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Ep. 10 Invocation to Polyhymnia
Manage episode 181491241 series 1436154
Sisällön tarjoaa Joris Planck. Joris Planck tai sen podcast-alustan kumppani lataa ja toimittaa kaiken podcast-sisällön, mukaan lukien jaksot, grafiikat ja podcast-kuvaukset. Jos uskot jonkun käyttävän tekijänoikeudella suojattua teostasi ilman lupaasi, voit seurata tässä https://fi.player.fm/legal kuvattua prosessia.
Episode 10 will showcase one of Joris' invocations that sporadically appear within his sermons.
His "Invocation to Polyhymnia" is both a poem and an act of devotion to the muse of meditation, pantomime, and eloquence.
Transcription of Joris:
"I sing the praise of Polyhymnia:
Dame most dower, dame of word and dance,
Who has the cheeks of cherubs and the arms
Of nereids about the jagged rocks.
Thou art the power that can o’erswell the mouths
Of poets. Thou art she whose pantomime
Convinces us that even silence speaks.
Thou art my muse most favored. And, by your robes,
Of alabaster white and honeyed thread,
Do I commit my song. Your fatted mouth
From which spill words exuberantly, is a fount—
Nay, cataract, in a prehistoried land
Which floods the basin of a verdant wood.
Lift not thy finger thus if it's to hush.
Seal not thine orifice, unless it is
To stop yourself from growing more thine waist.
Instead give us your guidance to escape
This savagery to lands where dwell the men
And women who speak lovely as thou art.
Let's drink to lands like these. Let's drink and sing
To beauty and things beautiful, for what's
The point of beauty if we’ve no words to praise it."
Dame most dower, dame of word and dance,
Who has the cheeks of cherubs and the arms
Of nereids about the jagged rocks.
Thou art the power that can o’erswell the mouths
Of poets. Thou art she whose pantomime
Convinces us that even silence speaks.
Thou art my muse most favored. And, by your robes,
Of alabaster white and honeyed thread,
Do I commit my song. Your fatted mouth
From which spill words exuberantly, is a fount—
Nay, cataract, in a prehistoried land
Which floods the basin of a verdant wood.
Lift not thy finger thus if it's to hush.
Seal not thine orifice, unless it is
To stop yourself from growing more thine waist.
Instead give us your guidance to escape
This savagery to lands where dwell the men
And women who speak lovely as thou art.
Let's drink to lands like these. Let's drink and sing
To beauty and things beautiful, for what's
The point of beauty if we’ve no words to praise it."
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