Even though I have never been one to feel I could ever become 'rooted in one dear perpetual place', age and the current economic woes have compelled me, in recent times, to search for a more permanent job in academia.Every time an opportunity arises, however, I get cold feet. The mere thought of spending the rest of my life in a small provincial town (and are there any permanent academic jobs elsewhere...?), stifled by administrative chores and bored silly with no one interesting to talk to fills my heart with dreams of wandering. The hell with dear perpetual places! The hell.
At iffy moments like these I find myself cherishing bygone ideals of scholarship, imagining how much more riveting and suited to my malcontent character, to my chronic detachment from money and status concerns, the life of one of those maverick medieval wandering scholars would have been.
A life wholly unconcerned with social and moral conventions as well as with the pettiness of local communities. A life wholly devoted to the pursuit of both knowledge and pleasure, beauty, love, as expressed through poetry, song, performance.
How far, far away modern scholarship has come from all this. And how dishearteaningly sad it is. Most definitely, I was born in the wrong age - too late in a world too old.
That is why the world of the Carmina Burana was in my mind a lot on this last trip to nowhere. Its touching, unruly poetry gently reminding me of what should truly matter in life, however difficult the choices and prospects may seem.
Lest I forget and bury myself in the sand once again.
Lest I forget thee.
* * *
Floret silva nobilis
floribus et foliis.
ubi est antiquus meus amicus?
hinc equitavit.
eia, quis me amabit?
floribus et foliis.
ubi est antiquus meus amicus?
hinc equitavit.
eia, quis me amabit?
Floret silva undique.
Nach mime gesellen ist mir we.
Gruonet der walt allenthalben,
wa ist min geselle also lange?
Der ist geriten hinnen.
Owi, wer sol mich minnen?
Nach mime gesellen ist mir we.
Gruonet der walt allenthalben,
wa ist min geselle also lange?
Der ist geriten hinnen.
Owi, wer sol mich minnen?
The noble forest is in bloom with flowers and leaves.
Where is my old companion?
He has ridden away.
Alas, who will love me?
The forest is in bloom on all sides.
I grieve for my companion.
The forest is green on all sides.
Why is my companion so long?
He has ridden away.
Alas, who will love me?
1 comment:
Compreendo-te bem. A vida de nomada tem as suas vantagens e desvantagens. Uma das vantagens consiste na facilidade de mudar algo.
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