quotidians: a comic-style drawing of french poet arthur rimbaud. (Default)
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( Apr. 2nd, 2026 09:00 pm)
Whenever I read poetry or philosophy in translation I can't stop myself from agonizing over some real or imagined nuance that might've been lost. Not to discredit translators in any way--they're typically quite successful in conveying the overall meaning & feeling of a piece--but sometimes the nuance is in the structure of the language itself, and that's the most difficult part to replicate.

There's this Kobayashi Issa haiku that's been making the rounds online. The English translation reads

Mother I never knew,
every time I see the ocean,
every time—

Which is still quite beautiful and succeeds in conveying longing for a late mother, but the point of the poem is really in the structure of the characters themselves. In the original Japanese, it reads

亡き母や 海見る度、見る度に

The kanji for "mother" is 母, and "ocean" is 海 (as they are in Mandarin, my native tongue). Along with the radical 氵, which represents water, 母 also appears within the character 海 as a radical. English also has plenty of portmanteaus, but there's no equivalent in this specific case, so there's always going to be that little piece missing from the translation.

Another language thing that's only tangentially related: there's a commune in France called Condom, which comes from the Gaulish Condatómagos, apparently meaning "field of the confluence." It was then recorded in Latin as Condomus, before the modern-day name. According to its Wikipedia page, Siouxsie Sioux and Budgie of Siouxsie and the Banshees fame lived there for a couple of years. They've got a Condom Cathedral, and there used to be a Roman Catholic Diocese of Condom up until 1801 (though no bishop of Condom has ever been elected Pope). The actual word for a condom is préservatif in French, but incidentally this little municipality is located by the river Baïse, which is very close to the verb baiser, meaning "to fuck".
quotidians: a comic-style drawing of french poet arthur rimbaud. (Default)
( Jul. 1st, 2025 12:35 am)
I have to read more. And I have to update this blog more. Here's to killing two birds with one stone.

In no particular order:
1. Immanuel Kant - Critique of Pure Reason
2. Donella H. Meadows - Thinking in Systems
3. Joseph Konrad - Heart of Darkness
4. Ernst Jünger - Storm of Steel
5. Umberto Eco - The Name of the Rose
6. Umberto Eco - Foucault's Pendulum
7. Michel Foucault - History of Sexuality (a professor told me to read this nearly a year ago and I never got around to it)
8. Herman Melville - Moby Dick
9. Charles Baudelaire - Les Fleurs du Mal (in the original French!!!! no excuses.)
10. Procopius - The Secret History
11. Bertrand Russell - In Praise of Idleness
12. Søren Kierkegaard - Fear and Trembling
13. The Bible (not a Christian just interested in theology)
14. Voltaire - Candide (IN THE ORIGINAL FRENCH!!!!! I gave up reading this last year but I'll brute force my way through it this year)
15. Alexis de Toqueville - Democracy in America (doesn't have to be in the original French. There's a limit to my patience.)
16. Italo Calvino - Invisible Cities
17. Geoffrey Chaucer - The Canterbury Tales
I don't know what it is, but something about this book makes it stick in my mind. I'll be thinking about it a long while.

'As we walked through the rainbow haze of the neon-colored snow he pressed a small book into my hand.
– I received this for an oral favor I happen to have performed for a restaurateur friend. It’s a prayer book. Your need is greater than mine.
– You filthy liar! I cried when we had reached the streetlamp and read the cover. It’s an English-Greek phrase book, badly printed in Salonica!
– Prayer is translation. A man translates himself into a child asking for all there is in a language he has barely mastered. Study the book.
– And the English is execrable. F., you torture me purposefully.
– Ah, he said blithely sniffing the night, ah, it’s soon Christmas in India. Families gathered round the Christmas curry, carols before the blazing Yule corpse, children waiting for the bells of Bhagavad-Santa.
– You soil everything, don’t you?
– Study the book. Comb it for prayers and guidance. It will teach you how to breathe.
– Sniff. Sniff.
– No, that’s wrong.'

"Spring comes into Québec from the west. It is the warm Japan Current that brings the change of season to the west coast of Canada, and then the West Wind picks it up. It comes across the prairies in the breath of the Chinook, waking up the grain and caves of bears. It flows over Ontario like a dream of legislation, and it sneaks into Québec, into our villages, between our birch trees. In Montréal the cafés, like a bed of tulip bulbs, sprout from their cellars in a display of awnings and chairs. In Montréal spring is like an autopsy. Everyone wants to see the inside of the frozen mammoth. Girls rip off their sleeves and the flesh is sweet and white, like wood under green bark. From the streets a sexual manifesto rises like an inflating tire, 'The winter has not killed us again!'"
quotidians: a comic-style drawing of french poet arthur rimbaud. (Default)
( Jan. 29th, 2024 05:18 pm)
i've been learning german on my own for a little over a month now, working my way through youtube lessons, comprehensive input videos and an assimil exercise book i pirated. why german? dunno. i was always vaguely interested in it, first cause i thought it sounded funny and then cause of my fascination with the berlin wall as well as the intriguing literary and philosophical works that were originally written in the language. anyhow i'm having a lot of fun with it-- i think it's a charming language, and learning's always more fun when nobody's telling you to do it. i won't subject you to my mediocre deutsch yet, not that there's even much i could even say considering my vocabulary's limited to phrases like "der Tee ist kalt" and "entschuldigung" and "ich bin nicht schwul" (i learnt that one from a depeche mode interview...)

for my future language-acquisition exploits, i'd really love to learn something with a writing system completely different to english. so far, the european languages i know all fall under romance or germanic categorization. it's why i'm interested in giving myself a real challenge and learning something like russian or arabic, where the script itself is totally different. mandarin is my mother tongue, and though i can speak it fluently, i always had trouble remembering how to write all the characters as a kid. my reading comprehension for mandarin has also greatly deteriorated too, so i'd like to begin teaching myself again someday even if i feel there's something massively humiliating about having to learn your own first language again.

on top of that, i'd also like to learn a language with ancient roots sometime-- something like latin or sanskrit. though i'd better not try to run before i can crawl. maybe i'll read this entry again in a few years when i can speak perfect latin and german and proto-indo-european and laugh at myself. or maybe i'll read this again not knowing anything and laugh at myself all the same. i hope it's the former.
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