Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.00.1204030506450.19541@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: hymn ty gyd my gyd yn my sycknyss
Date: Tue, 3 Apr 2012 05:08:40 -0400 (EDT)
============= hymn and probable translation ============= hymn ty gyd my gyd yn my sycknyss thyt y myy nyvyr fryy mysylf frym thy yngyls yf thy yslynds thyt y myy wrythy yn pyyn, lyky sy mych cyntrybynd y cynnyt yn gyyd myysyry yscyrtyyn thys my hyyd ys thy syty yf yxcyvytyyns my yrms flyyl ygyynst thy wyrk yf thy lyrd hys hysts dystyrb my ynd hys mynyyns yry yn tryymph yvyr yll cryytyyn thyy yry yn tryymph my hynds tyngly wyth thy flysh yf thy slyyghtyryd my fyryhyyd ys thy hyst yf yrmyd myryydyrs yyy thyygh y wylk yn thyyr fyylds yyy thyygh thyy dy nyt yyyld y thyysyndth yf thyyr gryyn thyyr fyydstyrys y knyw thym nyt nyr thyyr gyrnyryd tymplys by yll yccyynts nyyght ys knywn yf thym y ym by yll yccyynts y hymn ty gyd my gyd yn my sycknyss y ym knywn ynd yn my pyyn y knywyth nyt y dy ynryvyl ynd my mynd ynryvyls y dy wyyvy ynd yn thy myrn my wyyvyng ys yndyny my bydy shyvyrs wyth yncyyntybly fyvyrs ynd vyylyncy my yyrs ryng wythyn thy ryngyng yf my yyrs my hyyrtbyyt ymyng thym my hyyrtbyyt cyntynyys byt ys cyyntyng dywn y hyyr nythyng rymymbyr nythyng y ym lyst ynd ym y lysyng gyny y ym yn dyyth ynd ym y dyyng gyny yn my sycknyss y wytch mysylf ynd y ym tykyng nyty ynd yf thys yccyyntyncy, thys ys y gyft fyr yyy thys spyykyng frym thy fytyry yntyryyr thys ylryydy cyllyng fyrth fyr thy symmyns yf thy bydy fyrgyvy my y lyrd yn my sycknyss fyrgyvy my fyr thy wyrds y spyyk fyr thyy spyykyth nyt nyr dy thyy syynd thy trympyts yf thy hyly nyr thy wylls yf thy cyty wythyn ynd wythyyt nyr dy thyy syynd, nyr dy thyy syynd ============= hymn to god my god in my sickness that i may never free myself from the angels of the islands that i may writhe in pain, like so much contraband i cannot in good measure ascertain this my head is the site of excavations my arms flail against the work of the lord his hosts disturb me and his minions are in triumph over all creation they are in triumph my hands tingle with the flesh of the slaughtered my forehead is the host of armed marauders yea though i walk in their fields yea though they do not yield a thousandth of their grain their foodstores i know them not nor their garnered temples by all accounts naught is known of them i am by all accounts a hymn to god my god in my sickness i am known and in my pain i knoweth not i do unravel and my mind unravels i do weave and in the morn my weaving is undone my body shivers with uncountable fevers and violence my ears ring within the ringing of my ears my heartbeat among them my heartbeat continues but is counting down i hear nothing remember nothing i am lost and am a losing gone i am in death and am a dying gone in my sickness i watch myself and i am taking note and of this accountancy, this is a gift for you this speaking from the future anterior this already calling forth for the summons of the body forgive me o lord in my sickness forgive me for the words i speak for they speaketh not nor do they sound the trumpets of the holy nor the walls of the city within and without nor do they sound, nor do they sound =============