NaBloPoMo Day 27 : Hafez and the Irish
When I was out power walking down the east-side esplanade with Alex like an OG, he told me he was learning Irish.
He called it Irish, not Gaelic. I forget why the term "Gaelic" is currently a no go.
I asked Alex why he was learning Irish. He currently speaks German, English and Norwegian. Irish seemed like an unlikely candidate for a fourth language in all cases. But especially in this case since his girlfriend is Columbian from Columbia.
Alex had his reasons. Which basically all amounted to he just wanted to learn Irish.
Alex asked me if I was going to learn another language, which one would I choose. I had to think on that. Even without a Columbian girlfriend, Spanish seems to bubble up as the sensible option.
But then again ... I have been reading these poems by a Sulfi poet named Hafez who lived in Iran in the 1300s. Many people I have encountered on the Interwebs complain early and often about the translation of these poems. They say that the translator of the most famous translation took ample liberties.
So maybe I want to learn Persian. Then I can read the Hafez poems and decide for myself what I think of the translations. Persian also appeals because it looks very pretty:
Writing in Persian would definitely require a fountain pen. Luckily I have one. Or two.
The second I learn Persian, I would read this poem by Hafez in Persian:
Apropos nothing, this poem appeals. Maybe it appeals because it's kind of true. All the perpetually sad people I know sure do worship at an alter of the past.
Anyway, I'd probably go with Persian. Or Romanian.
One or the other.
He called it Irish, not Gaelic. I forget why the term "Gaelic" is currently a no go.
I asked Alex why he was learning Irish. He currently speaks German, English and Norwegian. Irish seemed like an unlikely candidate for a fourth language in all cases. But especially in this case since his girlfriend is Columbian from Columbia.
Alex had his reasons. Which basically all amounted to he just wanted to learn Irish.
Alex asked me if I was going to learn another language, which one would I choose. I had to think on that. Even without a Columbian girlfriend, Spanish seems to bubble up as the sensible option.
But then again ... I have been reading these poems by a Sulfi poet named Hafez who lived in Iran in the 1300s. Many people I have encountered on the Interwebs complain early and often about the translation of these poems. They say that the translator of the most famous translation took ample liberties.
So maybe I want to learn Persian. Then I can read the Hafez poems and decide for myself what I think of the translations. Persian also appeals because it looks very pretty:
Writing in Persian would definitely require a fountain pen. Luckily I have one. Or two.
The second I learn Persian, I would read this poem by Hafez in Persian:
What do sad people have in common
It seems they have all built a shrine to the past,
And often they go there and do a strange wail and worship.
What is the beginning of happiness?
It is to stop
being so religious
Like
That.
Anyway, I'd probably go with Persian. Or Romanian.
One or the other.
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