my mind, etc

Posted on January 14th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Recovery, Words.

Samuel Beckett, Rough for Theatre: "There croaking to the winter wind [rime with unkind], having lost his little mouth-organ."

I literally can't parse "rime with unkind". I understand perfectly the sense of it, but my mind skips, every time I try to sound it out, the winter wind rhyming with unkind.

addendum: It's not Irish. It's not the words.

I understand perfectly how "wind" rhymes with "blind" and "mind". But my hearing mind doesn't understand it; it's broken.

It's weird.

1 comment.

Madeleine Robins

Comment on January 15th, 2010.

My mother used to delight in reciting:

Amarantha, sweet and fair
Braid no more thy shining hair
But let it fall as unconfined
As that sweet ravisher, the wind.

She would recite it twice, the first time with wind sounded like whined, the second time with unconfined sounded like unconfinned. Both times she sounded disgruntled about it.

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