ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 6

 Week of Love

6th of December - Cupid and Psyche

Once upon a time,

the god of love himself fell in love

with his mother's mortal rival.

Aphrodite would only take Psyche for an in-law

and give her and Cupid her blessing

if the human girl completed a series of labours

(like a female Theseus or Hercules).

Psyche took the wool from fire-breathing rams,

the wool they had left on the thorns.

Zeus' Eagle helped her fill her pitcher

from a waterfall guarded by dragons.

But the last task was the most daunting:

"Descend to the realm of the dead

and bring me a pot of Persephone's beauty cream," 

said Aphrodite, determined.

Psyche geared herself up for the Underworld:

she brought money for Charon to cross the Styx,

a half dozen doggy biscuits for Cerberus

(three for the journey there, three for the return),

and ate nothing that Hades and Persephone gave her

(otherwise she would have stayed in their dark realm).

On the journey home, however,

she was intrigued, as curious as Pandora,

and opened the tiny pot of beauty cream.

Psyche plunged instantly into deep slumber:

the beauty of Persephone is

the beauty of Death itself.

Cupid found out and woke her up

with a true love's kiss,

just like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty.

And Aphrodite was so moved by their love

that she gave the young couple her blessing.

They got married with great pomp on Olympus,

and she got butterfly wings, like he has feathered wings,

so they now can fly together through the skies.

Cupid and Psyche, the Flesh and the Soul,

who needed one another, were united

to live happily ever after.

A FREDRIKSHALD LULLABY - BILINGUAL

 A FREDRIKSHALD LULLABY

By Rudyard Kipling - adaptation by Sandra Dermark

How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from a little child at play?
     What makes you want to wander there with all the world between?
   Oh, Mother, call your little Charles or else he’ll run away.
     (No one thinks of winter when the grass is green!)

   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from a fight in Latvia?

     I haven’t time to answer now—the men are falling fast.
   The guns begin to thunder, and the drums begin to beat
     (If you take the first step you will take the last!)

   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from a peace in Saxony? 
     I cannot see—I cannot tell—the crowns they dazzle so.
   The lords sit down to dinner, and the ladies stand up to dance.
     (After open weather you may look for snow!)

   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from confronting a great Czar?
     A longish way—a longish way—with ten year more to run.
   It’s east across the water underneath a setting star.
     (What you cannot finish you must leave undone!)Ñ

   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from dishonouring defeat?
     An ill way—a chill way—the ice begins to crack.
   But not so far for gentlemen who never took advice.
     (When you can’t go forward you must e’en come back!)

   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from the pier down in Stralsund?

     A near way—a clear way—the ship will take you soon.
   A pleasant place for gentlemen with little left to do.
     (Morning never tries you till the afternoon!)

   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, to the Gate of Heaven’s Grace?
     That no one knows—that no one knows—and no one ever will.
   But fold your hands across your heart and cover up your face,
     And after all your traipsings, dear child, lie still!

...............................

EN VAGGVISA OM FREDRIKSHALD

Sandra Dermark, den 6 februari MMXVIII

in signo Aquarii

Dedicerad till Uttam Paudel och till Mona Utsten.

Vae victis!

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till ett barn som leker krig?

Vad får dig att vilja vandra dit, hela världen vid och skön?

Åh, mor, ropa på din lille Karl, ty ni råkas ej igen…

(Vem tänker på vintern när allt gräs är grönt?)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till en strid vid Östersjön?

Manskap stupar här och var… för ett svar har jag ej tid!

Kanonerna hörs dundra i takt med pukor och gevär…

(Efter första steget är det slut på frid!)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till ett sachsiskt fredsfördrag?

Kan ej se… kan ej förtälja… det strålar överallt!

Till bords sätter sig ädlingar, hovdamer svajar i dans…

(Efter vackert väder lär det bli så kallt!)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till en drabbning mot en tsar?

En lång, lång väg, en lång lång väg, ett par tre fyr år till.

Det är över stäppen, österut, dit där skrider en ny sol…

(Fullborda det du har gjort, oavsett om du vill!

)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till en vedervärdig flykt?

En björneväg… en törneväg… en väg över den strida ström…

Goda råd är dyra: äran släcker ingen törst…

(Ingen återvändo: ivrigt kalken töm!)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till kajen i Stralsund?

En snar väg… en klar väg… du kommer strax: är du säll?

En fredlig plats där fältherrar blir overksamma en stund…

(Dagen prövar ej oss tills den har blivit kväll!)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till himmelrikets port?

Ingen visste, ingen vet, och ingen lär veta få…

Lägg händerna på hjärtat, fint uppvikta, och somna in…

(Efter alla hyss, mitt barn, ligg still och sov!) 

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 5

 Week of Love

5th of December - Pietà vaticana

Did he really die for LOVE,

after so much excruciating pain?

He was mourned and hearts broke,

stabbed by sorrow, for his sake.

He may have died for our love 

but he may have died in vain:

for we keep on doing wrong.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 4

 Week of Love

4th of December - Birth of Aphrodite 

About them (Uranus' severed private parts) a white (sea-)foam grew from the immortal flesh, and in it a girl formed. First she approached holy Kythera; then from there she came to sea-girt Cyprus. And out stepped this modest and beautiful goddess, and grass began to grow all round beneath her slender feet. Gods and mortals call her Aphrodite, because she was formed in foam (aphros), and Kytherea, because she approached Kythera, and Cyprus-born, because she was born in wave-washed Cyprus.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 3

 

Week of Death

3rd of December - Isabella 

Ever since Mamma and Papà died

in mysterious circumstances (poisoning?)

when I was only five,

I have always been intimate with Death.

My three older brothers,

Osso, Mastrosso, and Carcagnosso,

are my guardians and run the family business 

(you would not even guess what it is,

but it employs half the population here in Messina town).

My beloved Lorenzo, that adorable valet,

so charming and so cute,

did not return from his errand in Palermo.

I thought he had left me for another girl

when his ghost, with his severed head under his arm,

haunted me a fortnight ago.

He told me hitmen sent by my three brothers

(apparently, a servant was not good enough a suitor)

beheaded and buried him in the pinewoods.

So off I stole there in secret with a knapsack,

unearthed and took his severed head,

and now it fertilises a basil plant,

buried in the plant pot.

It is the same basil that our cooks put in our pasta,

and sometimes I water it with my tears

while thinking about how my darling Renzo was betrayed.

Oh, if only my brothers Osso, Mastrosso, and Carcagnosso

knew, while scarfing down pasta al pesto at the table,

what leaves the pesto is made of!

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR: DAY 2

 

Week of Death

2nd of December - Gustavus Adolphus 

Since it is Sagittarius season and Gustavus Adolphus and Queen Christina have both of their birthdays coming up...

Inspired by thirst

for glory, on the field of battle quaffed

instead death's bitter draught.

The last word was missing in his epic song:

the word that crowns every achievement.

The mourners have done their duty, right or wrong:

they wrote it in blood and bereavement.

He left us when we (and he) expected it the least, 

in the prime of his life and at the climax of his career,

before he could be tarnished by the failing vigour of an older age

or by the corruption brought upon him by success. 

A single bullet, just like any other, 

suddenly struck his back and entered his noble chest, 

to quench a flame that never could or should have burned brighter.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR 1: OPHELIA

Week of Death

1st of December - Ophelia

 Ophelia by Millais

A LETTER FROM ELSINORE TO PARIS:

Dearest Laertes,

your sister was not entirely sane:

she kept on doling out weeds to all of us

while singing nursery rhymes,

and therefore, when trying to get a water-lily

beneath the willow that grows by the lake,

she slipped on a rock and her gown was fully drenched,

falling into the lake, and 

the Näkki spirited her away.

We are so sad you lost the only family you have left.

Sincerely,

Queen Gertrude and King Claudius.

THE TRUTH ABOUT OPHELIA:

My older brother's gone to France

to teach French ladies how to dance...

and all my violets have wilted.

Have some rue for my regrets, for I rue the day

that I began loving Prince Hamlet,

who set sail for Mercia and Northumbria 

not long ago.

That Näkki-rose, that water-lily,

that grows in the shade of the weeping willow,

would look lovely on Mama's and Papa's grave,

(ah, if they were alive and understood me!)

so I headed for the lake.

And, as I knelt by the little pier there,

I heard the Näkki play the violin...

He is so handsome,

in spite of his webbed hands and feet,

and the gills frilled like a collar round his neck...

When he fiddled, I sang old sagas and nursery rhymes.

One look, one tune, and we understood

that we were kindred spirits,

both of us outsiders,

neither one wanted in the human realm.

So I gathered my courage and took the plunge,

my gown and apron drenched, I pulled down to the bottom,

I felt both my clothes and flesh melt away,

even as the guards fished up my lifeless corpse.

Now I am another ghost of Elsinore,

married to a freshwater merman beneath the lake,

and the Näkki loves me like no one ever has,

and he understands me like no one ever has.

Merfolk can live for centuries, after all,

and our relationship is certainly

a happily ever after.