Sláinte, Sire Schiller!

Geben Sie Gedankenfreiheit!
Give freedom of thought! *
Friedrich von Schiller , November 10th, 1759 - May 9th, 1805

To put it straight: In case I were an autograph collector, I'd give 100 Grass' and Goethes for one Schiller.

* The quotation above is incomplete?

You miss one word?
The word "Sire"?

Hm, let's look at Don Carlos, 3,10 on page 176 of Volume one of the complete edition from 1886, published by A. Warschauer Verlag, Berlin.

It's obviously neither Geben Sie Gedankenfreiheit, Sire! nor Sire, geben Sie Gedankenfreiheit!.

Why would most quotation collections then offer Sire, give freedom of thought! ?

Let's look a bit closer.

See the 'stage directions' after Gedankenfreiheit?

1. in the same line: Sich ihm zu Füßen werfend = Throwing himself at his feet
2. König / King (überrascht, etc = surprised, etc.)

Is it possible that some translator(s) in later (erroneously) added König / Sire to Marquis Posa's speech, and thus it became Sire, give freedom of thought?

Well, anyway, Friedrich, both we shall be able to live with this, shan't we? :)

In this sense [raising my tin chalice from 1905]: Sláinte, Sire!

Summer leaves

Some might say: Bravo Sean, who would have thought that when winter is in the air summer leaves?
Well ... :) ... this does not lack of logic.

In the Fog

Im Nebel

Seltsam, im Nebel zu wandern!
Einsam ist jeder Busch und Stein,
Kein Baum sieht den andern,
Jeder ist allein.

Voll von Freunden war mir die Welt,
Als noch mein Leben licht war;
Nun, da der Nebel fällt,
Ist keiner mehr sichtbar.

Wahrlich, keiner ist weise,
Der nicht das Dunkel kennt,
Das unentrinnbar und leise
Von allen ihn trennt.

Seltsam, Im Nebel zu wandern!
Leben ist Einsamsein.
Kein Mensch kennt den andern,
Jeder ist allein.

Hermann Hesse, November 1905

And here - fully aware that here and there it will sound strange - perhaps even foggy :) - to some native speakers - a humble attempt to translate as literally as possible.
Suggestions for improvement are, nevertheless, welcome.

In the Fog

Strange, to wander in the fog!
Alone each bush and stone,
No tree does see the other,
Each is alone.

Full of friends was my world
When still my life was light;
Now the fog descends
None is to be seen.

Verily, no one is wise
Who does not know the dark
Which inescapably and quietly
From everyone him separates.

Strange, to wander in the fog!
Life is loneliness.
No man knows the other,
Each is alone.

As for some crossroads

When reading an interesting little crosstalk about crossroads in the comment section to Stan's fascinating post Blather and blarney and blindfolding the devil which to read and enjoy herewith I do again wholeheartedly recommend, it crossed my mind that once in the past millennium with great interest I read this book.


Well, actually I had just been after - sic! :) re-reading it only a couple of weeks before, which was the more interesting, as the reader had the advantage to know more about the past 13 years than the contributors while writing their essays.

John Hume, f.e., could not know that in 13 years time there'd be a heated discussion whether a majority of the Irish in the(ir) second referendum about the so-called Lisbon-Treaty within one year should vote "Yes" or once again "No".

Still, his essay Everything is Political in a divided Society could easily be written in September 2009.
Judge yourself.
Here's a short excerpt taken from “Arguing at the Crossroads – Essays on a changing Ireland”, 1997, pp 105/106:

"[...] The renewal of Ireland is scarcely thinkable outside the process of the development of a political and cultural Europe. [...] It (the EU; sj) is the greatest example of conflict resolution in the history of humanity. Nations who for centuries invaded each other, occupied each other’s territories, expelled each other’s peoples and massacred each other, came together freely to bury their old hatreds. [...] But the fact that these nations have preserved their identities is even more encouraging. It proves that institutions can be created to pursue common objectives without sacrificing Europe’s diversity of culture and traditions.

[...] The more people are given responsibility for their future, the more they show their ability to take such responibility. The more people believe that their political institutions belong to them, the more effective those institutions will be.
[...] Working for a new Ireland in a new Europe [...] It is time to look honestly at the virtues and defects of our society and find new answers capable of preparing us for the challenges which lie ahead. It is time to paint a realistic portrait of society and to abandon the consolation of outmoded imaginary mental pictures. We need the courage to imagine new perspectives which will help us to formulate answers to the questions of social diversity, possible political institutions and the eventual resolution of our conflict."

Trying to put some things in context

Face to Face with Bertrand Russell

Why waiting another thousand years?

Imagine, already those approximately 6.5 billion human beings living today would behave and act accordingly ...

Crescent Nebula

Please click to enlarge

NGC 6888 (Crescent Nebula)

Dedicated to those (earthlings)
who think they were the cream of all universes
and even those not yet discovered.

*

An ideal couple, the astrophysicist and I,
I watch the wor(l)d, he observes the sky.

No personal note

Days I enjoy

Days I enjoy are days when nothing happens,
When I have no engagements written on my block,
When no one comes to disturb my inward peace,
When no one comes to take me away from myself
And turn me into a patchwork, a jig-saw puzzle.

A broken mirror that once gave a whole reflection,
Being so contrived that it takes too long a time
To get myself back to myself when they have gone.
The years are to strictly measured, and life too short
For me to afford such bits of myself to my friends.

And what have I to give to my friends in the last resort?
An awkwardness, a shyness, and a scrap,
No thing that's truly me, a bootless waste,
A waste of myself and of them, for my life is mine
And theirs presumably theirs, and cannot touch.

Vita Sackville-West (1892-1962)

The leaves are falling

Camouflage perdu.

Winter is in the Air

"See there! See there, Timotheus,
Behold the cranes of Ibycus!"

15 minutes ago:
Those who in February were harbingers of spring,
while passing Seanhenge singing their "Farewell".

Clandestini

Italian is a beautiful language.

Imagine an Italian speaking ...

f.e., the word clandestini.

Clan - des - ti - ni.

Ah, it's music, isn't it?

Well, the right voice, and il - le - gal(e) sounds sweet as well, hm?

Illegal(e) is just another word for clandestino, clandestina, clandestini.

Völkerwanderung (wandering of the people) is a / the German word for migration.

Ever heard about the migration period?

And:

Do you remember what Deng Xiaoping once offered Jimmy Carter when the US-President insisted on speaking about human rights?
Basically:
How many Chinese do you wish me to let accompany you on your return-flight? Ten millions? Fifty millions? 100 millions?
It is said that Mr Carter immediately changed the topic.

Clandestini - illegals.

A very very difficult topic. And very a complex one.

Too complex for me to put all aspects into a short post.

Yesterday I heard a song, though. The CD's title: Clandestini.

Don't know why, but immediately I thought of some posts by Welshcakes Limoncello.
There have been quite a few about this topic in recent years, but when reading this one from April 14th (The sea has no generosity) and this one from June 17th ( (Il silencio del mare), you will almost know what I think about one aspect.

And, although it is / seems nowadays but a platitude, I like it:
Everyone is illegal - almost everywhere.

In this sense: Here's Manu Chao.

A gem for Joyceans ...

... and those (perhaps / hopefully) to come.
Praised be Chris god-free Morals for sending me the link(s) to following gem(s), taken from a series called "Great Modern Writers".
Enjoy!