Poem of the day

Baadster
by Louis Couperus (1863-1923)

Een blanke nymf steeg ze uit het marmren bad,
En toefde op de eerste treê; heur armen beurden
En wrongen ’t blonde hair, dat druipend nat
Nog van den amber der violen geurde.

Hoe ’t rozig-blond van ’t blozend rozeblad
De sneeuw haars teedren lichaams warmer kleurde,
Terwijl van paerlen vloeyende en omspat,
Zij lelie was, die in den dauwe treurde!

Daar stond ze, steunende op het slanke been,
Zoo, dat bevallig zich de heupe rondde,
Nu de armen hoog de dartle lokken bonden.

Daar stond ze, glanzend-wit als marmersteen,
Geheel omsluyerd in den korenblonde:
Antieke vaas met douden veile omwonden.

Views: 35

The pros and cons of Esperanto

I confess. I am a recovered Esperantist. Back in high school (approximately 45 years ago), I was an enthusiastic Esperantist, learned it, proselytized it, etc. Then I realized how useless it was and abandoned it. My Esperanto books gathered dust in bags in my parents’ attic and, more recently, in totes in a storage unit. Recently, when I was contemplating what language(s) to raise our son in (he just turned seven months old), I decided to reconsider Esperanto. Here are my conclusions on the pros and cons of the language.

Let me start with the cons since there is only one: it’s completely impractical and useless; it peaked more than fifty years ago and will never be adopted as an international auxiliary language or even be spoken by more than a tiny handful of language geeks. (For those who don’t know me, I’m a language geek.)

Now for the pros. First, it’s a remarkable intellectual achievement, a fully usable (not that very many will use it) language that really is easy to learn. I realized this a few months back when our son David was born and I was thinking of bringing him up multilingually. I read Latin reasonably well (but can’t speak it), speak passable (but far from fluent) French and German, wretched Spanish, and have a studied a number of other languages at one time or another (my undergraduate major was linguistics).* Among the books on my shelf (and not in the storage unit) was the Esperanto translation of Winnie The Pooh. I picked it up and found that I could read it with ease despite not having studied the language in over forty years.** I quickly realized that I could speak it better than I could speak Spanish (despite studying that language semi-intensively and quite recently). So I fell off the wagon and took up Esperanto again. Within weeks it was probably on par with my French and German (which I have studied and spoken for decades). And this was despite the lack of opportunity to practice speaking with anyone. I note that Esperanto’s perfect phoneticism (i.e., each letter stands for only one sound and each sound is represented by only one letter) means that in two or three years’ time, when David is ready to learn to read, it should be easier to do so in Esperanto than in almost any other language (especially English or French).

A number of studies (summarized here) have suggested another advantage to Esperanto: it’s a gateway language that makes other languages easier to learn. For example, a year of studying Esperanto followed by three years of studying French produced better proficiency in French than four years of studying French. I’m somewhat skeptical about this and wonder if almost any language would produce a similar effect. Certainly, my knowledge of Latin gained in high school made learning French in college easier. In any case, this effect is unlikely to apply (I think) to someone learning the languages from infancy.

Anyway, I decided to bring David up in five languages: English, Esperanto, French, German, and Spanish. I pick a different language every hour and try to use that exclusively during the hour.*** I’m not worried about his learning English since everyone else around him is speaking it and I have no idea how much, if anything, of the other languages he will eventually acquire. I do note that, as far as Esperanto, is concerned, he will be in good company learning it as an infant. George Soros grew up speaking Esperanto as did the Polgár sisters (I’m not planning to push chess, or any other particular subjects on him, unless he shows an interest; I’m no László Polgár).

* I have often remarked that this makes me a linguistic whizz by American standards and a linguistic klutz by European standards (and, I suspect, by the standards of most of the world although my experience is generally limited to Europeans).

** I did touch on Esperanto in my law school thesis and briefly looked at it then (concluding that it would not help the European Community [as it was then known] with its language problems). See, Huntington, European Unity and the Tower of Babel, 9 B.U. Int’l L.J. 321 (1991).

*** Of course, I have to confess that I am also doing this for my benefit, i.e., in the hope that it will reverse (or at least slow) the atrophying of my linguistic abilities.

Views: 170

People are already moving to different places

See, e.g., this and this and with more climate refugees to come. It’s even happening in this country. Unfortunately, these poor people do not meet the definition of refugee under U.S. or international law (where the inability to return home has to be on account of “race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group.”

Secretary of State Mike Pompeo downplayed climate change as a longstanding trend, suggesting that that modern societies could adapt to a changing environment, possibly with people moving to different places.

Views: 40

Poem of the day

Litany to the Holy Spirit
by Robert Herrick (1691-1574)

In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown’d in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the artless doctor sees
No one hope, but on his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When his potion and his pill
Has, or none, or little skill,
Meet for nothing, but to kill ;
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the passing bell doth toll,
And the furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,
’Cause my speech is now decayed,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knows, I’m toss’d about,
Either with despair, or doubt ;
Yet before the glass be out,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tempter me pursu’th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the judgment is reveal’d,
And that open’d which was seal’d,
When to Thee I have appeal’d,
            Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

Views: 26

Game of the week

Bill Goichberg was a very promising young player in the 1970s when he apparently decided that organizing tournaments was a better way to make a living than playing in them and so became chess’s greatest entrepreneur.

Views: 30

Poem of the day

L’Apparition
by Marguerite Yourcenar (1903-1987)

Dans le xyste où rêvait sa jeunesse immortelle,
L’éphèbe Antinoos aux jardins de Tibur
Vit, parmi les débris détachés de sa stèle,
Les ronces l’envahir sous l’impassible azur.

À l’heure où les ramiers, d’un lourd battement d’aile,
Font trembler l’ombre claire aux blancheurs du vieux mur,
Seul, le tiède baiser de la clarté fidèle
Consolait la Statue au geste calme et pur.

Les siècles ont détruit cette image mystique
Et terni la candeur du marbre éblouissant.
Qu’importe… Je revois le bel Adolescent:

Il monte avec lenteur les degrés du portique,
Et, posant ses pieds nus sur le sable vermeil,
Revit pour un instant et s’étire au soleil. …

Views: 32

Poem of the day

Der Tod
by Friedrich Hölderlin (1770-1843)

Er erschreckt uns
Unser Retter, der Tod. Sanft kommt er,
Leis’ im Gewölke des Schlafs.

Aber er bleibt fürchterlich, und wir sehn nur
Nieder ins Grab ob er gleich uns zur Vollendung
Führt aus Hüllen der Nacht hinüber
In der Erkenntnisse Land.

Views: 36