the true tale of the monk of bordeaux

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
scribes and the translation of religious text

Submitted: March 17, 2017

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Submitted: March 17, 2017

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  He was a young scribe, a believer and not, in the book from which he was taught of the absolute word of a god. He was a frisky young man of thought, challenging and testing in everyway possible.

When he was at the age of five, taken to church where his ears became as big as a pitchers, hearing that the source of his existence chose a man to known upon the Earth.

Forgetting his name, he remembered the words, and his quest there after became to becom a monk. He worked night and day with pen- quill and parchment, learning his letters and his p's and q's, to test the testement and he made his vow and he was confirmed.

Becoming a scribe at the monestary of Bordeaux, it was one day that the father delivered to the three scribes who toiled there, the frisky young man included,three copies of the testement of the new. To be transcibed into french from arabic.

He was given his copy of the word and he went to work and as he understood the arabic he wrote it in french. After many days the father in charge of the translate collected the writing from all three, comparing what he read through the eyes of perfection which always see what they want to see. And frowning he came to the young monk again.

"Yours is incorrect. There are several passages which don't 'jibe' with what your brothers have written."

The young monk apologised and profusely. "Last night I partook of one too many glasses of wine and my eyes became blurry.. I did not see what was written. Please forgive me and let me try again. May I read what my brothers have done? Father please.."

With that pleading it was allowed and the now determined, the frisky young monk went about changing his verison once again. And once more the Father noticed, frowning as he read.

And the young monk bowed in supplication as he spoke. 

"I was feeling unwell from something I ate. Please Father.. may I try again to make it right.."

The Father was stern but agreed. "But know.. the next must be correct.."

Then the frisky monk thought of God and men and dictate and of finding absolute words which could be changed by the stroke of a quill. A letter here, a comma there and a shift of emphasis occurs. And in the end through much hard work HIS version passed into the permant record.

And perhaps it was the playfulness, or perhaps it was the wine, as the WORD of the frisky french monk found complete acceptence in time. And might I say, it is still accepted as such.


© Copyright 2018 LE. Berry. All rights reserved.

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