James Joyce (1882-1941)
(copyright owner, please read the p.s. at the bottom of this posting)
Today, it is the irish novelist James Joyce, who presents his thoughts here. His opus magnum Finnegans Wake (1922-1939) is a clear example how literature can be like chamber music. Read it, dream it, sing it - do whatever you like. John Cage is looking over your shoulder. This is one of my favourite passages - by the way, here are no typos implied !
"Uplouderamainagain!
For the Clearer of the Air from on high has spoken in tumbuldum tambaldam to his tembeldim tombaldoom worrild and, moguphonoised by that phonemanon, the unhappitents of the earth have terrerumbled from fimament unto fundament and from tweedledeedumms down to twiddledeedees.
Loud, hear us !
For the Clearer of the Air from on high has spoken in tumbuldum tambaldam to his tembeldim tombaldoom worrild and, moguphonoised by that phonemanon, the unhappitents of the earth have terrerumbled from fimament unto fundament and from tweedledeedumms down to twiddledeedees.
Loud, hear us !
Loud, graciously here us !
Now have thy children entered into their habitations. And nationglad, camp meeting over, to shin it, Gov be thanked! Thou hast closed the portals of the habitations of thy children and thous hast set thy guards thereby, even Garda Didymus and Garda Domas, that thy children may read in the book of the opeing of the mind to light and err not in the darkness which is the afterthought of thy nomatter by the guardiance of those guards which are thy bodemen, the cheeryboyum with the kerrybommers in their krubeem, Pray-your-Prayers Timothy and Back-to-Bunk Tom.
Till tree from tree, tree among tree, tree over tree become stone to stone, stone between stones, stone under stone for ever.
O! Loud, hear the wee beseech of thees of each of these thy unlitten ones! Grant sleep in hour's time, O Loud !
That they take no chill. That they do ming no merder. That they shall not gomeet madhowiatrees.
That they take no chill. That they do ming no merder. That they shall not gomeet madhowiatrees.
Loud, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laughter low !
Ha he hi ho hu.
Mummum."
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P.S. Dear copyright owners of this picture, please contact me, if you don't want to see your picture above in this context! Your picture will of course be instantly removed! Thank you! Text-passage is taken from: James Joyce, Finnegans Wake (Paris 1922-1939, London: Faber and Faber 1975)
