winter haiku d’hiver = Tom Thomson

winter haiku d’hiver = Tom Thomson

Tom Thomson,
the northern lights alight
on his palette



Tom Thomson,
l’aurore boréale, l’éclair
sur sa palette 

Richard Vallance

Tom Thomson (1866-1917), who perished when his canoe sank in the summer of 1917, was perhaps the iconic painter of the illustrious Canadian Group of Seven painters.

Tom Thomson ( 1866-1917 ), qui a péri quand son canot a sombré l’eté de 1917, était, paraît-il, le peintre iconique du Groupe des septs, des peintres illustres canadiens.

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Translation of Linear B tablet K 04-28 from the Knossos “Armoury”

Translation of Linear B tablet K 04-28 from the Knossos “Armoury”



The translation of this tablet is relatively straightforward. The first line speaks for itself. On the second line we have  “opoqo kerayapi opiiyapi”, which could mean either “with horse blinkers of horn with parts of the reins” or “with horse blinkers with horn parts of the reins”,  since the Mycenaean Greek does not make it clear which part of the phrase – kerayapi – = “horn” modifies, the first or the second. Nevertheless, the second makes considerably more sense, since the poor horses might suffer injury if their blinkers were made of horn and they happened to shatter.  Certainly, the reins could be at least partly made of horn. So there you have it.

Finally, we are confronted with the perfect participle passive – metakekumena – . Chis Tselentis takes a wild guess that it means “dismantled?” , though it is quite obvious that he is very unsure of himself, given that his translation is followed by a question mark (?). Besides, when we consider the context of the physical attributes of the chariot in which this word is set, it does not make much sense that anyone would want to dismantle a chariot which has been painted crimson by someone else, as that would simply undo the work  of the painter. Not a pretty scene. The scribe would have had one angry painter on his hands. On the other hand, the translation “(fully) refurbished”, which is practically identical with L.R. Palmer’s, makes a lot more sense. In said case, the scribe and the painter would have gotten along fine with one another. I am not saying that Tselentis’ translation is outright wrong. But the problem is that there exists no ancient Greek verb which fits the orthographic conditions of the perfect participle passive – metakekumena –  . On the other hand, the ancient Greek verb – komizo – is a pretty close match, even though its own perfect participle passive does not match. But – komizo – is Classical Greek, while – metakekumena – is far more archaic Mycenaean Greek. So there really is no way to tell for sure. But since the translation matches up so well with the context of the actual physical appearance of the chariot, I am much more inclined to favour it over that of Chris Tselentis.