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argentnoelleI set a challenge-ish sort of thing for myself to read a whole bunch of literature that I've never read, always meant to read, maybe, but never got around to. I'm defining classic pretty broadly here... like, anything that isn't totally contemporary, probably, and is well-known; though I'm sure there will end up being exceptions even to that.
I don't actually know why I decided to start with this story. I actually began reading it a number of years ago, and never got very far into it, but I remembered it being good. It's a Georgian epic poem written in the 12th century by the poet Shota Rustaveli for Queen Tamar, who was the ruler of the country. It was apparently very well received, and there were all sorts of paintings based off of it and it became the kind of poem that everyone knew. [wikipedia]
I had saved the translation I originally started reading it in, but did a bit of googling and found one which kept the story in verse and rhyme, like the original, by Lyn Coffin: [here] It's actually not that different of a translation but I didn't find it as interesting to read. I don't think the rhymes come off as well in English. So the translation I decided to go with was the one I originally found, by Marjorie Scott Wardrop [here], which puts the poem into prose, but one of the things that's nice about it is it gives a bit more space for the imagery.
And speaking of imagery: so far only having read the introduction and the first two chapters (of 47), everybody's crying crystal tears, there are lots of descriptions of eyelashes, which is a bit odd but I suppose it goes with the tears (and everyone's eyelashes are jet); one of the protagonists, Avt'handil, is going on a quest to find the mysterious man in the panther (or whatever it is) skin at the behest of his beloved, T'hinat'hin (who has either been crowned queen or has just been announced as the king's heir, although I'm pretty certain it's the former).
The reason this knight was seen in the first place is that Avt'handil was having an archery competition with T'hinat'hin's father and they saw the dude crying all by himself and when they tried to get him to come over he instead fled and killed all the slaves the king sent after him to fight him... which is pretty bad. But I'm not sure what it is about this man that preoccupied first the king and then his daughter so much. Oh well!
Regarding descriptions again, really, everything is compared to jewels. It's pretty cool, and not something I've seen done with this much frequency anywhere else?
quotes so far:
from intro: "in a few words he utters a long discourse: herein lies the excellence of poetry... he who utters, somewhere, one or two verses cannot be called a poet; let him not think himself equal to great singers. Even if they compose a few discrepant verses from time to time, yet if they say, "Mine are of the best!" they are stiff-necked mules. Secondly, lyrics which are but a small part of poetry and cannot command heart-piercing words--I may liken them to the bad bows of young hunters who cannot kill big game; they are able only to slay the small. Thirdly, lyrics are fit for the festive, the joyous, the amorous, the merry, for pleasantries of comrades; they please us when they are rightly sung. Those are not called poets who cannot compose a long work."
from 2: "wrathful was the king; and annoyed"
— Avt'handil to T'hinat'hin: "those who gaze upon thee become mad; my heart is burned to ashes by the fire that comes from thee."
I don't actually know why I decided to start with this story. I actually began reading it a number of years ago, and never got very far into it, but I remembered it being good. It's a Georgian epic poem written in the 12th century by the poet Shota Rustaveli for Queen Tamar, who was the ruler of the country. It was apparently very well received, and there were all sorts of paintings based off of it and it became the kind of poem that everyone knew. [wikipedia]
I had saved the translation I originally started reading it in, but did a bit of googling and found one which kept the story in verse and rhyme, like the original, by Lyn Coffin: [here] It's actually not that different of a translation but I didn't find it as interesting to read. I don't think the rhymes come off as well in English. So the translation I decided to go with was the one I originally found, by Marjorie Scott Wardrop [here], which puts the poem into prose, but one of the things that's nice about it is it gives a bit more space for the imagery.
And speaking of imagery: so far only having read the introduction and the first two chapters (of 47), everybody's crying crystal tears, there are lots of descriptions of eyelashes, which is a bit odd but I suppose it goes with the tears (and everyone's eyelashes are jet); one of the protagonists, Avt'handil, is going on a quest to find the mysterious man in the panther (or whatever it is) skin at the behest of his beloved, T'hinat'hin (who has either been crowned queen or has just been announced as the king's heir, although I'm pretty certain it's the former).
The reason this knight was seen in the first place is that Avt'handil was having an archery competition with T'hinat'hin's father and they saw the dude crying all by himself and when they tried to get him to come over he instead fled and killed all the slaves the king sent after him to fight him... which is pretty bad. But I'm not sure what it is about this man that preoccupied first the king and then his daughter so much. Oh well!
Regarding descriptions again, really, everything is compared to jewels. It's pretty cool, and not something I've seen done with this much frequency anywhere else?
quotes so far:
from intro: "in a few words he utters a long discourse: herein lies the excellence of poetry... he who utters, somewhere, one or two verses cannot be called a poet; let him not think himself equal to great singers. Even if they compose a few discrepant verses from time to time, yet if they say, "Mine are of the best!" they are stiff-necked mules. Secondly, lyrics which are but a small part of poetry and cannot command heart-piercing words--I may liken them to the bad bows of young hunters who cannot kill big game; they are able only to slay the small. Thirdly, lyrics are fit for the festive, the joyous, the amorous, the merry, for pleasantries of comrades; they please us when they are rightly sung. Those are not called poets who cannot compose a long work."
from 2: "wrathful was the king; and annoyed"
— Avt'handil to T'hinat'hin: "those who gaze upon thee become mad; my heart is burned to ashes by the fire that comes from thee."
