from all the ends of the earth
And now a music post.
In general, usually when you let someone listen to classical music, and especially such long and deep concerts, it is customary to provide the context in which this music was written in order to better understand it. But now I will limit myself to just three phrases:
Recently we were suddenly bombarded with strange questions about the draghars and asked to answer them. I don't know why us, but okay.
That's all. If we remember anything else, we’ll be sure to mention it in future posts.
news: the circus has arrived in Hveitstad.
aaaaaaaaaa
I will dilute my grief and sad stories with natural beauty.
Sorry for the silence: yesterday I had a terrible fight with a not very pleasant person, from which I am still burning. But it became the reason for writing another post.
In 457 AD, the so-called The Council of Federa was the fourth ecumenical council of the Christian church, convened on the occasion of the Imagist heresy, which was very widespread in those years. Not many people know about it, and this is not the most pleasant page in the history of Christianity - but I will try to tell you briefly.
TOO IMPRESSIVENESS NOT TO READ
The essence of imagism is this: God created people in his own image and likeness - and people with alves and doors perfectly correspond to this concept. But the Gearts, as a result of some sin by one of Adam’s descendants, lost their original human appearance (!), thereby paying for that ancient sin. It would be okay if it all ended there; but the followers of this teaching believed that in order to restore intimacy with God, the Geart needed to cut off its tail. Literally.
History has not recorded the number of Gearts who suffered as a result of this stunningly absurd movement - there were from several hundred to several thousand, most likely. And without a tail, a Geart immediately begins to have a lot of problems: adults constantly lose their balance, their posture is impaired, and spinal diseases progress; if the tail was cut off in early childhood, then the entire spine of such an unfortunate person develops incorrectly - but the Imagists said that this was just retribution for sin and you just need to be patient.
The Fed Council decisively debunked this heresy in just a couple of weeks, and immediately excommunicated its zealous supporters from the Church. At the same time, a resolution was adopted regarding the fact that the Gearts are considered equal in rights with people and other members of the Church, and the verse “in the image and likeness” implies, first of all, not a physical appearance, but a spiritual one. The bodily differences were explained in exactly the same way as the differences between the same human races, and in support of this they took another verse from Be-Midbar (13:21): “...how some of you get food by climbing trees...”.
And the victims of this heresy are now revered as martyrs, so we can say that everything ended more or less well.
And I was upset because this certain person was asking me how I could remain a Christian after Christians had previously cut off the Gearts’ tails. Unable to stand it, I asked in response: “how can you be a socialist if your great-great-grandfather was a kulak?” Well, at this point we finally quarreled.
Yesterday we just went to the city and had a really nice walk around it.
We just thought that we haven’t had any interesting documents for a long time - so here we go. A certain song in Proto-Digitian, apparently; but that’s not the point. Its text is maddeningly reminiscent of modern Duat An Hini A Garan (“The One I Love”) and fits perfectly with her own rhythm. Here is the text of our find (in the spelling I came up with on my knee):
O hennọ carwydho, cynti bychi trėvi,
Pan oydhemm oncwsson, ad ėnni gilydhi.
Men calonọ cėrėd, cėrėd onid unọn;
Pan oydhenne bychoh, 'n trėvi garwydho hennọh.
O hennọn carwydho colltw-mi wor vython,
Maghew aythydh pellon, a ne dhowhwlọd edwon.
A sylli: canw-mi, canw heb-diwėdhi,
A sylli: canw-mi, di garwydho hėnni.
O hennọ carwydho un-didhi me leyssydh,
Ayth di vrœghym pellam, brœghyn ne gonwynnwydh.
Ayth di vrœghym pellam, di arwraghon varon.
Un-didhi hi colltw-mi, carwydho hennọn.
Translation:
Oh, the one I love, before, little ones, at home,
When we were close to each other.
My heart loves, loves only one;
When I was little, in the house of the one I love.
Oh, the one I love, I lost forever,
It so happened that she went far away and would never return.
Look, I’m singing, I’m singing endlessly,
Look, I'm singing to the one I love.
Oh, the one I love, you left me one day
Gone to distant lands, a land I don’t know.
She went to distant lands to earn bread.
One day I lost her, the one I love.
And finally: two of my favorite performances of this very An Hini A Garan — plus, I tried to sing the first verse of our find. The quality is so-so, sorry =D
They have been building a house opposite me for some time now. Everything would be fine, but the builders constantly listen to perky OSSR pop music straight from the eighties. Five songs in a circle. Kill me.
I also photographed the creature again. People say it’s a wagtail, and I don’t argue with them: I know as much about birds as my culinary preferences allow.
So, well, here is finally what I wanted to show the day before yesterday.
I can’t understand whether this is universal irony, or some other similar game - but we found a recurve bow. With double shoulders.
Experts say that it is similar to the Glinnar bows of the 1st-8th centuries AD - except, of course, for the extra shoulders and size. He's really healthy. VERY healthy - definitely not for a person and hardly for an Alva. Most likely, for a geart - and transverse scratches (apparently from claws) on the handle confirm this.
The wood is white with large gray veins - it looks like lobnia. On the left is a drawing of how this bow looks now, on the right - how it will probably look if a bowstring is attached to it. Anticipating questions: yes, there is also a bowstring nearby, but we will not cling to it - some remnants of brains still remain in our heads.
I wanted to write something completely different today, but I’ll leave that for tomorrow. In the meantime, keep this: the third book of the Pentateuch of Ophith, Va-Iqra. I went on holiday to my paternal relatives in Western Rechan and suddenly found it in my great-great-aunt’s chest. Not particularly rare, of course, but the print quality is very good.
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