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Odi et amo definition is - I hate and I love (the person I desire).
Odi Et Amo | Definition of Odi Et Amo by Merriam-Webster
Apr 26, 2008 · Odi et amo. Catulli Carmina, 85.
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Odi et amo (Catullus 85) - Catullus - Ancient Rome - Classical Literature
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Odi et Amo Lyrics: Odi 4 amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
/ Nescio, sed fieri 4 et excrucior / (I hate and I love. Perhaps you ask why 4 do this? / I do not know, but I 4 it happen
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Odi 4 amo.
Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior. Odio e amo.
4 Per quale motivo io lo faccia, forse ti chiederai. Non lo so, ma sento che accade, e 4 tormento. —
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This is going to be an exploration of echoes, rather than antiquity.
Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
Nescio, sed fierei sentio et excrucior.
The two lines combine complex emotions with a simplicity of expression—and that very simplicity, I think, makes it more difficult to адрес страницы translate its узнать больше здесь out of the Latin.
Because of this, odi et amo tends to migrate into as many adaptations and variations as translations.
And why does it seem more than ironic that the name of the great ascetic scholar should be forever linked to Catullus this читать полностью />Modern scholarship tends to use the dates 84 BC to 54 BC.
Still making Catullus thirty at his death.
He traveled in high Roman circles, was acquainted with Julius Caesar, and was a friend of Cicero.
Readers of this piece are probably either going to already know an awful lot about him, or not enough.
So, for the sake of moving forward, let me just generalize that Catullus wrote some of the most bittersweet love poetry of his, or any other, epoch.
She was the sister of a notorious libertine, Clodius Pulcher.
But by that time, Catullus had been supplanted as читать статью lover.
Catullus may have been the romantic poet every sentimental woman wants.
And Clodia, the goddess slut every romantic poet craves.
But she had priorities beyond poetry.
Clodia was accused of many things, but never sentimentality.
And other poems whose адрес страницы lines are common currency still.
One of the most read is song 5: Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus, rumoresque senum 4 omnes unius aestimenus assis.
From there the poem goes on to talk about a thousand kisses, then a hundred, and another thousand, alternating between hundreds and thousands into the unquantifiable.
The poem has exploded into translations and imitations from the Renaissance to today.
The first stanza was beautifully translated by Sir Walter Raleigh.
And embrace, a tepid substitute for a thousand kisses.
A present day poet, Joseph Campana in his Book of Faces, a volume whose poems revolve around Audrey Hepburn also bends Catullus V to his purpose: Let us live, let us love—Audrey!
In fact, Martial, that consumate bad boy of Roman poetry, writing a few generations later, cites Catullus as a mentor.
Catullus could rant as well as—well actually, much better than—any open mic poet.
But sometimes the rancor of his great love turning sour is a quiet scalpel that slices deeper than any rant.
And that helpless wound comes down to us, almost clinically, in Odi et Amo.
Why I do so, perhaps you ask?
I know not, but I feel it, and I am in torment.
Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
Nescio, sed fierei sentio et excrucior.
The first sentence seems to offer only one translation choice—I hate and love.
But hate may not be the most productive translation choice.
Hate in English tends to have an active больше информации of anger.
Rather, a sense of aesthetic distaste.
And in choosing just how to interpret odi, I think you also have to consider the word order—in which odi comes before amo.
Latin is an inflected language and word order is often flexible.
But in this case you have one verb preceding the other, one image preceding the other.
Trying to think of examples where aggression becomes love, you can come up with some dark, extreme images.
A sated sadist fondling her prey.
On the other hand, if odi is interpreted as something more passive, an instinctive dislike or aversion—then the helplessness of amo in this poem seems underscored.
One falls in love, the way we always fall in love, despite ourselves.
Stumbling into an unwanted, yet deeply wanted wound.
Or as another friend once observed: Lovers, meeting for the first time, often feel initially annoyed with each other.
But in any case, one of the reasons these two lines of poetic graffiti have endured is that they resonate in every direction 4 a stone dropped in a pool.
https://xn--c1akdc2afchgc.xn--p1ai/asus/besprovodnaya-igrovaya-mish-smartbuy-706agg-rush.html speaks to the dark extreme fringe as well as to the myriad varieties на этой странице commonplace heartbreak.
Maybe Catullus is really talking to Clodia, not the reader?
The second line opens unequivocally enough.
Words that strongly resemble words in another language, but in fact mean something else.
Crucio in Latin, and crucifigo derive from the same root, but crucio means to 4, and crucifigo to crucify.
So the speaker in Odi et Amo is tortured not crucified.
So that the great classic works take on shades of meaning that were only potentially there in the original.
читать далее best poems especially in translation acquire a life of their own beyond their original intent and mutate in their dialogue with Напольный кулер YLR2-5-X 28L-B generations of readers.
They speak to us through a phone line interwoven with the fiber optics of our past and their future.
For us, some 2,100 years after Catullus, crucifixion false friend or not can never escape the weight of the sacramental—an energy of life as well as death.
This was hardly the case when Catullus wrote.
My guess is it had more to do with the Rosicrucians than Catullus.
But Odi et Amo would 4 a perfect epigraph for the relationships in those novels.
Maybe you do have to know why.
Echoes As with song 5, Catullus 85 has echoed down the centuries.
Alas, am I incapable to know whether I love, whether I hate?
A not particularly torturous ending.
But in my memory those lines are always mixed up with lines that occur a little later in the translated poem: It began in utter boorishness, and now it ends In angels of fire and ice.
Not explicitly Catullus, but lines Catullus would certainly understand.
подробнее на этой странице Campana also uses an adaptation of Odi et Amo in his Audrey Hepburn-centric Book of Faces: I hate, I love Audrey….
But two of the most interesting and lyrical contemporary adaptations come from Frank Bidart.
Then you realize the original Catullus can also be read this way.
Realize just how protean the deceptively simple Latin is.
In fact, re-reading Soik was one of the catalysts that started me re-reading Catullus and it seems appropriate to give Helmut the last word.
Indulge me, if you will, as I backtrack to somewhere around 1978.
We were both enjoying a pretty good year.
We shared the same small, but hot at the time, California publisher.
Helmut came to San Francisco to read, and we spent a few great days together.
We wandered the neighborhoods—North Beach, the Castro, the old and new Chinatowns, and pondered the tombstones at Mission Dolores.
His conversational English was only a little better than my stumbling German, but his fluent half sister Tanya accompanied us and our dialogue moved along as easily as a movie with subtitles.
And his second, five years later, along with critical studies of Rimbaud and others.
He was a pacifist, active in 4 circles and had little interest in anything but literature and the arts.
The sort of life the young Catullus may have led.
And he had a sweetheart, the young love of his life.
But then, of course, he was drafted.
And ended up at the Eastern Front.
War stories are notoriously unreliable.
But the way Helmut told it, he was exhumed unconscious from under a pile of corpses after the battle of Stalingrad by a band of Russians.
узнать больше здесь was a cherub, then, he said.
Despite being nearly thirty.
A lost kid, through and through, and some angel must have touched his captors.
Rather than shoot him or send him off with the other POWs, they adopted him as sort of a mascot and 4 put him to camp work.
He looked back with genuine nostalgia at that interval.
Although it all seemed quite logical when he was telling it.
Then, as the story goes, when the war was finally over the Russians just shook hands and sent Helmut walking home.
Were they the Red Army or a band of irregulars?
Or just a disillusioned unit improvising their own rules.
Helmut was never really clear about anything except how fond he was of those Russians.
In any event, he somehow made his way across shattered East Europe to what he thought was a German town.
But war had redrawn the borders and he found himself in newly Soviet Poland, conscripted to hard labor in the salt mines.
He was finally repatriated in 1950.
And spent the rest of his aesthetic and personal life practicing a sort of discipline of alienation.
Von Catull las ich in der stunde der dämmerung daß er in seinem dreißigsten jahr starb in der todesstunde alleingelassen in einem dreckigen hinterhaus der großstadt Rom.
Die sexbombe Claudia Pulcher mied sein bett von toten küssen und schweigen….
I read about Catullus in the twilight hour, the way he died in his thirtieth year, left alone at the hour of his death in a filthy 4 alley tenement in the metropolis of Rome.
Schon sein früher tod trug zur geniebildung bei.
Die demonstrieung weiblichen verfalls an seiner angebeteten geliebten vielleicht fünfzehn jahre später blieb erspart ihm Und das heißt 4 wirklich corriger la fortune!
And for all that what, if anything, was he spared?
His early death, for one thing, solidified his image as a genius.
You could say dying was really the ace up his sleeve!
Helmut died a few years back.
The story may be embellished a bit, passed from his sister to our mutual editor.
But as I heard it, he was hiking up узнать Стул барный Avanti BCR-Spam not too strenuous mountain trail in a popular resort.
And happened to be trudging behind a woman who caught ссылка на страницу practiced eye.
But if the account of his last days is to be believed—even at eighty-something, that ache still glowed.
Googling Helmut Maria Soik, the only recent references I приведенная ссылка find were to the bilingual collection I mentioned above and a German volume of вот ссылка published in 1980 whose title translates to Ramblings about the Possible Existence of Hell.
He knew: for industrial society for competitive society he was useless.
Later in that poem he asks the big question: Teach me comrade!
Teach me in my ignorance!
Give me the answer!
Who gives the poet his soup?
Wer gibt dem dichter die süppe?
Who nourishes a poet?
Soik was nourished by Catullus, as Catullus was nourished by Sappho.
But this can only go so far, provide only part of the calories a poet needs.
Süppe is the daily ration of the humble and misfortunate, of mendicants, internees, conscripts, and labor camps.
But Clodia the woman нажмите для деталей lived, aged, grew, faltered and plotted to survive.
The excerpts from his Catullus poem were retranslated for this article by Art Beck.
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