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Dec 29th, 2019
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From Shevchenko:
The Mighty Dnieper
The mighty Dnieper roars and bellows,
The wind in anger howls and raves,
Down to the ground it bends the willows,
And mountain-high lifts up the waves.
The pale-faced moon picked out this moment
To peek out from behind a cloud,
Like a canoe upon the ocean
It first tips up, and then dips down.
The cocks don't crow to wake the morning,
There's not as yet a sound of man,
The owls in glades call out their warnings,
And ash trees creak and creak again.
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From Frost, appropriate to the season:
Prayer in Spring
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orcahrd white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.
And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.
For this is love and nothing else is love,
To which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends he will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.
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A Prayer To The Virgin
Gentle Mary, Noble Maiden,
Hearken to our suppliant pleas!
Shrine God's only Son was laid in!
Casket of the Mysteries!
Holy Maid, pure Queen of Heaven,
Intercession for us make,
That each hardened heart's transgression
May be pardoned for Thy sake.
Bent in loving pity o'er us,
Through the Holy Spirit's power,
Pray the King of Angels for us
In Thy Visitation hour.
Branch of Jesse's Tree whose blossoms
Scent the heavenly hazel wood,
Pray for me for full purgation
Of my bosom's turpitude.
Mary, crown of splendour glowing,
Dear destroyer of Eve's ill,
Noble torch of Love far-showing,
Fruitful stock of God's good will;
Heavenly Virgin, Maid transcendent,
Yea! He willed that Thou shouldst be
His fair Ark of Life Resplendent,
His pure Queen of Chastity.
Mother of all good, to free me,
Interceding at my side,
Pray Thy First-Born to redeem me,
When the Judgment books are wide;
Star of knowledge, rare and noble,
Tree of many-blossoming sprays,
Lamp to light our night of trouble,
Sun to cheer our weary days;
Ladder to the Heavenly Highway,
Whither every Saint ascends,
Be a safeguard still, till my way
In Thy glorious Kingdom ends!
Covert fair of sweet protection,
Chosen for a Monarch's rest,
Hostel for nine months' refection
Of a Noble Infant Guest;
Glorious Heavenly Porch, whereunder,
So the day-star sinks his head,
God's Own Son--O saving wonder!
Jesus was incarnated;
For the fair Babe's sake conceiv�d
In Thy womb and brought to birth,
For the Blest Child's sake, receiv�d
Now as King of Heaven and Earth;
For His Rood's sake! starker, steeper
Hath no other Cross been set,
For His Tomb's sake! darker, deeper
There hath been no burial yet;
By His Blessed Resurrection,
When He triumphed o'er the tomb,
By The Church of His affection
'During till the Day of Doom,
Safeguard our unblest behaviour,
Till behind Death's blinding veil,
Face to face, we see our Saviour.
This our prayer is: Hail! All Hail!
(9th century Irish prayer)
"One day all our ethnic traits ... will have disappeared. Time itself is seeing to this. And so we can not think of our communities as ethnic parishes, ... unless we wish to assure the death of our community."
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Caoineadh na dTr' Muire
(Lament of the Three Marys)
O Peter, O Apostle, my bright Love, hast thou found Him?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
Even now in the midst of His foemen I found Him.
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
Come hither, ye two Marys, and my bright Love be keening.
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
If His body be not with us, sure our keening had little meaning.
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
Who is yonder stately Man on the Tree His passion showing?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
O Mother, thine own Son, can it be thou art not knowing.
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
And is that the little Son whom nine months I was bearing?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
And is that the little Son in the stall I was caring?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
And is that the little Son this Mary's breast was draining?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
Hush thee, hush thee, Mother, and be not so complaining.
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
And is this the very hammer that struck the sharp nails thro' Thee?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
And this the very spear that Thy white side pierced and slew Thee?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
And is that the crown of thorns that Thy beauteous head is caging?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
Hush, Mother, for My sake thy sorrow be assuaging.
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
For thy own love's sake thy cruel sorrow smother!
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
The women of my keening are unborn yet, little Mother!
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
O woman, why weepest thou My death that leads to pardon?
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
Happy hundreds, to-day, shall stray through Paradise's Gardens.
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!
[Also known as Caoineadh Muire or the Lament of Mary, this is an ancient Irish Crucifixion hymn, originally chanted in Erse (Irish Gaelic), in the style of keening (lamentation). Padraig Pearse, of blessed memory, an Irish patriot of the early 20th century, wrote this translation of it from the Irish, from a keening of it by a Mary Clancy of Moycullen in County Galway, Ireland. He elected not to translate the lamentation M'ochon agus m'ochon, O!, as he felt that the sorrow it conveyed in Erse couldn't be properly rendered in English.
M'ochon agus m'ochon, O! roughly translates as My grief, O my terrible grief
In speaking of the occasion on which he heard it keened by Mary Clancy, Pearse wrote "I have heard nothing more exquisite than her low sobbing recitative instinct with a profoundly felt emotion. There was a great horror in her voice at S an � sin an cas�r, etc., (the verse in which the Theotokos asks And is this the very hammer that struck the sharp nails thro' Thee?) and with the next stanza the chant rose into a wail. She cried pitifully and struck her breast several times during the recitation. It is a very precious thing for the world that in the homes of Ireland there are still men and women who can shed tears for the sorrows of Mary and her Son".]
"One day all our ethnic traits ... will have disappeared. Time itself is seeing to this. And so we can not think of our communities as ethnic parishes, ... unless we wish to assure the death of our community."
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Very nice, Neil - keep it coming. 
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A favorite of mine
When You Are Old
When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
William Butler Yeats
"One day all our ethnic traits ... will have disappeared. Time itself is seeing to this. And so we can not think of our communities as ethnic parishes, ... unless we wish to assure the death of our community."
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Another from Pushkin:
As freedom's sower in the wasteland
Before the morning star I went;
From hand immaculate and chastened
Into the grooves of prisonment
Flinging the vital seed I wandered--
But it was time and toiling squandered,
Benevolent designs misspent...
Graze on, graze on, submissive nation!
You will not wake to honor's call.
Why offer herds their liberation?
For them are shears or slaughter-stall,
Their heritage each generation
The yoke with jingles, and the gall.
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A good time for Pangur B�n [ georgetown.edu] . Version by W.H. Auden:
Pangur, white Pangur, How happy we are
Alone together, scholar and cat
Each has his own work to do daily;
For you it is hunting, for me study.
Your shining eye watches the wall;
My feeble eye is fixed on a book.
You rejoice, when your claws entrap a mouse;
I rejoice when my mind fathoms a problem.
Pleased with his own art, neither hinders the other;
Thus we live ever without tedium and envy.
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