"illis" poems
I’m indebted to the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, 4th Edition 1996
**Ab Imo Pectore
A**b imo pectore,
Blandae mendacia linguae,
Cadit quaestio,
Desunt cetera.
E*st modus in rebus.
Faber est quisque fortunae suae,
Gigni de nihilo nihilum, in nihilum nil posse reverti.
Hic finis fandi,
Interdum stultus bene loquitur?
Jacta interdum est alea,
Labuntur et imputantur.
Magni nominis umbra,
Nec scire fas est omnia,
Omne crede diem tibi diluxisse supremun,
Pallida mors aequo pulsat pauperum tabernas regumque turres;
Quid rides, mutato nominee de te fibula narrator,
Res ipsa loquitur.
Solvitur ambulando…
Tempora mutantur, nos et matamur in illis.
Urbi et orbi,
Vestigia nulla retrorsum.*
From The Bottom Of The Heart
From the bottom of the heart, the falsehoods of a smooth tongue,
The question drops, the rest is wanting.
There is a balance in all things, every man is the creator of his own fate.
From nothing, nothing can come, into nothing, nothing can return.
Let there be an end to talking, for who can tell when a fool speaks the truth?
The die is sometimes already cast,
A moment comes and goes, and is laid to our account.
From the smallest shadow to the mightiest name,
No one can claim to know all things,
I believe that every day that dawns may be my last,
Pale death knocks impartially at both poor and rich men’s houses;
Don’t laugh, change the name and the story is yours,
It’s so obvious, it speaks for itself.
As the concept of motion is proven by walking…
So in time all things change, as we must, in time, all change.
And to all the world,
There’s no turning back.
Ab Imo Pectore / From The Bottom Of The Heart
Ab imo pectore,
From the bottom of the heart,
Blandae mendacia linguae,
The falsehoods of a smooth tongue,
Cadit quaestio,
The question drops,
Desunt cetera.
The rest is found wanting.
Est modus in rebus,
There is a balance in all things,
Faber est quisque fortunae suae.
Every man is the creator of his own fate.
Gigni de nihilo nihilum, in nihilum nil posse reverti.
From nothing, nothing can come, into nothing, nothing can return.
Hic finis fandi,
Let there be an end to talking,
Interdum stultus bene loquitur?
For who can tell when a fool speaks the truth?
Jacta interdum est alea.
The die is sometimes already cast,
Labuntur et imputantur.
A moment comes and goes, and is laid to our account.
Magni nominis umbra,
From the smallest shadow to the mightiest name,
Nec scire fas est omnia,
No one can claim to know all things,
Omne crede diem tibi diluxisse supremun,
I believe that every day that dawns may be my last,
Pallida mors aequo pulsat pauperum tabernas regumque turres;
Pale death knocks impartially at both poor man and rich men’s houses;
Quid rides, mutato nominee de te fibula narrator,
Don’t laugh, change the name and the story is yours,
Res ipsa loquitur.
It’s so obvious, that it speaks for itself.
Solvitur ambulando…
As the concept of motion is proven by walking…
Tempora mutantur, nos et matamur in illis.
So in time all things change, as we must, in time, all change.
Urbi et orbi,
And to all the world,
Vestigia nulla retrorsum.
There’s no turning back.
r10.1
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
Through the darkness I part the Veil,
And walk the hidden paths,
In the brightness beyond the pale,
I see what none have seen.
There's danger here in the world beyond,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
And all my days it waits for me,
The calling in my blood,
And through the years I walk the paths,
That very few have seen,
The Veil grows thin as years go by,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
Through the darkness I return again,
From those fair hidden paths,
And as I walk I learn to talk,
Like I once knew I could,
For few have been beyond the veil,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
~In the Gleam Beyond the Gloom by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, March 5, 2015
My attempt at translating it into Latin:
Velum parte post umbram,
Et ambulate per semitae occultae,
In splendóribus supra pallidus,
Non video quid viderim.
Non est hic mundus extra periculum,
In splendóribus post umbram.
Et omnibus diebus meis memet maneat
Vocatio in sanguine meo,
Et per annos ambulate semitae,
Valde pauci, quas vidi,
Velum crescit tenuis quod eunt anni,
In splendóribus post umbram.
Per tenebras revertentur
Ex his latet semitas occultae,
Et ego ambulo illis loquela,
Scientes semel ego potui,
Pauci abierunt trans velum,
In splendóribus post umbram.
And a translation of that Latin from an academic translation site:
And the hanging for the part after the shadow,
And walk by the ways of the hidden God,
In the brightness of beyond the pale,
I do not see what I saw,
He is not here the world is out of danger,
In the brightness after the shadow.
The call waits for me,
In my blood, and all my days,
And I will walk you through the years, the highways,
Very few men, that I have seen,
As the years go by the thin veil of the increases,
In the brightness after the shadow.
From these things it is hidden by the darkness,
They shall come again the paths of the hidden God,
And I, I walk the angels have speech,
Yet knowing that once I was able to,
They went to the other side of the veil of the few,
In the brightness after the shadow.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
A face of gold greets the night,
unblinking, timeless eyes brimmed with down of galest wings.
Beneath her motherly gaze, a pavane fills the court,
Figures two by two by cloth of silken web.
Dispersing and immersing footsteps of the fae,
glimmering ingot gates spread their arms out wide
to rejoice the coming of the twilight.
Shadowed forms stirring in the brush
wish to coalesce the revelry.
And as the music dwindles into reticence,
the sighing ******* of lovers entangled and mother suckling babe,
that which goes unseen by fools
kisses the brows of those who look.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
Untitled
It's again open season
Yet there remains no vacancy
No rooms for rest
Salmon kite
Days of nostalgia
Free float
Pure trist
Illis quotes Amber
The fungus grows larger
A beast and a rifle to burden this momentum
Falling through a mother's pine
One thousand banes in the form of love
A mother's work is never done
Ninth dynamic
Four hours and this is forged again
Silver screams heard through golden temples
Dust settles, the bricks fall
A mile of bone penetrates the pyramid
Bringing new forma of energy
Satan's toothpick
And sharp fur for another
Ghost conductor entering messages
Down there, he eats in fits of a slothful rage
In fits of overdosed shrubbery
***** clocks
Each hollows and fades you
Advanced romance as strands won't return
Dirt searches for your face in the midnight hours
Artificial chains
Lead by burns
Idolatry commencement
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 6:19 PM UTC
It's again open season
Yet there remains no vacancy
No rooms for rest
Salmon kite
Days of nostalgia
Free float
Pure trist
Illis quotes Amber
The fungus grows larger
A beast and a rifle to burden this momentum
Falling through a mother's pine
One thousand banes in the form of love
A mother's work is never done
Ninth dynamic
Four hours and this is forged again
Silver screams heard through golden temples
Dust settles, the bricks fall
A mile of bone penetrates the pyramid
Bringing new forms of energy
Satan's toothpick
And sharp fur for another
Ghost conductor entering messages
Down there, he eats in a fit of slothful rage
In fits of overdosed shrubbery
***** clocks
Each hollows and fades you
Advanced romance as strands won't return
Dirt searches for your face in the midnight hours
Artificial chains
Lead by burns
Idolatry commencement
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
A beating heart, a dream
A dying soul, shedding tear
Fueled with anger, blasphemes
A cast out, breeding hate
Not against man, not against God
Just a selfless strife
On the ways of man and the ways of God
Death is just one breath away,
While living far from lies,
True to self, and the others' lives
Vision so bright, invisible to man
But to this product,
Of blind hatred.
"Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis;
Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis."
Eater of Gods, this creature will be
The tortured, tolerator of pain
All his dreams gone, dead in vain
Yet breathing, to take your breath away
Not to avenge, but to clear
All the fake that is in us.
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 2:27 PM UTC
August Twenty Seventh
Debauchment of not long ago.
Enervate this new paling muse.
Summary onus, be not so open.
Stay alive, resist.
Strive with force.
Sap in the dark, in the hour.
Be entirely whole.
I am not.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
it's but the choir-imbued presence of god, and the vacuous presence of a devil that tempts me in both thought & deed, to attempt the puritanical testimony of evil... it's so quiet down in hell, you can even hear the devil think, and be made to testify as a schizoid fakery.
of men hell-bound,
so few are of stock
that might make them
interesting.
ex homines
obligatus infernum
paucci sic ex est truncus
id potentia illis facere
dulcis.
it's beyond testifying
"pig" latin, not porcus latin...
it's copernican latin -
given that the ancients wrote
like the modern arabs,
i.e. grammatically from
e.g. **** sapiens,
i.e. man wise -
i.e. wise man,
i.e. copernican with a wonder:
left to right,
or right to left?
is that dull-cheese though?
and is that fuck-er-er,
or foo-cciere?
i invoked the cappuccino for
the pau-ki...
but it's true:
the most interesting of men never
gravitate to fathom heaven,
or abide by a presence in such a realm:
the brilliant genius, or
puritanical evil leaves them
lost for words before the scorn of god...
no man of interest ever resides in heaven,
hell scolds god's wrath by
inviting all the interesting fellows
to its womb's abode -
question is:
where do all the ****** go?
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 9:57 PM UTC