mi casa is not su casa
- incandescens: (snerks at something that was written in 250 AD)
- me: oh dear
- incandescens: This is a translation of a bit of Chinese poetry written then:
- Satire on Paying Calls in August-
- When I was young, throughout the hot season
- There were no carriages driving about on the roads.
- People shut their doors and lay down in the cool;
- Or if they went out, it was not to pay calls.
- Nowadays -- ill-bred, ignorant fellows,
- When they feel the heat, make for a friend's house.
- The unfortunate host when he hears someone coming
- Scowls and frowns, but can think of no escape.
- "There's nothing for it but to rise and go to the door,"
- And in his comfortable seat he groans and sighs.
- The conversation does not end quickly;
- Prattling and babbling, what a lot he says!
- Only when one is almost dead with fatigue
- He asks at last if one isn't finding him tiring.
- (One's arm is almost in half with continual fanning;
- The sweat is pouring down one's neck in streams).
- Do not say that this is a small matter;
- I consider the practice a blot on our social life.
- I therefore caution all wise men
- That August visitors should not be admitted.
- me: omg. i would use that ALL YEAR round.
- incandescens: (grins)
- It's sort of reassuring to know that some problems were still around nearly two thousand years ago.
- The author is Ch'eng Hsiao and the translator is Arthur Waley, for the record.
