iv bin mesing around with SoundSpel môr and hav cum to th concloozhun that it is so much cleerer to ûz th sircumflex to indicât th difthong rather than th 'oe' dîgraf, despît th ofishal recomendâshun, for three reezons:
sum wurds becum longer becauz of th dîgraf, such as *miener or *raeser, becauz th 'e' which indicâts th preevius vowel is long must remân in this câs. this can creât unmanajabl compound wurds and is jeneraly undezîrabl.
many, many other wurds ar wun karracter shorter (than TO) when ûzing th sircumflex, such as *uez, *plaes, and *maet.
th dîgraf is not an acûret representâshun of th spôken vowel, but it also duz not acount for dîalectic vareâshun becauz it implîs mor spesifisity than is reealy thair (a mâjor gôl of SoundSpel is to not be ôverspesific in maping sounds to orthografy). ûzing th sircumflex implîs les about th pronunsyâshun, which in this câs is a guud thing.
this meens th SoundSpel vowels luuk lîk this (in th order: short, difthong, long pûr):
a, â, aa | e, [], ee | i, î, [] | o, ô, oo | u, û, [] | uu (SoundSpel's '*put' vowel)
enywâz, heer is Th Hurmit by Richard Dawson in SoundSpel under th cut. i am reezonably confident in th transcripshun.
———
i'm awâk but i can't yet see;
an eeger chifchaf is herralding me
th imej starts to form of a for-poster bed
sprung in th clarts of a riverbend
and th clavijer nôz
when th beeded shoots go
throo th arrid interstix of mi tôs
amung th mâzd roots of Rô’an as
i pas mi wâst
vâporus shafts of a burjoning sun
skûer th forest-flor onto a wurld fresh begun
all in th Nâm of th Harvest
i.e. our ever-onrushing plasma
shadôz of leevs
motld bi th cleevs
of caterpilar's ardent mandibls
form a basketweev of glôing mud
bloobels in bud
linen smok
and scarlet-embroiderd mantûa
desend from aulderbranches shînd with dû to setl
onto mi body
a litl emerald brooch [or brôch]
unclasps itself from mos
to alît upon mi brest
i step into a sliper-pâr --
exqizit replicas of thôz worn bi
Âda, th Enchantres of Numbers
-
too swolôd cups
of pûrâd bilberrys
which gro in abundans
bi th cornmil rooins:
wun hungers for nuthing
-
now let's folo
theez traks of a Falo Deer
sentenses of clâ leeding awâ from heer
out of the yauning deen
and over a gorsy brow vanishes
her blak hors-shoo rump and taterd tâl
into a gosamer vâl
-
at th hether-tousld crest of
Yeevering Bel we mâ enter a
stôn beecon-tower
from which th î mâ
hôld a hôl sweep of th kingdom:
hâzy marshes, crô-pokt copses,
pachwurk medôs laberintht with hejrôs
jently declîning to a fluf of wuudsmôk
clung to th frinj of th north see
th vilej of Beba
whâr wuns i livd, a
fisher, befor i was forst to flee
-
wun fâr morn, rapt in a shaul of salt-mist
i gatherd in mi pots of Whît-Clawd Crâfish
and from thôz suking sands
did i mâk mi wâ
driping to th kichendor of th Crost Kees
yung Charly Wheetstôn, th inkeeper's lad
with th sâm star-shâpt birthmark as his dad
set sqâr on his chin
bid me a shî 'hâl felo'
and empteed th sqeeking traps
into a pûter trauf
th forlorn broo'er laking ampl coin
apolojîzd with a tôken of grubs on a stik
and sugjested pâment tâk th form
of an upgrâd to mi vizhooal and ontoseptooal cortexes
bak in th thrôs of mi then-hôm --
(a bluberlit châmber, off th clif-crâzing tunels beneeth th fort)
-- i dond Dîojeneez' Rôbs, imbîbd th Côd
and disapeerd into a dreem of Kitiwâks
a hundred billyon voises ekôing around a
dark amfitheeater;
stil ringing in mi eers
as i went, creel in hand
throo th Bog of Nâms
upon entering a blosom grôv
i went into tôtl spasm as a
storm of info brôk abruptly acros my retinas
i câm around to an enhanst persepshun
of every lîf-form within a ten-yard radius
eech throbd with its ôn aurora
-
uterly aud
i'm inadvertently drawn to mi mind's-î
a lôn Ashy Mîner Bee, as if to a plât
under a mîcroscôp
i sobd as i zoomd amung
indivijooal hârs on its fôrlegs and fâs
and stârd for a long tîm into th omatideea
performing a scan
on a cash of Fals Deth Caps
i found i cuud trâs thâr history
all th wâ back to manûfakcher
Slipery Jak, Amethist Deseever,
Fâry Rings, Peny Buns, Hen Of Th Wuud...
i was amâzd
scroling not only th funguses yesturdâs
but also thâr meereead yet-bloomd tomorôs
-
with a burden of redcurants
and wîld garlik at mi elbo i
weerily mâd mi
wâ along Crakpool Burn,
joining th côst rôd at Glorôrum
up ahed i cud see what
luukt to bi a rôbot nelt in th lân
reveeld at a hîer magnificâshun
as a gilt-clad nît of Ôld
submerjd at th wâst in
unnyeelding concreet
flâling his arms to a windmil of gôld
lifting up th puur sôl's vîsor
mi gâz met with a mask of
vân-poping fûry --
or was it abject feer? --
gasping th shivalric ôth
then, it was over --
he split asunder
gleeming armor disolving to reveel
th aprentise of Godwin th
Whîtsmith, a meerest sliver of a man
stoopt to retreev th platinum
from his mouth i
hurd haulted hoovs in th dust, and
th crî 'MURDERER!'
-
tiny côbls out at see
a blak wal of cloud in th eest
and a tâper of rânbo
fântly aglo
amidst thâr wâks
0 notes
"Fique feliz com o que você pode fazer"
Muito se fala sobre se fazer com o que tem, porém eu sei que é bem difícil seguir esse ensinamento, quando é mais fácil se deixar levar pelo "não tenho as ferramentas necessárias logo deixarei de executar"
Ser feliz com o que se pode fazer, é entender que cada um tem a sua vez. Que tudo tem o seu tempo e que você não pode esperar para ser feliz ou deixar de fazer suas designações por querer fazer algo que de fato não está no seu alcance.
Deus dá uma tarefa para cada um, então se concentre na sua e fique feliz com o que VOCÊ pode fazer.
Talvez ele não tenha te dado permissão para construir um belo templo para ele, mas, ao invés disso, lhe colocou na liderança para guiar um povoado inteiro.
A vida pode ficar menos pesada se focarmos em nossas tarefas, nos meios que já temos acesso, ao invés de ter muito anseio em conquistar novos feitos, sem ter concluído o que já te foi designado.
"Davi se manteve ocupado no trabalho que Jeová tinha dado a ele (1 Crô. 17:7; 18:14)"
0 notes