.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2006-04-21 10:21 pm
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Celtic Studies (04/21)
"Madainn mhath, a chlas," Camulus begins as usual. "Turn to page 173 in your books, we'll be looking at a simple poem called 'Pangur Bán', which is usually titled in English 'The Scholar and his Cat'. It was written in what is called Classical Gaelic as it existed before the languages split into their modern forms of the Irish Gaelige and the Scottish Gaidhlig.
Messe ocus Pangur bán,
cechtar nathar fria shaindán:
bíth a menmasam fri seilgg,
mu menma céin im shaincheirdd.
Caraimse fos, ferr cach clú,
oc mu lebrán, léir ingnu;
ní foirmtech frimm Pangur bán:
caraid cesin a maccdán.
Ó ru biam, scél cen scís,
innar tegdais, ar n-óendís,
táithiunn, díchríchide clius,
ní fris tarddam ar n-áthius.
Gnáth, húaraib, ar gressaib gal
glenaid luch inna línsam;
os mé, du-fuit im lín chéin
dliged ndoraid cu ndronchéill.
Fúachaidsem fri frega fál
a rosc, a nglése comlán;
fúachimm chéin fri fégi fis
mu rosc réil, cesu imdis.
Fáelidsem cu ndéne dul
hi nglen luch inna gérchrub;
hi tucu cheist ndoraid ndil
os mé chene am fáelid.
Cia beimmi a-min nach ré
ní derban cách a chéle:
maith la cechtar nár a dán;
subaigthius a óenurán.
Hé fesin as choimsid dáu
in muid du-ngní cach óenláu;
du thabairt doraid du glé
for mu mud céin am messe.
I and white Pangur
practise each of us his special art:
his mind is set on hunting,
my mind on my special craft.
I love (it is better than all fame)
to be quiet beside my book, diligently pursuing knowledge.
White Pangur does not envy me:
he loves his childish craft.
When the two of us (this tale never wearies us)
are alone together in our house,
we have something to which we may apply our skill,
an endless sport.
It is usual, at times, for a mouse to stick in his net,
as a result of warlike battlings.
For my part, into my net falls
some difficult rule of hard meaning.
He directs his bright perfect eye
against an enclosing wall.
Though my clear eye is very weak
I direct it against keenness of knowledge.
He is joyful with swift movement
when a mouse sticks in his sharp paw.
I too am joyful when I understand
a dearly loved difficult problem.
Though we be thus at any time,
neither of us hinders the other:
each of us likes his craft,
severally rejoicing in them.
He it is who is master for himself
of the work which he does every day.
I can perform my own work
directed at understanding clearly what is difficult.
"This poem was found in the margins of a manuscript in the Monastery of St Paul, in Carinthia, Austria. It seems to have been written by an Irish monk, sometime around the ninth century. 'Pangur' is a sort of default name for a cat, much like the modern 'Rover' or 'Fido' for a dog.
"You'll notice that this poem breaks from the conventions of the dan direach that I was lecturing about last lesson . . ."
And on he went.
Who knew that a cute little poem about a scholar and his cat could be so full of detail that would require so much lecturing?
[[If you have sound, you can hear the poem being read here.]]
Messe ocus Pangur bán,
cechtar nathar fria shaindán:
bíth a menmasam fri seilgg,
mu menma céin im shaincheirdd.
Caraimse fos, ferr cach clú,
oc mu lebrán, léir ingnu;
ní foirmtech frimm Pangur bán:
caraid cesin a maccdán.
Ó ru biam, scél cen scís,
innar tegdais, ar n-óendís,
táithiunn, díchríchide clius,
ní fris tarddam ar n-áthius.
Gnáth, húaraib, ar gressaib gal
glenaid luch inna línsam;
os mé, du-fuit im lín chéin
dliged ndoraid cu ndronchéill.
Fúachaidsem fri frega fál
a rosc, a nglése comlán;
fúachimm chéin fri fégi fis
mu rosc réil, cesu imdis.
Fáelidsem cu ndéne dul
hi nglen luch inna gérchrub;
hi tucu cheist ndoraid ndil
os mé chene am fáelid.
Cia beimmi a-min nach ré
ní derban cách a chéle:
maith la cechtar nár a dán;
subaigthius a óenurán.
Hé fesin as choimsid dáu
in muid du-ngní cach óenláu;
du thabairt doraid du glé
for mu mud céin am messe.
I and white Pangur
practise each of us his special art:
his mind is set on hunting,
my mind on my special craft.
I love (it is better than all fame)
to be quiet beside my book, diligently pursuing knowledge.
White Pangur does not envy me:
he loves his childish craft.
When the two of us (this tale never wearies us)
are alone together in our house,
we have something to which we may apply our skill,
an endless sport.
It is usual, at times, for a mouse to stick in his net,
as a result of warlike battlings.
For my part, into my net falls
some difficult rule of hard meaning.
He directs his bright perfect eye
against an enclosing wall.
Though my clear eye is very weak
I direct it against keenness of knowledge.
He is joyful with swift movement
when a mouse sticks in his sharp paw.
I too am joyful when I understand
a dearly loved difficult problem.
Though we be thus at any time,
neither of us hinders the other:
each of us likes his craft,
severally rejoicing in them.
He it is who is master for himself
of the work which he does every day.
I can perform my own work
directed at understanding clearly what is difficult.
"This poem was found in the margins of a manuscript in the Monastery of St Paul, in Carinthia, Austria. It seems to have been written by an Irish monk, sometime around the ninth century. 'Pangur' is a sort of default name for a cat, much like the modern 'Rover' or 'Fido' for a dog.
"You'll notice that this poem breaks from the conventions of the dan direach that I was lecturing about last lesson . . ."
And on he went.
Who knew that a cute little poem about a scholar and his cat could be so full of detail that would require so much lecturing?
[[If you have sound, you can hear the poem being read here.]]
no subject
no subject
It might have been meant to construe "Want some coffee?"
no subject
no subject