THANK YOU FOR GIFFING THIS. THE HANDS ON THE FACE OH BB PETEY.
How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind’s labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not language but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.
Jack Gilbert, “The Forgotten Dialects of the Heart”
I went searching through old written things last night and found this poem again which is always THE BEST. “My joy is the same as twelve / Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.” Every time; dude, every time, that hits me in the right spot. It’s the same rhythm as my favorite Donne lines: “If they be two, they are two so / As stiff twin compasses are two / Thy soul, the fix’d foot, makes no show / To move, but doth, if th’ other do.”(via notnadia)
a text post filled with “i love you”
in different languages!!
so here we go.
I love you
jeg elsker dig
aku cinta kamu
ich liebe dich
Ik hou van je
Here’s my wifi password.
let me buy that cosplay for you
ill buy you pokemon x and y
i’m gonna handstitch this life size plush of your favorite character
there’s always timeheart
You can always find me in the drift.
Keiko Fukuda Shihan passed away yesterday at the age of 99. She was the last surviving student of the founder of judo, Jigoro Kano, and the highest ranking female judoka in history. She was promoted to 10th dan (degree) black belt just last year, a rank that at the time was held only by 3 other people, all men living in Japan. Fukuda Shihan left her homeland and refused marriage to achieve her dreams of training in judo, constantly battling gender discrimination which kept her from being promoted as quickly as men less skilled than her. “As far as I know, no one has lived their life completely for judo as I have.”