Some cruel precursor
my furious question calls,
as the questing beast sleeps,
she is at the end
of the farthest horizon,
so far my gaze to exclude.
Her sadness, a mirror of humanity,
illusions to quell sovereignty.
Silence the profound quiet,
yet pensive thing of perplexity.
No one will be spared.
Her calm is a violent storm,
to quell the infinite silence
of the questing voice,
It is not dead, nor stagnant,
it is a gift, present and alive,
as the sun. Delight in the quest,
immense san grail of memory,
Do not frequent the dulcet questing beast.
This was a tricky prompt, I have posted it at the end. The questing beast seemed to speak from the Italian poem I chose to terribly translate to find a poem of sorts in it. Recent discussion with a Bard of Glastonbury have caused me to consider that Pellinor’s questing beast is a Giraffe … hence the image I have posted with this strange set of words that kind of make sense,
From Wikipedia ….
The Questing Beast, or the Beast Glatisant (Barking Beast), is a monster from Arthurian legend. It is the subject of quests undertaken by famous knights such as King Pellinore, Sir Palamedes, and Sir Percival.
The strange creature has the head and neck of a snake, the body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion, and the feet of a hart.Its name comes from the great noise that it emits from its belly, a barking like “thirty couple hounds questing”. ‘Glatisant’ is related to the French word glapissant, ‘yelping’ or ‘barking’, especially of small dogs or foxes.
The questing beast is a variant of the mythological medieval view on giraffes, whose generic name of Camelopardalisoriginated from their description of being half camel and half leopard.
Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle,
E questa siepe, che da tanta parte
Dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude.
Ma sedendo e mirando, interminati
Spazi di là da quella, e sovrumani
Silenzi, e profondissima quiete
Io nel pensier mi fingo; ove per poco
Il cor non si spaura. E come il vento
Odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello
Infinito silenzio a questa voce
Vo comparando: e mi sovvien l’eterno,
E le morte stagioni, e la presente
E viva, e il suon di lei. Cosi tra questa
Immensita s’annega il pensier mio:
E il naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare.
Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like the work in Translucence, reacts both to photography and to words in a language not your own. Begin with a photograph. Now find a poem in a language you don’t know (here’s a good place to look!) Ignore any accompanying English translation (maybe cover it up, or cut-and-paste the original into a new document). Now start translating the poem into English, with the idea that the poem is actually “about” your photograph. Use the look and feel of the words in the original to guide you along as you write, while trying to describe your photograph. It will be a bit of a balancing act, but hopefully it will lead to new and beautiful (and possibly very weird) places.