つい最近「They shall not grow old」という映画を観た．ニュージーランド・英国の合作であるこの映画はThe Great War、つまり第一次世界大戦のさなかに撮影された映像を現代に再編集したドキュメンタリーである．監督はPeter Jackson氏．「指輪物語」の映像化で有名な人物である．氏の祖父が大戦に従軍したことも大きいのか、かなりの資料から抽出した映像と音声は語り得ぬものと語り得るものをうまく融合させ、当時の空気感を現代に再帰させている．なにかと「AIでフルカラーに、当時の映像を再現！！」ということばかりに関心が行きがちだが、着色技術は今に始まったことではない．ただ、我々視聴者の映像に対する没入感を一層強化していることに違いは無い．
哀愁に満ちて映画は終わる．エンディングで流れる当時の流行曲「Mademoiselle from Armentière」は底抜けに明るい陽気な音楽ではあるが、映像を一通り観終えた直後には「Mademoiselle from Armentière, parlez-vous?」とひたすら繰り返す歌詞に当時の空虚感を感じてしまう．しつこいほどに繰り返されるこの英語とフランス語のごちゃまぜのフレーズは、深い意味もなく延々と続く．
自然科学において、最も根拠のある主張、すなわちエビデンスが高いものというのは、メタアナリシス研究に基づく結果だという．その下には無作為対照研究（Randomised Control Trial: RCT）がある．さらにさらに根拠の低い試験や研究があり、最も根拠のないものは、（実は）専門家の意見である．だから専門家の意見をあてにするな、とはいわないが、「自分で取捨選択せよ」ということになる．逆にメタアナリシスの結果で帰無仮説が棄却されたからといってその仮説が正しいわけではない．尤もらしいだけだ．こういった誤解は現代でも続いている．ちなみに私は自然科学の畑を出自に持つが、「尤もらしい」とかいう妙な曖昧さが好きでない．
聞こえた文章を書き取る訓練が最も良いように思う．これは筆記の練習にもなる．かつて私はディクテーションの鬼となったことがあった．「The Phantom of the Opera：オペラ座の怪人」という映像作品がある．小説や劇でも有名だ．Andrew Lloyd Webber という作曲家が映画に向けて書いた曲（どれも壮大だ）があり、私は当時、高校生の頃、自宅にオペラを響かせて歌詞を聞き取り、自作で歌詞カードを作ったことがあった．何百回か、延々とオペラが鳴り響いていたので頭がおかしくなりかけたが、語と語の連結を推測したり、発音と抑揚、文章の構造を考える上で良い訓練になった．オペラの歌詞を聞き取るだけで難易度が高いので、後々流行りのポップスやロック・ミュージックを聴いて歌詞を書き出しては、後日公開されている歌詞と照合する、という遊びをやっていた．高校生にしてはそこそこ狂っていた（やっぱりおかしくなっていたじゃないか！）方だが、自分は楽しんでいたと思う．この訓練は多言語でも応用が効く．今度はアラビア語でやってみようか．
話すことについて
話すことは不肖あまり自信がない．発音と抑揚の付け方は幾分か指南できると思う．ただし私は非専門家だから、最も信頼におけない人材であることを断った上で話をする．発音に関して、海外で暮らしていないと発音が上手にならないのではないか、そう思っている人が多すぎて気の毒である．そんなことはない．小林克也という反例がいる．彼は大変きれいな英語を話すラジオDJで、彼は実に堂々と、崩れた英語を話す海外の連中と会話を成立させる．あっぱれである．彼の流暢さは抑揚の置き方にある．山下達郎もきれいな英語を話すと思う．Ride on Time〜♪
こんにちは．久しぶりの三郎こと、さぶちゃんです．今日は楽しい楽しいアラブ・ポップをお届けします．歌手はエジプトの（多分）大御所、Hussain Al Jassmi | حسين الجسمي｜フサイン・アルジャスミーです．さぶちゃんは、日本人からすると癖の強いアラブ・ポップスの中からリズミカルで耳に残る軽妙な楽曲を発掘しました！
エジプト版「アジアの純真」に少し似ているかな．Billy Joelの「We didn’t start Fire」っぽいかも．いろんな地名が出てきます．全エジプトの友愛をよびかける曲なので、政治色があるのかな、と勘ぐる諸兄もいるかもしれませんが、「We are the World」みたいなもんでしょ．語頭や語尾で音韻を踏んでいて気持ちがいいです．
物足りなくなってきた人がいれば、Remix版もYouTubeにあります！やったぜ．
最期にさぶちゃんの和訳を載っけておきました．よかったらどうぞ．
VERSE 1
This is an easy task, and you can do it
To the world you will speak out
And take an oath to make it better
You have been quiet too long
VERSE 1
Di farkit k’aab wahatmilha
Qaṣad aldunya hatquliha
Wuḥad buqaa ‘ahad tadilha
Siktiti ktir
VERSE 1
دي فركة كعب وهتملها
قصاد الدنيا هتقولها
وخد بقى عهد تعد لها
سكتت كتير
What did Egypt gain from your silence
Do not belittle your voice
Tomorrow, you will write it under your own stipulation
This is a good tiding
Khadit ayh miṣru biskutak
Matustakhsrsh fiha Ṣotak
Bitaktab bikarih bishuruṭak
Di boshret kheir
خدت ايه مصو بسكوتك
ماتستخسرش فيها صوتك
بتكتب بكره بشروطك
دي بشرة خير
CHORUS
Go call out for the ‘Saīdi’,
and your nephew from ‘Port Saīd’,
and the youth from ‘Alexandria’
for this is a gathering of men
CHORUS
Qawm nadi ‘a alsa’aidi
Wabn akhuk alburas’aidi
Walshabab alaskandraniu
allamuh di limat rijal
CHORUS
قوم نادي ع الصعيدي
وابن اخوك البورسعيدي
والشباب الاسكندراني
المه دي لمة رخال
And I will come with those from ‘Sohag’ and ‘Qina’, ‘Sinai’
those from ‘Al Mahalla’ who are the best of best
and the beautiful ‘Nubians’
No need to double check on the people from Suez
Everything is now jumbled together
And the people from ‘Al Ismailiyyah’ who have been through alot
Talk to me about the people from ‘Sharqiyya’
and together we are stronger
and together we are stronger
And Our hope is high
Wana haji m’a alswhaji
Walmhlawy ally myah myah
Walnubh aljumal
Matuṣysh alsaw aysh
Aldnya hayiṣuh kdh kdh
Walahasma’alawyh yamana kaduu al’ada
Klmny’a alsharaquh
wakhna waya b’aḍaqwaa
wa’amlna kabir
وانا هاجي مع السوهاجي
والمحلاوي اللي ميه ميه
والنوبه الجمال
ماتوصيش السوايسه
الدنيا هايصه كده كده
والاسماعلاويه ياما كادوا العدا
كلمني ع الشراقوه
واحناويا بعض اقوى
وآملنا كبير
VERSE 2
This is an easy task, and you can do it
To the world you will speak out
And take an oath to make it better
You have been quiet too long
VERSE 2
Di farkit k’aab wahatmilha
Qaṣad aldunya hatquliha
Wuḥad buqaa ‘ahad tadilha
Siktiti ktir
VERSE 2
دي فركة كعب وهتملها
قصاد الدنيا هتقولها
وخد بقى عهد تعد لها
سكتت كتير
The people from ‘Beheira’, ‘Menoufiya’, or “Damietta’
HAVE you heard the Taoist tale of the Taming of the Harp?
皆は「琴ならし」という道教徒の話を聞いたことがあるだろうか．
Once in the hoary ages in the Ravine of Lungmen7 stood a Kiri tree, a veritable king of the forest. It reared its head to talk to the stars; its roots struck deep into the earth, mingling their bronzed coils with those of the silver dragon that slept beneath. And it came to pass that a might wizard made of this tree a wondrous harp, whose stubborn spirit should be tamed but but the greatest of musicians. For long the instrument was treasured by the Emperor of China, but all in vain were the efforts of those who in turn tried to draw melody from its strings. In response to their utmost strivings there came from the harp but harsh notes of disdain, ill-according with the songs they fain would sing. The harp refused to recognise a master.
At last came Peiwoh, the prince of harpists. With tender hand he caressed the harp as one might seek to soothe an unruly horse, and softly touched the chords. he sang of nature and the seasons, of high mountains and flowing waters, and all the memories of the tree awoke! Once more the sweet breath of spring played amidst its branches. The young cataracts, as they danced down the ravine, laughed to the budding flowers. Anon were heard the dreamy voices of summer with its myriad insects, the gentle patterning of rain, the wail of the cuckoo. Hark! a tiger roars, – the valley answers again. In autumn; in the desert night, sharp like sword gleams the moon upon the frosted grass. Now winter reigns, and through the snow-filled air swirl flocks of swan and rattling hailstones beat upon the boughs with fierce delight.
Then Peiwoh changed the key and sang of love. The forest swayed like an ardent swain deep lost in thought. On high, like a haughty maiden, swept a cloud bright and fair; but passing, trailed long shadows on the ground, black like despair. Again the mode was changed; Peiwoh sang of war, of clashing steel and trampling steeds. And in the harp arose the tempest of Lungmen, the dragon rode the lightning, the thundering avalanche crashed through the hills. In ecstasy the Celestial monarch asked Peiwoh where in lay the secret of his victory. “Sire,” he replied, “others have failed because they sang but of themselves. I left the harp to choose its theme, and knew not truly whether the harp had been Peiwoh or Peiwoh were the harp.”
This story illustrates the mystery of art appreciation. The masterpiece is a sympathy played upon our finest feelings. True art is Peiwoh, and we the harp of Lungmen. At the magic touch of the beautiful the secret chords of our being are awakened, we vibrate and thrill in response to its call. Mind speaks to mind. We listen to the unspoken, we gaze upon the unseen. The master calls forth notes we know not of. Memories long forgotten all come back to us with a new significance. Hopes stifled by fear, yearnings that we dare not recognise, stand forth in new glory. Our mind is the canvas on which the artists lay their colour; their pigments are our emotions; their chiaroscuro the light of joy, the shadow of sadness. The masterpiece is of ourselves, as we are of the masterpiece.
The sympathetic communication minds necessary for art appreciation must be based on mutual concession. The spectator must cultivate the proper attitude for receiving the message, as the artist must know how to impart it. The tea-master, Kobori-Enshiu, himself a daimyo, has left to us these memorable words: “Approach a great painting as thou wouldst approach a great prince.” In order to understand a masterpiece, you must lay yourself low before it and await with bated breath its least utterance. An eminent Sung critic once made a charming confession. Said he: “In my young days I praised the master whose pictures I liked, but as my judgement matured I praised myself for liking what the masters had chosen to have me like.” It is to be deplored that so few of us really take pains to study the moods of the masters. In our stubborn ignorance we refuse to render them this simple courtesy, and thus often miss the rich repast of beauty spread before our very eyes. A master has always something to offer, while we go hungry solely because of our own lack of appreciation.
When I was browsing books about great writers or writings, I coincidentally made the acquaintance of other writers frequently, that mainly attracted me in the past, whereas I had suspended further research on them. I never anticipated to find out the notification in the book that one and another had actually met or they had been in the same place before, or he/she had been quoted as an example of their story. That was like unexpectedly completing a piece of gigantic jigsaw puzzle which is very hard in the process of making, I felt an ease which was the same sense of fitting something accurately in my heart. If I were to see as a flying creature the vast ground from the highest view among obscure clouds, it might be as well as seeing slight landscape through a chink which is getting wider. So I would fain tell viewers about my tiny experiences which are short, and to write down my prospect as well.
At first, I would like to mention of Khalil Gibran. I brought my mind to the translation of his poetry had been arranged among the works of Kamiya Mieko in the section of Misuzu Shobo in some bookshops since long time ago. I wondered his name supposed to be originated from west Asia, and I thumbed through one of Kamiya’s book. After that I knew that Kamiya Mieko was in the department of Psychiatry of Tokyo University, school of medicine, in which Kinoshita Mokutaro(Ohta Masao) was belong to the department of Dermatology as a professor. Such connection has directly nothing to do with literary meaning, however, people may get close each other unconsciously by somewhat called a gravity, I must say.
I learnt that Gibran was born in Lebanon, where the former Ottoman empire had occupied, and he has been famous for his poetry, especially “The Prophet” has been read worldwide. It is true that his works translated in Japanese are available in remote cities of Japan as well, nevertheless the original version can be purchased only online if living in local cities. It is all the more difficult to buy other language edition. The other day I found that Gibran firstly conceived the idea of “The Prophet” in Arabic. He went to the America in his youth and learnt skills of English, then he also went back home to receive higher education of Arabic.
Fortunately I got an ebook of “The Prophet” in English and Arabic version. I am not get used to read in Kindle, but it was a good purchase that I got it within 1,000Yen. As I read the introduction, that says it took twenty years to translate in Arabic. What a long journey it is! I cannot understand the concept of price tagging when I came across such a valuable book that is affordable less than 1,000Yen. I am also a member of Kindle unlimited in Amazon.com, so I am able to read the Japanese translation by Sakuma Takeshi for free. Then I have started to read it. What I felt was that it was easy to read and not many pages. But I have to mention that read easily and be comprehensible are not the same. The energy that the writer brought his heart to bear upon every single words must be so immense that I have to read it thoroughly. This is one of my utmost happiness to realise that I can examine it many times. As for the title “The Prophet”, it is a story like a manual of life course, the prophet Almustafa(المصطفى), teaches lessons to people who need guidance. I have not read the original poetry yet so it is not the time to speak of it. And I have got the reasonable reference book for studying Arabic at last, I would like to reverse translate gradually by using this ebook. Someday I would be happy to introduce the study result.
Secondly, I would fain speak of Rabindranath Tagore. Recently, I have very been attracted by the fact that non-English born person such as Gibran creates great English writings. Needless to say, Okakura Tenshin who is inordinately contributed to Kamegoro Law Firm is the one of greatest writer from non-Anglosphere, I believe. It is tremendously shameful for me to tell you that I thought that nothing better than using own language when expressing one’s own culture. How stupid I am! That is not true. At least Tenshin himself succeeded in attempting it in literature. Of course Gibran must have accomplished, not to mention Tagore and other writers who I do not know. I am very excited to know the fact all the more that Tenshin and Tagore knew each other, and visited their countries. It is said that Tagore has been to Tenshin’s tombstone when he died. Tagore was in Izura! He wrote “Gitanjali(গীতাঞ্জলি)” in Bengali, later on he wrote it again in English. Someday, I wish I could read his work.
I think that it is a huge encouragement for me to know that such people who are from non-Anglosphere write English literature. Particularly as for myself, who live in the world of totally different linguistic family, is quite an incentive.
I sometimes write articles in English, which are not praiseworthy contents and I think I am at best the third-rate writer. There must be many errors in my sentences. But I would like to keep writing my blog in English with my style. Then I would like to sophisticate my essay writing technique, not to be contented with the present situation, humbly tolerate the critics of others and review retrospectively by myself.
Finally, I would fain end the article by introducing a songwriter from Iceland. His name is Ásgeir Trausti. He speaks Icelandic but also good at writing beautiful lyrics in English.
Glistening nighttime dew, and she is walking with me.
From the house of red, I hear a child crying.
Foxes heading home, their prey hangs from their jaws.
And the forest knows, but it won’t share the secret.
When the king takes sides, leaving moral minds; soldiers take their share. Nighthawks seem to sense that now is the time.
Deep inside them burns the raging fire of life.
He’ll take back what he owns.
Death cannot take hold, if I can keep momentum.
Fortresses of stone, turn into crystal tears soothed by southern winds; I’ve found my strength now.
And nobody knows, and we must keep their secret.
When the king takes sides, leaving moral minds; soldiers take their share. Nighthawks seem to sense that now is the time.
Deep inside them burns the raging fire of life.
He’ll take back what he owns.
When the king takes sides, leaving moral minds; soldiers take their share. Nighthawks seem to sense that now is the time.
ニュー・ジャック・スイング（New jack swing: NJS）という音楽ジャンルがある．ご存知でない方に素人なりの説明をすると、1980年代後半から90年前半にかけて流行したジャンルで、黒人音楽家を中心に、歌謡曲の音楽シーンを席巻したとされる．ジャズやポップスやリズム・アンド・ブルースに近いのかもしれない．
訪れたCDショップも漏れなく「R. I. P.」で飾られた希代のエンターテイナーを追悼するコーナーを設け、悼みを経済の力にする意図があったように思う．私は結果的にその意図に便乗した．彼は御存知の通り、マイケル・ジャクソン（Michael Jackson）である．当時、CDはまだ売れていた時代で、ガラケーが流布していた．音楽配信が定額制（サブスクリプション）ではなかった頃で、もっぱら元データをパソコンに取り込んだり、携帯電話に移植することが求められた．そういった時代は、そういうものだとして、特に不自由しなかった．アルバムの表紙（ジャケット）は今でもそうかもしれないが、音楽家の思想・信条・作風を象徴する、そんな理解で私は鑑賞していた．
ふーむ．と私は疑りながらも、一応の説得力を持つ訳だなと当時は思わざるを得なかった（*集中よ、の訳はよくわからない）．辞書で引いても「集中」という解釈は出てこない．さてどうしたものか．ところで”it ain’t too much for me to”に触れておくと、ain’tというのは、is not, am not, are notの略という理解で良いだろう．Itは形式主語であり、意味上の主語はforに続くmeである．つまり、「私にとって（to以下は）多すぎることはない」、「私には（to以下は）どうということはない」、「（to以下は）どうってことないぜ」の意で通せる．（to以下）のことはjamにもつながるので後述する．
2. informal I’d tell you if we ever got into a real jam: predicament, plight, tricky situation, ticklish situation, awkward situation, spot of trouble, bit of bother, difficulty, problem, puzzle, quandary, dilemma, muddle, mess, quagmire, mire, imbroglio, mare’s nest, dire straits; with nowhere to turn
といった具合である．動詞はというと、
1. he jammed a finger in each ear: stuff, shove, force, ram, thrust, wedge, press, push, stick, squeeze, compress, confine, cram, pack, sandwich, insert.
2. several hundred friends and celebrities jammed into the shop | students soon jammed the streets: crowd, pack, pile, press, squeeze, cram; throng, occupy, fill, overfill, overcrowd; obstruct, block, clog, congest; North American mob.
3. the rudder had jammed: stick, become stuck, catch, seize (up), become immobilised, become unable to move, become fixed, become wedged, become lodged, become trapped.
Nation to nation all the world must come together Face the problems that we see Then maybe somehow we can work it out I asked my neighbor for a favor she said later What has come of all the people have we lost love of what it’s about
I have to find my peace cuz no one seems to let me be False prophets cry of doom What are the possibilities I told my brother there’ll be problems, Times and tears for fears, We must live each day like it’s the last
Go with it, Go with it,
Jam It ain’t too much stuff It ain’t too much It ain’t too much for me to Jam It ain’t It ain’t too much stuff It ain’t Don’t you It ain’t too much for me to
The world keeps changing Rearranging minds and thoughts predictions fly of doom The baby boom has come of age We’ll work it out
I told my brothers Don’t you ask me for no favors I’m conditioned by the system Don’t you talk to me Don’t scream and shout
She prays to god, to Buddha Then she sings a Talmud song Confusions contradict the self Do we know right from wrong I just want you to recognize me in the temple You can’t hurt me I found peace within myself
