/blog post recovered from formerly deleted blog/Every now and then, I’m reminded about how similar we all are. How many of the same emotions, situations and daily activities have been noticed for the first time by someone, repeated by millions of us over time, and still resonate as “quaint” or personal.I have a love affair with lectures…below are my notes and some background on a favorite poem translated by SH. Background—————–From a lecture by Seamus Heaney There is a fragmentary ninth century manuscript belonging to the monastery of St. Paul, Unterdrauberg (in southern Austria). Preserved in that manuscript, along with a Virgil commentary and some Greek paradigms, are Irish language poems - including the little poem about the scholar and his cat, Pangur Ban - perhaps noted down by a bored monkish copyist. That poem had no readership, and no influence, for one thousand years - until it was published by Stokes and Strachan in 1902.It is now the most famous poem in the Irish language, and one of the best known and the best-loved poems in the world - the various translations have been much anthologized, and practically every Irish poet has made her or his version. The Robin Flower translation was chosen by Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes for their successful children’s anthology The Rattle Bag. A new translation, by Sean Hutton, Chair of the British Association for Irish Studies, will be found in Shaun Traynor, The Poolbeg Book of Irish Poetry for Children. In fact, in these days of the Internet, a simple way of discovering Irish language enthusiasts throughout the world is to start a Web search for ‘Pangur Ban’.Pangur BanI and Pangur Ban my cat,‘Tis a like task we are at:Hunting mice is his delight,Hunting words I sit all night.Better far than praise of men‘Tis to sit with book and pen;Pangur bears me no ill-will,He too plies his simple skill.‘Tis a merry task to seeAt our tasks how glad are we,When at home we sit and findEntertainment to our mind.Oftentimes a mouse will strayIn the hero Pangur’s way;Oftentimes my keen thought setTakes a meaning in its net.‘Gainst the wall he sets his eyeFull and fierce and sharp and sly;‘Gainst the wall of knowledge IAll my little wisdom try.When a mouse darts from its den,O how glad is Pangur then!O what gladness do I proveWhen I solve the doubts I love!So in peace our task we ply,Pangur Ban, my cat, and I;In our arts we find our bliss,I have mine and he has his.Practice every day has madePangur perfect in his trade;I get wisdom day and nightTurning darkness into light.– Anon., (Irish, 8th century)