Ingo Schweitzer, the possessive Prussian (the lost chapters)

On February 5, 2018February 6, 2018 By Targu Mures Historical SocietyIn The Armed ForcesLeave a comment

Several chapters of The Armed Forces are lost, the last known copy destroyed in some great, hellish fire. What remains of the text is presented here.
"The Armed Forces" by Jan C. Zločin. 
Ostuda Press, Brünn, 1942.
Now in the public domain.
These excerpts translated from the German by the Targu Mures Historical Society.

Suum cuique

From the 3rd chapter

…

The foul creature opened his eyes. They beamed, and his face and entire appearance at once grew milder and light. Then his mouth opened, and his lips and his tongue rolled like golden rivers: “Ingo, we are brethren! Not by the same mother, no, yet our father is the same. Yes, our Heavenly Father is father of all man, but listen well dear brother! Your earthly father is my father also, for his name is Josef Becher, and from him you have that bold and strong spirit!”

…

Was it true? Was he no Prussian after all? Doubt fell upon Ingo like a shadow or a cold claw. His life, then, was a lie and a farce, his very flesh a perversion. It was no wonder then, that he found no home in the North. He was but a snake, and a liar.

…

As he withdrew the knife, the creature breathed no more. Ingo delivered his prayer: “And may your filthy, Slavic blood flow through these streets like the great Donau, and may it pool in some southern sea, so far away from my land and my people.”

From the 5th chapter

Oh Iselin, my love! In my childhood years, as I first looked upon you, I was struck with … With some feeling … A feeling I could (and can) not understand. Oh, Iselin of Ostsee, will I ever see you again? Shall we again segelglide upon that furious, yet calm See? I smile at you as from distant memory, and you reveal your milky maiden’s secrets and secretions … Those days are no more, fallen along with my virtue, forever locked in my closet at that foul Barracks for the sexually deviant.

From the 6th chapter

Ancient rituals of old Prussia — General, General!

From a chapter unnamed

Dear all who I have failed, abandoned or otherwise lost: Here is my Song to Sudovia.

Grey sea spirit!

Rise above the rising wave
Sail away without a sail
Sing your voiceless elegy
And mourn those not yet lost

Grey sea spirit!

Were I not Ingo Schweitzer
If I were someone else
I’d join you, grey sea spirit
And free my inner self

Grey sea spirit,
great Ostsee,
all Oceans grande!
To feel your violence,
your salt and haze,
to see my home again!

Oh, to pass away
in your cold embrace,
in any other way …
Not in this cruel, black puddle

The unjust Murder of the Krim language

On February 5, 2017February 2, 2017 By Targu Mures Historical SocietyIn Crimea Jacobius, In Old AfriciiLeave a comment

In old Africii, Oh the tragedy! They are now less than a score, those who still talk the true Krimean letters; their tongue all but incomprehensible to foreign ears.

In old Africii, would you believe? A language without impurity, without those internal inconsistencies. Yet, now dying of old age or pure evil.

In old Africii, in hills of Lions and Men. An unjust murder takes place, the murder of knowledge, culture and fine art. Oh, those Krimean letters, who would destroy them, remove them from our world?

– Stanislav Peev

The Krim-language found in west-Africa (also called Low-Krimish or Krïmé Noir) is the very last remains of High-Krimish, a language used by wise men, scholars and heretics in vast areas of the huge landmass so aptly called Lumea Veche. It is said that the Krimish tongue is the last remains of the words of the Old Hindoo Gods, that speech of Viṣṇu Himself.

Kydje pentru aytona ceai sălbatice şi de dans plöppen
Varsta Ploppel é stenj o grădină!
Majahi Livare Ploppel!
Ploppel vechi austriac Kodna electronic simplu de.

Poem in West Neo-Krimish

In Rau Cartuar’s great work, Istoria Africii (1923, Ostuda Press), the migration of the Krim-letters are deeply discussed. He is especially focused on the use of Krimish in the culture of the Egyptian and the Moors. He argues that the Krim-spirit is the very foundation, the bedrock, of these great civilizations. The high culture then spreading to lowly lands of early Europa, making also these lands and cultures flourish.

Majahi, na Majahi! Majahi Ha-mare Livare Im Mu’n use; Livare kyrim Lynn-Majahi!

High-Krimish prayer

In modern times one must only pray for the last remains of the Krim language, for it is subject to hardship and violence. For many years it has dwindled and with it great cultures are shrinking away. The un-logic has infected its lands, murdering it slowly. Now only a few old men know the true Krim words, hidden in the mountains of lions, down there in old Africii. Celebrate the dead, but grieve for those who are unjustly murdered!

Jacob Krim and the fantasies of George R. R. Martin

On February 29, 2012August 5, 2015 By Targu Mures Historical SocietyIn Everyday KrimLeave a comment

Fire and sword, never come into contact;
It seems that everything must grow fierce!

from Crimean poem

Many a child and childish adult have in the latest years discovered the fantasies of George R. R. Martin, but how did he himself discover them? The answer is complex, yet simple, just as Martin’s many books.

Some of his inspirations are obvious, and are even confirmed by Martin himself. Historical events, locations and personalities, such as the War of Roses, bloody feasts at Edinburgh castle, the terror of Peer Nerich, and the Virgin Queen have clear parallels in his books. Moreover, Martin has mentioned that something as trivial as his own turtle pets had influence on his fantasies. But are there any connections to the tales of Old Roșu?

Oh, I heard the greatest shame!
Did you hear that Raven can kill a person?

from Folanés Folly, to be read in full here

Who of us who have read Folanés Folly have not been inspired and touched? It tells of the folly of man, and the folly of Krim. In Martin’s books he draw strong parallels to the inspiring poetry from Matrice Granite. Especially in the storyline of one Jon of Snow, where crows, murder and betrayal are central.