Applied Linguistics @beykentunv Language Acquisition III

Written Communication Skills Material for 30+31.10.2019: GROUP 4+5

Please print out the following material:
Basic Essay Format:
https://www.deanza.edu/faculty/cruzmayra/basicessayformat.pdf
Types of Essays
https://drjlavcenglish.weebly.com/uploads/5/1/0/2/51027157/types-of-essays.pdf
Guides for different kinds of essays:
http://www.edu.xunta.gal/centros/iesallariz/system/files/TYPES+OF+ESSAYS.pdf

best gh

Study Guide for ACL109 Mythology MIDTERM @halicuni

Jodice Canova

Dear Students,
For those who freak out. Stay calm.

Please re-read:
The 12 Olympian God and Goddesses
Aphrodite and Adonis's story
The story of Demeter-Persephone-Hades
The story of Dionysus
The creation myth Cosmogony
The Cyclops
The story of Prometheus- Epimetheus-Pandora

best
gh

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR QUIZ 1 @beykentunv

Dear Students,

The first Quiz for Written Skills Communication Group 5 is due at 30.10.2019 on Wednesday.
The first Quiz for Written Skills Communication Group 4 is due at 31.10.2019 on Thursday.

Please be in class on time.
You are responsible for all the material that we have covered for so far.
Good luck.
best
gh

Applied Linguistik Prezi II @beykentunv 24.10.2019

Visit our Desk @Beykentunv Avalon

Visit our Desk for the Translation-Club @Beykentunv Avalon.

Postmodern lit

Eighth Sky BY MICHAEL PALMER:

                                                    Spinoza

                                                        analemma

word origin

                                                       Beat Poetry



Transformation & Escape
BY GREGORY CORSO

                                                St. Michael the Archangel HD

                                                Dante Alighieri: Italian poet, prose writer, literary theorist,                                                         moral philosopher, and political thinker. Divine Comedy.

                                                 St. Peter, the First Pope HD

                                                     St. Francis Of Assisi HD

ACL 109 Mythology: She kissed him, but Adonis knew not that she kissed him as he died.

"You die. O thrice desired,

And my desire has flown like a dream.

Gone with you is the girdle of my beauty.

But I myself must live who am a goddess

And may not: follow you.

Kiss me yet once again, the last, long kiss,

Until I draw your soul within my lips

And drink down all your love."

The mountains all were calling and the oak trees answering,

Oh, woe, woe for Adonis. He is dead.

And Echo cried in answer, Oh, woe, woe for Adonis.

And all the Loves wept for him and all the Muses too. 

ACL 109 Mythology: Earliest Heroes 21.10.2019

Written Communication Skills GROUP 4 @beykentunv

This is the Material for Group 4

A Guide for Writing Introduction Paragraphs for Academic Essays: https://www.ufv.ca/media/assets/academic-success-centre/handouts/How-to-write-an-introduction----Grant-Morley.pdf
Introductory Paragraphs/  English 255 : http://www.cabrillo.edu/~gjonker/Intros.pdf
Writing Effective Introductions:  https://valenciacollege.edu/students/learning-support/winter-park/communications/documents/writingeffectiveintroductions.pdf
Oxford University PressHeadway Plus INTERMEDIATE Writing Guide:  file:///C:/Users/User/Downloads/104_Writing_booklet_Introductory+1%20(1).pdf

Written Communication Skills Group 5 - 23.10.2019

THIS IS ONLY FOR GROUP 5


The Difference between Thesis Statements and Topic Sentences:
http://www.centralchristian.edu/PDFs/WritingCenter/WC%20ThesisVSTopicWorksheet.pdf

How to make an Outline:
https://depts.washington.edu/psych/files/writing_center/outline.pdf

The Basic Outline of a Paper:
https://www.crestmont.edu/pdf/candidates-reserarch-papers.pdf

best
gh

Material for Verbal Communication @beykentunv

Applied Linguistics @beykentunv

ACL 359: Postmodern lit material for 22.10.2019

Eighth Sky

BY MICHAEL PALMER

It is scribbled along the body

Impossible even to say a word

 

An alphabet has been stored beneath the ground

It is a practice alphabet, work of the hand

 

Yet not, not marks inside a box

For example, this is a mirror box

 

Spinoza designed such a box

and called it the Eighth Sky

 

called it the Nevercadabra House

as a joke

 

Yet not, not so much a joke

not Notes for Electronic Harp

 

on a day free of sounds

(but I meant to write “clouds”)

 

At night these same boulevards fill with snow

Lancers and dancers pass a poisoned syringe,

 

as you wrote, writing of death in the snow,

Patroclus and a Pharoah on Rue Ravignan

 

It is scribbled across each body

Impossible even to name a word

 

Look, you would say, how the sky falls

at first gently, then not at all

 

Two chemicals within the firefly are the cause,

twin ships, twin nemeses

 

preparing to metamorphose

into an alphabet in stone

 

 

                                                         St.-Benoit-sur-Loire

                                                         to Max Jacob

Transformation & Escape

BY GREGORY CORSO

1

I reached heaven and it was syrupy.

It was oppressively sweet.

Croaking substances stuck to my knees.

Of all substances St. Michael was stickiest.

I grabbed him and pasted him on my head.   

I found God a gigantic fly paper.

I stayed out of his way.

I walked where everything smelled of burnt chocolate.   

Meanwhile St. Michael was busy with his sword   

hacking away at my hair.

I found Dante standing naked in a blob of honey.   

Bears were licking his thighs.

I snatched St. Michael’s sword

and quartered myself in a great circular adhesive.   

My torso fell upon an elastic equilibrium.

As though shot from a sling

my torso whizzed at God fly paper.

My legs sank into some unimaginable sog.

My head, though weighed with the weight of St. Michael,   

did not fall.

Fine strands of multi-colored gum

suspended it there.

My spirit stopped by my snared torso.

I pulled! I yanked! Rolled it left to right!

It bruised! It softened! It could not free!

The struggle of an Eternity!

An Eternity of pulls! of yanks!

Went back to my head,

St. Michael had sucked dry my brainpan!

Skull!

My skull!

Only skull in heaven!

Went to my legs.

St. Peter was polishing his sandals with my knees!   

I pounced upon him!

Pummeled his face in sugar in honey in marmalade!   

Under each arm I fled with my legs!

The police of heaven were in hot pursuit!

I hid within the sop of St. Francis.

Gasping in the confectionery of his gentility   

I wept, caressing my intimidated legs.

2

They caught me.

They took my legs away.

They sentenced me in the firmament of an ass.

The prison of an Eternity!

An Eternity of labor! of hee-haws!

Burdened with the soiled raiment of saints

I schemed escape.

Lugging ampullae its daily fill

I schemed escape.

I schemed climbing impossible mountains.

I schemed under the Virgin’s whip.

I schemed to the sound of celestial joy.

I schemed to the sound of earth,

the wail of infants,   

the groans of men,   

the thud of coffins.   

I schemed escape.

God was busy switching the spheres from hand to hand.   

The time had come.

I cracked my jaws.   

Broke my legs.

Sagged belly-flat on plow

on pitchfork

on scythe.

My spirit leaked from the wounds.

A whole spirit pooled.

I rose from the carcass of my torment.   

I stood in the brink of heaven.

And I swear that Great Territory did quake   

when I fell, free.

Homework

BY ALLEN GINSBERG

Homage Kenneth Koch

If I were doing my Laundry I’d wash my dirty Iran

I’d throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap, scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in the jungle,

I’d wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,   

Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,   

Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly Cesium out of Love Canal

Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain Sludge out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,

Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little Clouds so snow return white as snow,

Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie   

Then I’d throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood & Agent Orange,

Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,

& put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an Aeon till it came out clean.

 

Boulder, April 26, 1980

ACL 305: Material for 21.10.2019

["Poem /Kassiber"] flepp

Thanatopsis

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

     To him who in the love of Nature holds   

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks   

A various language; for his gayer hours   

She has a voice of gladness, and a smile   

And eloquence of beauty, and she glides   

Into his darker musings, with a mild   

And healing sympathy, that steals away   

Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts   

Of the last bitter hour come like a blight   

Over thy spirit, and sad images   

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,   

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,   

Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;—   

Go forth, under the open sky, and list   

To Nature’s teachings, while from all around—

Earth and her waters, and the depths of air—

Comes a still voice—

                                       Yet a few days, and thee   

The all-beholding sun shall see no more   

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,   

Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,   

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist   

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim   

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up   

Thine individual being, shalt thou go   

To mix for ever with the elements,   

To be a brother to the insensible rock   

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain   

Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak   

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.  

     Yet not to thine eternal resting-place   

Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish   

Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down   

With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings,   

The powerful of the earth—the wise, the good,   

Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,   

All in one mighty sepulchre.   The hills   

Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,—the vales   

Stretching in pensive quietness between;   

The venerable woods—rivers that move   

In majesty, and the complaining brooks   

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,   

Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste,—   

Are but the solemn decorations all   

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,   

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,   

Are shining on the sad abodes of death,   

Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread   

The globe are but a handful to the tribes   

That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings   

Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,   

Or lose thyself in the continuous woods   

Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,   

Save his own dashings—yet the dead are there:   

And millions in those solitudes, since first   

The flight of years began, have laid them down   

In their last sleep—the dead reign there alone.

So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw   

In silence from the living, and no friend   

Take note of thy departure? All that breathe   

Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh

When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care   

Plod on, and each one as before will chase   

His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave   

Their mirth and their employments, and shall come

And make their bed with thee. As the long train   

Of ages glide away, the sons of men,   

The youth in life’s green spring, and he who goes   

In the full strength of years, matron and maid,   

The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man—   

Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,   

By those, who in their turn shall follow them.  

     So live, that when thy summons comes to join   

The innumerable caravan, which moves   

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take   

His chamber in the silent halls of death,   

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,   

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed   

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,   

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch   

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

The Prairies

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

  These are the gardens of the Desert, these

The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful,

For which the speech of England has no name—

The Prairies. I behold them for the first,

And my heart swells, while the dilated sight

Takes in the encircling vastness. Lo! they stretch,

In airy undulations, far away,

As if the ocean, in his gentlest swell,

Stood still, with all his rounded billows fixed,

And motionless forever. —Motionless?—

No—they are all unchained again. The clouds

Sweep over with their shadows, and, beneath,

The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye;

Dark hollows seem to glide along and chase

The sunny ridges. Breezes of the South!

Who toss the golden and the flame-like flowers,

And pass the prairie-hawk that, poised on high,

Flaps his broad wings, yet moves not—ye have played

Among the palms of Mexico and vines

Of Texas, and have crisped the limpid brooks

That from the fountains of Sonora glide

Into the calm Pacific—have ye fanned

A nobler or a lovelier scene than this?

Man hath no power in all this glorious work:

The hand that built the firmament hath heaved

And smoothed these verdant swells, and sown their slopes

With herbage, planted them with island groves,

And hedged them round with forests. Fitting floor

For this magnificent temple of the sky—

With flowers whose glory and whose multitude

Rival the constellations! The great heavens

Seem to stoop down upon the scene in love,—

A nearer vault, and of a tenderer blue,

Than that which bends above our eastern hills.

  As o’er the verdant waste I guide my steed,

Among the high rank grass that sweeps his sides

The hollow beating of his footsteps seems

A sacrilegious sound. I think of those

Upon whose rest he tramples. Are they here—

The dead of other days?—and did the dust

Of these fair solitudes once stir with life

And burn with passion? Let the mighty mounds

That overlook the rivers, or that rise

In the dim forest crowded with old oaks,

Answer. A race, that long has passed away,

Built them;—a disciplined and populous race

Heaped, with long toil, the earth, while yet the Greek

Was hewing the Pentelicus to forms

Of symmetry, and rearing on its rock

The glittering Parthenon. These ample fields

Nourished their harvest, here their herds were fed,

When haply by their stalls the bison lowed,

And bowed his maned shoulder to the yoke.

All day this desert murmured with their toils,

Till twilight blushed, and lovers walked, and wooed

In a forgotten language, and old tunes,

From instruments of unremembered form,

Gave the soft winds a voice. The red man came—

The roaming hunter tribes, warlike and fierce,

And the mound-builders vanished from the earth.

The solitude of centuries untold

Has settled where they dwelt. The prairie-wolf

Hunts in their meadows, and his fresh-dug den

Yawns by my path. The gopher mines the ground

Where stood their swarming cities. All is gone;

All—save the piles of earth that hold their bones,

The platforms where they worshipped unknown gods,

The barriers which they builded from the soil

To keep the foe at bay—till o’er the walls

The wild beleaguerers broke, and, one by one,

The strongholds of the plain were forced, and heaped

With corpses. The brown vultures of the wood

Flocked to those vast uncovered sepulchres,

And sat unscared and silent at their feast.

Haply some solitary fugitive,

Lurking in marsh and forest, till the sense

Of desolation and of fear became

Bitterer than death, yielded himself to die.

Man’s better nature triumphed then. Kind words

Welcomed and soothed him; the rude conquerors

Seated the captive with their chiefs; he chose

A bride among their maidens, and at length

Seemed to forget—yet ne’er forgot—the wife

Of his first love, and her sweet little ones,

Butchered, amid their shrieks, with all his race.

  Thus change the forms of being. Thus arise

Races of living things, glorious in strength,

And perish, as the quickening breath of God

Fills them, or is withdrawn. The red man, too,

Has left the blooming wilds he ranged so long,

And, nearer to the Rocky Mountains, sought

A wilder hunting-ground. The beaver builds

No longer by these streams, but far away,

On waters whose blue surface ne’er gave back

The white man’s face—among Missouri’s springs,

And pools whose issues swell the Oregon—

He rears his little Venice. In these plains

The bison feeds no more. Twice twenty leagues

Beyond remotest smoke of hunter’s camp,

Roams the majestic brute, in herds that shake

The earth with thundering steps—yet here I meet

His ancient footprints stamped beside the pool.

  Still this great solitude is quick with life.

Myriads of insects, gaudy as the flowers

They flutter over, gentle quadrupeds,

And birds, that scarce have learned the fear of man,

Are here, and sliding reptiles of the ground,

Startlingly beautiful. The graceful deer

Bounds to the wood at my approach. The bee,

A more adventurous colonist than man,

With whom he came across the eastern deep,

Fills the savannas with his murmurings,

And hides his sweets, as in the golden age,

Within the hollow oak. I listen long

To his domestic hum, and think I hear

The sound of that advancing multitude

Which soon shall fill these deserts. From the ground

Comes up the laugh of children, the soft voice

Of maidens, and the sweet and solemn hymn

Of Sabbath worshippers. The low of herds

Blends with the rustling of the heavy grain

Over the dark brown furrows. All at once

A fresher winds sweeps by, and breaks my dream,

And I am in the wilderness alone.

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR ACL HALIC UNİ

Those who are listed should contact me as soon as possible!!!

Mythology:

18020050021 ALİ EMRE ALEMDAR
19020050006 BURAK KIRAL
19020050029 ERHAN ŞATANA

American Poetry I:

17020050001 BENHÜR DİNÇER
17020050048 MEVLÜT DUYGUN
38933007520 DOĞUKAN ENEZ ACET
40832020302 KUBİLAY MALKOÇ

Writing Class Material 4 @beykentuni- 17.10.2019

Dear Students,

THIS IS ONLY FOR GROUP 4
Please Print Out for Class at 17.10.2019:

The Difference between Thesis Statements and Topic Sentences:
http://www.centralchristian.edu/PDFs/WritingCenter/WC%20ThesisVSTopicWorksheet.pdf

How to make an Outline:
https://depts.washington.edu/psych/files/writing_center/outline.pdf

The Basic Outline of a Paper:
https://www.crestmont.edu/pdf/candidates-reserarch-papers.pdf

best
gh

Postmodern Poetry: POETS AND THEIR WORK

Susan Howe by Charles Bernstein

One of the preeminent poets of her generation, Susan Howe is known for innovative verse that crosses genres and disciplines in its theoretical underpinnings and approach to history. Layered and allusive, her work draws on early American history and primary documents, weaving quotation and image into poems that often revise standard typography. Howe’s interest in the visual possibilities of language can be traced back to her initial interest in painting: Howe earned a degree from the Boston Museum School of Fine Arts in 1961, and enjoyed some success with gallery shows in New York. In addition to painting, Howe studied acting in Dublin. From an artistic, intellectual family, Howe’s mother Mary Manning was an actress and her father a law professor at Harvard; Howe’s sister Fanny Howe is also an acclaimed poet.

Ancient Mesopotamia

Simon Peter Meets Jesus

Mercutio, Romeo & Queen Mab

The Road to Damascus - Saul Takes his Journey

Poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti laments changing San Francisco

As poet, playwright, publisher, and activist, Lawrence Ferlinghetti helped to spark the San Francisco literary renaissance of the 1950s and the subsequent “Beat” movement. Like the Beats, Ferlinghetti felt strongly that art should be accessible to all people, not just a handful of highly educated intellectuals. His career has been marked by its constant challenge of the status quo; his poetry engages readers, defies popular political movements, and reflects the influence of American idiom and modern jazz. In Lawrence Ferlinghetti: Poet-at-Large, Larry Smith noted that the author “writes truly memorable poetry, poems that lodge themselves in the consciousness of the reader and generate awareness and change. And his writing sings, with the sad and comic music of the streets.”

The Richard Brautigan Library Project

Brautigan's work, perhaps due in part to his association with West Coast youth movements, generated a multitude of critical comment. Robert Novak wrote in Dictionary of Literary Biography that "Brautigan is commonly seen as the bridge between the Beat Movement of the 1950s and the youth revolution of the 1960s." A so-called guru of the sixties counterculture, Brautigan wrote of nature, life, and emotion; his unique imagination provided the unusual settings for his themes. Critics frequently compared his work to that of such writers as Thoreau, Hemingway, Barthelme, and Twain. Considered one of the primary writers of the "New Fiction," Brautigan at first experienced difficulty in finding a publisher; thus his early work appeared in small presses during the 1960s. College audiences of that decade clamored for his "new visions"; Trout Fishing in America achieved such popularity that several communes across the country adopted it as their name. In 1969, writer Kurt Vonnegut noticed Brautigan's West Coast success and introduced his work to Delacorte Press, who then reprinted Trout Fishing in America, In Watermelon Sugar, and The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster. Delacorte's handling of Brautigan's early work helped expose his writing to a national audience. Considered by most critics to be his best novel, Trout Fishing in America (written in 1961 but not published until 1967) established Brautigan as a major force in the mainstream literary scene.

Springhill Coal Mine Disaster Nova Scotia Canada 1956

ACL 109: Material for Mythology 14.10.2019

        Geneviève Cygan

Gaia

“Gaia, the beautiful, rose up,

Broad blossomed, she that is the steadfast base

Of all things. And fair Gaia first bore

The starry Heaven, equal to herself,

To cover her on all sides and to be

A home forever for the blessed Gods.”

“O eternal Createress of gods and men, who bringest into being rivers

and forests and seeds of life throughout the world, the handiwork of

Prometheus and the stones of Pyrrha, thou who first didst give

nourishment and varied food to famished men, who dost encompass and

bear up the sea; in thy power is the gentle race of cattle and the

anger of wild beasts and the repose of birds; round thee, firm,

steadfast strength of the unfailing universe, as thou hangest in the

empty air the rapid frame of heaven and either chariot doth wheel, O

middle of the world, unshared by the mighty brethren

Therefore art thou bountiful to so many races, so many lofty cities

and peoples, while from above and from beneath thou art

all-sufficient, and with no effort carriest thyself star-bearing Atlas

who staggers under the weight of the celestial realm.”

HESIOD:  Theogony / The Cosmogony

First it was Chaos, and next

broad-bosomed Earth, ever secure seat of all

the immortals, who inhabit the peaks of snow-capped Olympus,

and dark dim Tartaros in a recess of Earth having-broad-ways,

120 and Eros, who is most beautiful among immortal gods,

Eros that relaxes the limbs, and in the breasts of all gods and all men,

subdues their reason and prudent counsel.

But from Chaos were born Erebos and black Night;

and from Night again sprang forth Aether and Day,

125 whom she bore after having conceived, by union with Erebos in love.

And Earth bore first like to herself in size

starry Sky, that he might shelter her around on all sides,

that so she might be ever a secure seat for the blessed gods:

and she brought forth vast Mountains, lovely haunts of deities,

130 the Nymphs who dwell along the woodland hills.

She too bore also the barren Sea, rushing with swollen stream,

the Pontos, without delightsome love: but afterward,

having bedded with Sky, she bore deep-eddying Okeanos,

Koios and Kreios, Hyperion and Iapetos,

135 Thea and Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne,

and Phoebe with golden coronet, and lovely Tethys.

And after these was born, youngest, wily Kronos,

most terrible of their children; and he hated his vigor-giving father.

Then brought she forth next the Cyclopes, having an over-bearing spirit:

140 Brontes, and Steropes, and stout-hearted Arges,

who gave to Zeus his thunder, and forged his lightning.

Now these were in other respects, it is true, like to gods,

but a single eye was fixed in their mid-foreheads.

And Cyclopes was their appropriate name, because

145 in their foreheads one circular eye was fixed.

Strength, force, and contrivances were in their works.

But again, from Earth and Sky sprung other

three sons, great. and mighty, scarce to be mentioned,

Kottos and Briareus and Gyas, children exceeding proud.

150 From the shoulders of these moved actively a hundred hands,

not brooking approach, and to each fifty heads

from their shoulders grew above sturdy limbs.

Castration of Uranos

Now monstrous strength is powerful, joined with vast size.

For as many as were born of Earth and Sky,

155 they were the most terrible of the sons, and were hated by their father

from the very first: as soon as any of these was born,

he would hide them all, and not send them up to the light,

in a cave of the earth, and over the work of mischief exulted

Sky while huge Earth groaned from within,

160 straitened as she was; and she devised a subtle and evil scheme.

Having quickly produced a stock of white adamant,

she forged a large sickle, and gave the word to her children

and said encouragingly, though troubled in her heart:

"Children of me and of a father madly violent, if you would

165 obey me, we shall avenge the baneful injury of your father;

for he was the first that devised acts of indignity."

So spoke she, but fear seized on them all, nor did any of them

speak; till, having gathered courage, great and wily Kronos

addressed his dear mother with speeches [mythoi] in reply:

170 "Mother, I will undertake and accomplish this

deed, at any rate, since for our father, of-detested-name, I care not,

for he was the first that devised acts of indignity."

Thus spoke he, and huge Earth rejoiced much at heart,

and hid and planted him in ambush; in his hand she placed

175 a sickle with jagged teeth, and suggested to him the entire stratagem.

Then came vast Sky bringing Night with him, and around Earth

eager for love, brooded and lay stretched on all sides;

but his son from out his ambush grasped at him with his left

hand, while in his right he took the huge sickle,

180 long and jagged-toothed, and from his dear father

hastily mowed off the genitals, and threw them backwards to be carried

away behind him.