rei! @roundtit@masto.anarch.cc

for whatever reason, mastodon isnt being very cooperative with my formatting, so please excuse my line breaks.

my translation of Baudelaire, Hymn À la Beauté.

Do you come down from the depths of the sky or out of the abyss,
O Beauty? Your gaze, infernal and divine,
Pours confusedly beneficence and crime,
And we may may for that liken you to wine.

You contain in your eye the setting sun and the dawn;
You spread perfumes like an evening storm;
Your kisses are a potion and your mouth a cask
Which makes heroes cowardly and children courageous.

Do you come out of some black chasm or descend from the stars?
Charmed destiny rides your coattails as a dog;
You scatter to fate joy and disasters,
And you govern all and never reply.

You step over corpses, Beauty, whom you mock;
Of your jewelry, Horror is not the least charming,
And Murder, among the most dear charms,
On your proud belly dance amorously.

The ephemeral sparks fly across you, candle,
Crackle, flame, and say: bless this conflagration!
The amorous panting inclined on his beauty
Has the air of the deathbound caressing his grave.

Which do you come from – the star or the inferno, what does it matter?
O Beauty! Enormous monster, dreadful, naive!
If your eye, your smile, your foot could open for for me the door
To some infinity, that I would love and have never known?

From Satan or from G-d, what does it matter? Angel or siren,
What does it matter, if you make – fairy with velvet eyes,
Rhythm, perfume, flash, o my unique queen! --
The universe less hideous and the instants less heavy?

went digging for works by Michel Henry, got recommended “L’Essence de la Manifestation” as a good place to look. and then i go hunting for it to get jumpscared by it being 800 pages long, because of course it is.

fucking phenomenologists.

anyway, if anyone wants to help me get my hands on it…. please get in contact

https://ayanami.substack.com?sd=pf

should i start a substack 👁👁

so i’m just not sure what to do with em!

i kind of want to publish my notes and writings somewhere but to some other extent these things are.,,, while not personal in a private sense, certainly filled with -personality?- if i may attach that word? in that, they are the residue of me trying to get into a greater understanding of a book, rather than trying to prove anything
maybe that is particularly worthwhile to some but it means they are not necessarily pedagogical but more…. self directed as an end, with a side effect that others can read them

almost done with the CPR. i’ve done some writing about it just as a method of clarifying my thoughts and i’m going to launch into a large essay towards the end of the year to explore a couple big questions i have with it.
we’ll see how it goes! reading kant has been a lot of fun, it’s interesting to see how he slots in with those who respond to him.
i feel with an enemy so formidable it is important to be well acquainted .

havin uhhh lot of fun with the critique of pure reason tbh lot more fun than i thought i would

Untitled
By Marcel Proust
Translated by シビル ちゃん

So weary of having suffered, more weary of having loved
Life having charmed me of its distances
Strengthens around me its uniform grip
And my dreams feeling its firm horizon
Melancholically curled up and were surprised
Who knows on hearing the autumn so touching
Whether it stifled a sob or held back a song
As serious as the hour, and like her, equivocal
My heart without knowing it had turned.

Lundi à une heureq
By Marcel Proust
Translated by シビルちゃん

The callousness of all nature
Thus seems to fill the void of our hearts.
It is blind matter's deceptive game
Where in opal and sky and eyes, victorious
And wounded in turn, love seemed to dream.
The form of crystals, the pigment of pupils,
And the thickness of the air deceives us in turn,
Trying to deceive our eternal anguish
Across nature, and woman, and eyes;
And the tenderness of light blue
Is a lie in the opal
And in the sky and in your eyes.

i think in some strange irony considering the author this poem is deeply strengthened by its reliance on leaving things unsaid

le temps efface tout has to be one of my favorite refrains of all time though. the way tempo was played with throughout, the little variation with the fog… incredible stuff

i don’t know that this one grabbed me quite as the last one did, but the subjonctif passe composée on “would have been” in the second to last stanza ties it together really nicely for me.
brings together every little unsettling piece up to this point and causes the rest of the poem to fall well into place.

Comme en la claire cour de l’exquis monastère…
by Marcel Proust
translated as: As In The Clear Courtyard of The Exquisite Monastery…
translated by シビルちゃん

Your charm is a courtyard of a lovely monastery
The sky is ocean blue through the white arches
It makes a nice place to pass the hot days sleeping
Under a thin pillar, quietly, with a cold drink.

Tomorrow, I know it well, became lonely
Hopelessly I will go toward some palace of troubles
But today your charm is my lover; the slow
Glances of your mauve eye are all there is on earth for me

Your brow does not confine in its slender whiteness
The infinite shadow out of which spills light
Yet I love you strangely, o dear one.

When to your clear laughter my heart beats no longer
I will still perhaps blush at the sweetness
That it would have been to rest nestled in your heart

As in the clear courtyard of the exquisite monastery.

零ちゃん人呼んで