Again, thank each and every one of you for kind words and support. After a few days, Dad changed his directives, and we are looking for a Hospice solution. He’s got, they say, days to weeks. When he changed his mind, it was 3 AM, and family got called to ICU. They turned off drip that was trying to support increased blood pressure. I think that Dad expected that having made his decision and bought his ticket, that he was on the express platform, and the train would soon be by. A couple of days later, he’s more than somewhat irritated that he’s got to wait for the local to show up…
With other family helping I felt able to return home until the weekend (unless called) to be able to vote, check the fish tank, make sure that I did not need a kayak for the basement (Its been rainy), and to cover some client appointments. I’ll be going back for the weekend.
Dad is a retired professor of Spanish, and specialist in South American and Argentine literature, however because of his influence, I’ve always been drawn to the Coplas of Jorge Manrique, from the Spanish golden age. His most famous lines from section III in his elegy to his Father:
Nuestras vidas son los ríos
que van a dar al mar,
que es el morir;
allí van los señoríos
derechos a se acabar
y consumir;
allí los ríos caudales,
allí los otros medianos
y más chicos;
allegados, son iguales
los que viven por sus manos
y los ricos.
My translation for those who don’t speak Spanish:
Our lives are the rivers flowing to the sea of death
There go the great ones rushing to the end
And there, smaller rivers, streams and brooks.
At the end they’re all the same
Those who lived by their hands, and the rich.
As Friedrich Hölderlin wrote we all are simply as sea waves, coming and going.
I hope everything will be as smooth as possible.
If ever any difficult or doubt just drop me a line, please.
Hugs brother.
Not surprising. I’ve felt it since I first heard it when I was about 15 or so. And Jorge Manrique wrote it to celebrate the death of his Father, Rodrigo Manrique who died November 14th, 1476. I imagine they’ll still be reverberating in another 550 years.
Note added later.
Most of the English translations are awful, even Longfellow’s. They often try to match rhyme or meter, both of which have problems. Or they get flowery or add imagery that is just not in the original. That stanza III that I posted is just perfect. Great economy of words, and gorgeous use of assonance rhyme, which doesn’t exist in English. I’ve seen poets discuss how to translate, and they seem to think that English words are about 20% more efficient in terms of syllable count. I think they are sadly mistaken as Spanish is a syllable-timed language and English a stress-timed one. I’ve tried to translate it many times, and just don’t know what to do with it.
My last line, for example is a fairly exact translation, but hardly poetic. I’ve seen it rendered as “workers in the field or rich and free”. Well that’s sorta poetic, but “free” doesn’t cut it. Maybe, “In the end, we’re all the same, sons of workers or sons of wealth”. That’s closer to the spirit of the thing, but you have to know we’re talking “sons” meaning members of a class and not literal sons.
Maybe I should consult @SenyorC, who’s reviews are in both English and Spanish, but only has to deal with technical language.
It’s over, he’s gone. At the end, he wanted to go. Dad’s original plan for passing had been: at the age of 130 to have been caught en flagrante, and shot by the jealous husband. I will do my best to live up to his standards. Perhaps you see some of where I got my sense of humor.
I’ll try to check in daily which should be easy with a cellphone. The Devotee badge takes no excuses.
