verb (used with object)
to encircle with or as with a wreath or festoon of flowers, leaves, or other material.
Engarland “to encircle with a wreath of flowers” is a compound of the prefix en- and the verb garland. As we learned from the recent Word of the Day enkindle, en- alerts English speakers that the verb it is attached to will take a direct object. The odd thing here is that garland already takes direct objects, so the prefix en- in engarland is redundant, kind of like saying “added bonus,” “free gift,” or “unexpected surprise.” Garland is a borrowing from Old French garlande “wreath,” which is of unclear origin but may derive from the word for “wire” in Frankish, a now-extinct language closely related to English and German that was very influential on French. Garland can also appear as a surname, but one of the name’s most famous bearers, Judy Garland, took it as a stage name after her family name of Gumm proved less than desirable for show business. Engarland was first recorded in English circa 1580.
He was young. And he believed not only in the efficacy of sacrifice, but also in the reward which engarlands sacrifice like flowers a grave.
Muses, I oft invoked your holy aid, / With choicest flowers my speech to engarland so / That it, despised in true but naked show, / Might win some grace in your sweet grace arrayed…
a dance form incorporating martial arts elements, originating in what is now Brazil as a system of physical discipline and movement.
Capoeira “a Brazilian dance form incorporating martial arts elements” is a loanword from Brazilian Portuguese that is of uncertain origin. One hypothesis is that capoeira is one and the same as capoeira “cultivated area that has reverted to forest,” with the change in definition because of the dance form’s origins in gatherings among people living in rural areas. If true, this would make capoeira a derivative of the words kaá “forest, scrub” and puera “that once was” in Tupi, a language once spoken in what is now northern Brazil. Alternatively, instead of a connection to Tupi, capoeira may come from kapwila “a blow, beating” in Mbundu, a Bantu language of southern Angola. Capoeira was first recorded in English in the late 1920s.
Over the past three decades, [Manoel Pereira Costa] has run neighborhood workshops that give kids a chance to immerse themselves in a tradition with roots in the dance, fighting and percussion practices of Africans brought to Brazil as slaves. In a favela with a history of violence between police and drug gangs, or armed battles between traffickers themselves, capoeira is an outlet that gives kids a sense of community—its practice a collective exercise blending characteristics of drum circles, sparring and tag-team gymnastics.
Having balance in a particular sport is a highly skilled activity, relying on hours and hours of practice. But there is no doubt that balance is also mediated through the brain. With his work on capoeira, a Brazilian martial art, [Greg Downey, who co-founded the blog neuroanthropology.net] found that instructors taught in ways that matched well with work on neuroplasticity in the brain, for example, through the reorientation of perception as well as imitative learning and mirror neurons.
a poetic motif emphasizing the transitory nature of youth, life, and beauty, found especially in Medieval Latin poems.
Ubi sunt “a poetic motif emphasizing the transitory nature of life” is a borrowing from the Medieval Latin phrase ubi sunt (quī ante nōs fuērunt) “where are (those who were before us).” The modern Romance equivalents of Latin ubi sunt “where are” include French où sont and Italian dove sono, with où and dove descended from ubi “where” and sont and sono derived from sunt “(they) are.” The translations of Latin ubi sunt in Portuguese and Spanish are onde estão and dónde están; the differences here are because onde and dónde descend instead from Latin unde “from where” while both Portuguese and Spanish use estar (from Latin stāre “to stand”) to mean “to be” when indicating location or state. Ubi sunt was first recorded in English in the early 1910s.
But what really got under my skin was the sweet melancholy that pervades every moment. The game is an elegiac ubi sunt to a world that is already disappearing under the feet of the characters, and which for us is long gone. Set in 1899, a recurring theme is the vanishing of the Old West, and with it the way of life …. Modernity and “civilisation” are taking over all the wild spaces.
It would be absurd to depict [Rae] Armantrout without depicting her pessimism, even cynicism, but it would be seriously misleading to say that she gives up on expression, or novelty, or sympathy, or even lyric. Her poem ‘Make It New’ refreshes the Poundian slogan, first rephrasing carpe diem and ubi sunt as car dealers’ slogans: ‘Each poem says,/“I’m desperate” then, “Everything/must go!”
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