Languages from a Distance

April is not yet here, but the showers have begun. I feel inclined to include some of my favorite lines from the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales (translated into Modern English):

When April with his showers sweet with fruit
The drought of March has pierced unto the root
And bathed each vein with liquor that has power
To generate therein and sire the flower;
When Zephyr also has, with his sweet breath,
Quickened again, in every holt and heath,
The tender shoots and buds, and the young sun
Into the Ram one half his course has run,
And many little birds make melody
That sleep through all the night with open eye ……

With much work, successes, and setbacks in between, I feel compelled to write again. Most of all, it’s about thinking. I need to think. And so I will write…again.