Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Hamryn Hiid Excursion

Before I have properly 'blogged' about everything since my last homestay, I am leaving on our next excursion. We are heading to Sainshand, Dornogobi Aimag. We will be there from October 20 - October 23. I leave tomorrow morning by train. This coming Monday is my oral and written language exam, so this trip will be filled with language study. Tonight I am struggling to finish my Independent Study Project proposal. The ISP is the month long study project where we are set loose to study whatever we want. I will post my proposal up here once I have things finalized...but for now, here's a teaser. This is the State Morin Khuur (Horse Headed Fiddle) Ensemble, or three of them, whow came to our classroom to play. They are about to head out on a big tour, but I did get to find out where to buy the Horse Headed Fiddle before they had to leave!

(hmm... I need faster internet before this will happen...apparently.)

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The Practice of Loneliness

Уулыг хараад би уул гэдгээ мэддэг
Униар мананг ажаад үүл гэдгээ мэдэрдэг
Бороо шивэрсний дараа өвс гэдгээ сэрдэг
Богширгоны жиргээ эхэлмэгц өглөө гэдгээ санадаг

Би хүн л биш

Од дүрэлзэхийн цагт харанхүй гэдгээ мэддэг
Охид нимгэлээд эхэлмэгц хавар гэдгээ санадаг
Ертөнцийн хүн бүрээс гагц хүсэл л үнэртэхэд
Ерөөс амгалан зүрх минь загасных болохыг ойлгодог

Би хүн л биш

Өнгө өнгийн тэнгэр дор аугаа их ХООСОН,
Өнөөдрөөс эхлээд би, зөвхөн...




I look at a mountain and know that I am mountain
I observe mist and perceive that I am cloud
After rain sprinkles I sense that I am grass
As soon as the sparrow's twittering begins, I remember
that I am morning

I am not merely human

When a star flares up I know that I am darkness
As soon as girls shed their thick winter clothes, I remember
that I am spring
When I smell only longing from every person in the universe
My ever more tranquil heart understands that it is a fish's

I am not merely human

Under a multi-colored sky the immense VOID,
From today on I, only…

Flowers of Death

Flowers of Death

Үс сэрвэлзэх ч салхин үгүй талд
Үнэр, өнгөгүй түмэн цэцэг найгана.
Үл мэдэгхэн санаа алдахын цуурайг
Үүрдийн тайвшрал, мөнхийн зүүд залгана.


On a steppe without even a wind that would move a hair
Thousands of flowers without scent or color sway.
The smallest sigh's echo
Is followed by eternal calm and an infinite dream.