Advent Calendar

O Oriens,
splendor lucis aeternae,
et sol justitiae:
veni, et illumina
sedentes in tenebris,
et umbra mortis.

O Dayspring,
splendor of eternal light,
and sun of justice,
come, and shine on those
who sit in darkness
and the shadow of death.

It is only through the grace of God that i have a phone at the moment (and an unexpected visit from a friend with a laptop and a cell phone). I have received numerous reports, mostly conflicting with each other, about the cause of this and how long it should take to fix. It is also a few days before Christmas and I have no great hope that it will be repaired in time. So, due to a lot of things out of my control, I may not be able to update as planned--if anyone would like to contribute or take over the regular post, I will unmoderate and open the floor completely.

Bless!

A nocturnall upon S. Lucies day,
Being the shortest day

TIS the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,
Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes,
The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes;
The worlds whole sap is sunke:
The generall balme th'hydroptique earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunke,
Dead and enterr'd; yet all these seeme to laugh,
Compar'd with mee, who am their Epitaph.

Study me then, you who shall lovers bee
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new Alchimie.
For his art did expresse
A quintessence even from nothingnesse,
From dull privations, and leane emptinesse:
He ruin'd mee, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darknesse, death; things which are not.

All others, from all things, draw all that's good,
Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have;
I, by loves limbecke, am the grave
Of all, that's nothing. Oft a flood
Have wee two wept, and so
Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two Chaosses, when we did show
Care to ought else; and often absences
Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses.

But I am by her death, (which word wrongs her)
Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown;
Were I a man, that I were one,
I needs must know; I should preferre,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; All, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light, and body must be here.

But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew.
You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne
At this time to the Goat is runne
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall,
Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call
This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this
Both the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.

In Donne's day the calendar had shifted so that the winter solstice fell on this day, which was also the feast of St. Lucy, a very early martyr. Text courtesy of Bartleby.com.

Friends,
I would like to commend to your attention the poem by
Boris Pasternak "Christmas Star" which I posted on my
journal today :
http://www.livejournal.com/users/seraphimsigrist/353939.html?view=7561107#t7561107
I should like to call it to your attention including the
good many of you on my friends list who may have been
distracted by what might be called a side issue in the
posting... with a smile...
It was translated by my friend the poet Dick Dauenhauer
and the thing of it is that he translated it over a period
of I think three years using the Advent Season.
So what I think to post here is his notes during Advent
over these years...
He is Eastern Orthodox, as of course was Pasternak, and
some references are to Eastern liturgics, but that need
not be offputting...when Orthodox or any people...put aside
their superiority complexes then they need no inferiority
complex either nor need there be any discontinuity...as
Orthodox theologian Olivier Clement said of visiting
Taize by Orthodox Christians. It is when the details of
a particular tradition are presented with some purpose
of boasting or seduction over this or that peculiarity
that the thing becomes embarassing...with Dick there is
none of that. Well excuse the excursus to the side
and now if you will join me in the Advent journey of
the translator including in this section ,and ending with,
a fine new poem of his own please click to the right just
about here.( Read more...Collapse )
.
Boris Pasternak.