Phaedrus

    Socrates: (cont.) from which, saying farewell and letting these be, and being persuaded by the customary belief,

    // 230α

    ὅθεν δὴ χαίρειν ἐάσας ταῦτα, πειθόμενος δὲ τῷ νομιζομένῳ περὶ αὐτῶν

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) it appears to me really laughable, not yet knowing this, to examine (skopein) alien things (allotria)

    // 229ε

    γελοῖον δή μοι φαίνεται τοῦτο ἔτι ἀγνοοῦντα τὰ ἀλλότρια σκοπεῖν

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) i am not yet able, according to the Delphic inscription (gramma), to know myself

    // 229ε

    οὐ δύναμαί πω κατὰ τὸ Δελφικὸν γράμμα γνῶναι ἐμαυτόν

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) and the cause, O beloved, of this, is this

    // 229ε

    τὸ δὲ αἴτιον, ὦ φίλε, τούτου τόδε

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) but for me, there is no leisure (schole) at all for these things

    // 229ε

    ἐμοὶ δὲ πρὸς αὐτὰ οὐδαμῶς ἐστι σχολή

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) he will lack much leisure (schole) for himself

    // 229ε

    πολλῆς αὐτῷ σχολῆς δεήσει

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) as if consulting (chraein) some kind of rustic (agroikos) wisdom

    // 229ε

    ἅτε ἀγροίκῳ τινὶ σοφίᾳ χρώμενος

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) if someone, distrusting these, will make each come nearer to a likening (eikos)

    // 229ε

    αἷς εἴ τις ἀπιστῶν προσβιβᾷ κατὰ τὸ εἰκὸς ἕκαστον

    //

    diptych oceanic amechanica

    hysteriac at home

    woe! i am a not altogether fortunate woman
    my pocket seams with potsherds polishing
    a bag of skin trailing portentous signs
    and i am broken news, my sand is yellow

    to find my edge, i walk into the sea
    her seaweed briarpatch of gorgons birth
    surrendered sky by pegasi recovery
    as mermaids sing flat edges for my shanty

    woe! her thanatos uncanny, even for me
    the horizon roars for blessing every line
    shore smashing every bauble blending shades
    soft seashells made tangible the breast of ocean

    and time is a tangent tracing its beloved snail
    and the cradle failing of her continental tail
    and she is drawing, drawing, under seasons wax
    pink salty glowing in her seamless milk cocoon

    woe, woe! my every mask a bending earth
    reflowing throng of placeless impossibility
    and desires every glance she didn’t chase yet
    my marbles rolling in her depthless pocket

    //

    uteri

    get em hot
    skim cooling

    like sumber bor
    in 12 hrs or more
    chocolate lava cake
    stone melting

    tropic shiver
    truly your

    earth dwelling
    tacky decor
    tasteless tasty

    ova in—
    ice tailor—
    screaming

    wicked

    //

    . . .

    oh no!

    dessert
    amazing

    1, 2, 3, ho!

    smashing
    to order

    . . .

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) and then out flows a throng of things such as Gorgons and Pegasuses and multitudes of additional impossibilities (a-mechanos) and of such things giving birth (phuein) to placeless (a-topia) storytellings of monsters (teratologos) . . .

    //

    καὶ ἐπιρρεῖ δὲ ὄχλος τοιούτων Γοργόνων καὶ Πηγάσων καὶ ἄλλων ἀμηχάνων πλήθη τε καὶ ἀτοπίαι τερατολόγων τινῶν φύσεων

    //

    Plato coins “teratologos” from teras and logos; teras means a sign, marvel, wonder, divine sign, omen, portent, or monster. So teratologoi are words, accounts, stories, arguments, or reckonings about signs, marvels, wonders, divine signs, oments, portents, or monsters.

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) for no other reason than that for him it’s necessary after this to straighten out (epanorthousthai) the form (eidos) of the Hippocentaurs, and then again that of the Chimaera,

    // 229δ

    κατ᾽ ἄλλο μὲν οὐδέν, ὅτι δ᾽ αὐτῷ ἀνάγκη μετὰ τοῦτο τὸ τῶν Ἱπποκενταύρων εἶδος ἐπανορθοῦσθαι, καὶ αὖθις τὸ τῆς Χιμαίρας

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) yet they belong to an exceedingly terrible (deinos) and laborious (epiponos) and not altogether (panu) fortunate (eutuches) man

    // 229δ

    ἐγὼ δέ, ὦ Φαῖδρε, ἄλλως μὲν τὰ τοιαῦτα χαρίεντα ἡγοῦμαι, λίαν δὲ δεινοῦ καὶ ἐπιπόνου καὶ οὐ πάνυ εὐτυχοῦς ἀνδρός

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) as for me, O Phaedrus, while otherwise i suppose such as these to be graceful,

    // 229δ

    ἐγὼ δέ, ὦ Φαῖδρε, ἄλλως μὲν τὰ τοιαῦτα χαρίεντα ἡγοῦμαι

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) —or else from the hill of Ares; for this word (logos) is also said, that she was carried away from that place and not from here

    // 229δ

    —ἢ ἐξ Ἀρείου πάγου: λέγεται γὰρ αὖ καὶ οὗτος ὁ λόγος, ὡς ἐκεῖθεν ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἐνθένδε ἡρπάσθη

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) and in this way it ended up (teleutein) said that she came to be (gignomai) carried away by Boreas

    // 229ξ

    καὶ οὕτω δὴ τελευτήσασαν λεχθῆναι ὑπὸ τοῦ Βορέου ἀνάρπαστον γεγονέναι

    //

    Socrates: (cont.) then i would wisely (sophein) declare that it was the wind itself of Boreas that thrust her down from the nearby rocks as she was playing with Pharmakeia

    // 229ξ

    εἶτα σοφιζόμενος φαίην αὐτὴν πνεῦμα Βορέου κατὰ τῶν πλησίον πετρῶν σὺν Φαρμακείᾳ παίζουσαν ὦσαι

    //

    Pharmakeia is not associated with a known mythological figure; her name means drug, remedy, poison, or witchcraft.

    //

    Socrates: well if i distrusted, as do the wise (hoi sophoi), then i wouldn’t be placeless (atopos)

    // 229ξ

    ἀλλ᾽ εἰ ἀπιστοίην, ὥσπερ οἱ σοφοί, οὐκ ἂν ἄτοπος εἴην

    //

    Phaedrus: truly (alethes) the strongest way for me, by far, is to speak however I am able; as you seem to me someone who will in no way let me go, until I say something or other

    Socrates: since i seem entirely true (alethes) to you

    Phaedrus: therefore, so shall i do (poie-o). and really, O Socrates, it’s mostly that i haven’t thoroughly learned the sayings (rhema); but actually the thought (dianoia), of nearly all the ways he asserted that the lover (era-o) differs from the non-; I shall go through the chief points of each in order, beginning from the first—

    Socrates: if you would first disclose, O friend (philotes), what it is you have (echo / echis) in the left hand (aristeros) under your cloak. for i guess that you are holding the speech (logos) itself; and if this is so, then think (dianoe-o) about me in this way— that while i love (phile-o) you completely, if Lysias too is present, it hasn’t seemed completely right to supply myself for you to practice on (emmeleta-o); but come on, show it! (deiknumi)

    Phaedrus: stop! (pau-o) you’ve beaten me back (ekkrou-o) from my hope, O Socrates, that i would get to exercise on you; but where do you wish us to sit down and read? (anagignosko)

    Socrates: turning aside there, let’s go along the Illissus; and then we’ll sit down wherever it seems (doke-o) to be in a stillness (hesuchia)

    Phaedrus: good timing (kairos), it seems, that i happen to be barefoot; of course, you are always; so it’s easy for us to go down the little river getting our feet wet, and not unpleasant, especially at this season of the year and hour of the day

    Socrates: go ahead then and look for anyplace we might sit

    Phaedrus: then do you see that lofty platanos tree?

    Socrates: well, what?

    Phaedrus: there is shade there and a measured breeze (pneuma), and grass to sit on, or if we wish to lie down

    Socrates: if you would lead

    Phaedrus: tell me, O Socrates, isn’t it from someplace here by the Ilisus, it’s said that Boreas carried off Oreithyia?

    Socrates: so it’s said

    Phaedrus: isn’t it from this place? anyway the waters appear graceful and clear and transparent and made (epitedeios) for girls to play (paizein) beside it

    Socrates: no, but some two or three stades down, where we cross over toward the one in Agra; and somewhere around there in that spot is an altar of Boreas

    Phaedrus: i’ve never really thought about it; (noein) but tell me by Zeus, O Socrates, are you persuaded that this myth-speech (mythologema) is true?

    // 228ξ to 229ξ

    the river lapis lazuli

    no, O shining one; blue is not that place
    where winter did reach down with hoarfrost arms
    bent bones to bruise the springtime of your face
    and turn bare beauty’s promise into grief

    real damage there was done; i can’t pretend
    my drunk neither forgets, nor lying, amends
    that hunting season waiting down our tears
    cool river measures turquoise, there to here

    still no; blue shall not sing by Tristan’s chord
    raw wounding round its thralling emptiness
    how many months hungering that underworld
    she spends, grave daughter, eating bitter ashes

    if she is me, let sapphire be my child by you
    whose ugly was the laughing sky of love
    my labyrinth, your golden through-and-through
    soft multitudes, the movements of your dying

    and no; your course was not a trap for girls
    exquisite river lapis lazuli
    blue hemlock was your legendary cure
    a momentary how it is, it is

    azure, just piece enough for memory
    what graces by your leaves still green in me
    this grove might tender shelter; with blue to show
    by silence of the tree who names it so

    //

    selamat purnama 🌕

    //

    & ten candles

    on my horse loverly
    logician patrician
    still finishing his still
    blue earthy pastel
    for brave accompany
    her genus differentia
    mycelia mysteria
    her lightest touches
    dear puffins, potatoes
    & tatami gauze

    //

    Phaedrus: (cont.) but tell me by Zeus, O Socrates, are you persuaded that this myth-speech (mythologema) is true?

    // 229ξ

    ἀλλ᾽ εἰπὲ πρὸς Διός, ὦ Σώκρατες, σὺ τοῦτο τὸ μυθολόγημα πείθῃ ἀληθὲς εἶναι;

    //

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