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Poetry, Got something? ...Shtick it here..

Devilsadvocate
post Feb 20 2007, 11:55 PM
Post #21





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GREENFINGERS

There once was a man who wanted to grow
some plants in his garden. He started to sow
a varied assortment of flowery things,
and he planted some bushes- quite thorny, with stings.
He looked at his garden with pleasure and pride-
this pride ever growing: "I've got nothing to hide.
My garden is top-class! I can quite afford
to boast and show off; i've got green hands- my word!"

And down on his hands he would spent every day
to get rid of the daisies he saw with dismay;
for "...in this here garden, there will nothing grow
which does not belong here: Which *I* didn't sow!"
So thus he killed off all that bloomed or that moved,
whenever his choosy mind hadn't approved;
and slowly but surely the native things went,
quite so as if never to be they were meant.

He replaced them with things from around half the world,
with plants from Japan, whose leaves were all curled;
from India, Africa, China and Spain,
for native plants- he had found- were far too plain.
One day, he received a new plant from a friend:
A thing that not ever to be here was meant.
It'd grown in a place which was far and remote,
and were *no people lived*- for good reason, take note!

The thing, on delivery, had bitten the hand
of the postman- for it was a meat-eating plant.
It's diet included first insects and mice;
but once fully grown, it found larger things nice...
And in just a short period, it grew large and tall-
though all dogs and cats dissappeared by next fall;
and so did our gardener- during next spring,
they found near the greenhouse his watch and his ring.

The plant now was blooming- a wonderful sight-
in all sorts of colors. The climate was right,
and so was the soil. Seeds were blown away
by the wind, and fell down in some garden, to stay...

W.J.B
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Devilsadvocate
post Feb 23 2007, 07:23 PM
Post #22





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WORDS:

Words are like water.
Words are like air.
Words are like fire.
Words are like earth.

Words must flow like water.
Words must be light as air.
Words must burn like fire.
Words must be solid like earth.

Words must be cool as water.
Words must be breathed like air.
Words must be hot like fire.
Words must be felt like earth.

Words must be drunk like water.
Words must be swallowed like air.
Words must fill the veins like fire.
And earth to earth...

W.J.B
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Devilsadvocate
post Feb 27 2007, 01:45 AM
Post #23





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For Painter:
"...Come the character to understand from its deposition-
that which builds thy misfortune!
Darkness constrains with its sickness,
while he who feels sorrow excess builds:
Health to loose- to possess that which destroys joy--
to lose much, because the remainder burns the heart!
By facing the self, time comes to consume the deposition.
This strength behold- because the (self-)image approaches in the capacity of the confidant: embracing- to have power over thy will!
Come not *this*- thy calamity- to embrace:
Building miserie's shrine-
because the (self-)image passes away without being more than the equivalent of death- leading the head with the great curse, whilst conceiving that which death builds upon defect;
suckling wretchedness within- a shrine to build for suckling thy evil;
them (i.e., people) to turn away from- in a helpless state to build death upon thy defect...
Oh- to (become) strong, understand that which the (self-)image comes to entreat to resemble thee!
To become it's superior lord, come towards the self-
strike the (self-)image to become prince:
To ascend, understand every decay to fetter!
...Build upon this matter to conceive wisdom:
Journey towards that which builds a refuge-
turn towards that which builds character-
like this to build thy form.
Come towards the self for a moment, to stop the river in it's limits:
It to move to escape from the dam- to depart the lake!
*The self's misery*- oh, *this* turn against, to smash prejeduce!
To know thy defect, build knowledge to understand man's decay;
to turn back destruction, oppose *miserie's form*.
Build upon this subject, to conceive wisdom:
Journey towards resurrection- the remote day of the innundation
which crushes man's abode:
His freedom from this behold-
To build health while protection to understand to build upon support;
keeping guard over joy to strike misery; Darkness to turn away from to strike evil.
Oh- know this, child:
Every joy to give, while like this to build character!
To attack death, see the cycle of time belonging to the (self-)image!
*This* be glad to know:
Death builds upon barren ground- *upon this* place heaven...
He who the (self-)image knows to smite flourishes by being contend-
because the self comes to share, to provide sanctuary!
Come, child, health to build- to create the self..."

(From an ancient Egyptian text)

This post has been edited by Devilsadvocate: Feb 27 2007, 01:47 AM
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Devilsadvocate
post Mar 20 2007, 10:49 PM
Post #24





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This is not a poem, but a story- one which should be known, one which *must* be known.
It concerns a man called Hassan al Sabbah.
Hassan lived around the time of Sultan Saladin and Richard the Lionheart, in what is now Iran. He was the leader of a sect, which was hated and despised throughout the Islamic world, and beyond it.
Above all, he was universally feared.
Hassan al Sabbah was an Imam- a religious teacher; as such, he received respect wherever he went. As was the custom, he would travel around; the hospitality of the communities he visited would always be a certainty.
One of the places he visited was a fortress in the mountains called 'Al Alamut'. As had always been the case before, Hassan was received with the reverence due to a scholar, and was allowed to stay for as long as he wanted as an honoured guest.
Weeks passed, months- and the Lord of Alamut became painfully aware that not all was as it was supposed to. His servants began whispering behind his back, and eventually no longer followed his commands.
Then, one day, he was confronted by Hassan- who told him in not so many words to pack his things and leave...If he valued his life.
Hassan gave him a piece of paper with his signature on it, telling him that the Governor of Khorasan would reimburse him with 5000 Dinar towards the material value of his fortress.
He thought this was a joke- why would the Governor of Khorasan even bother, on the words of a nobody like Hassan?
But to his surprise, the Governor paid without any qualms- and he kissed Hassan's signature into the bargain...
Not long after, the climate in Al Alamut changed drastically. Young men began to arrive- disciples of Hassan, who would undergo a highly intensive training:
They would study languages, the Q'uran, the Talmut, the Bible. They would learn about the customs of other countries, and be trained in the use of weapons.
Above all, they would learn unquestioning obediance to their master, Hassan.
The latter had one secret in particular which he knew to use to his advantage.
At some point during their training, the young disciples would have to spend some time in a cell, without food and with little water. They would be given something else instead: Hashish. Hassan was one of very few people at that time, and in that place, who knew what Hashish was and what it does.
Once the disciple had passed out, he would be transferred from his cell to the Castle-gardens. There were no windows anywhere in the buildings overlooking the gardens, and the only key was kept by a gatekeeper.
The gardens were in stark contrast to the surrounding forbidding landscape, with trees, flowers, and a fountain. Instead of water, there was wine coming out of it; and the awakening disciple would be treated to music and beautiful dancing-girls.
There would also be more Hashish, and eventually he would pass out again, only to awaken back in his cell.
He would be told that what he had experienced was a vision of heaven...
...And that master Hassan would know the way back to heaven.
All that was required was to follow the master's instructions without questioning.
Some say that it was this practise of consuming Hashish which gave them the name they became known by: Hashish-eaters, or 'Hassassin': Assassin.
Once their training was complete, fear descended unto the valleys surrounding Al Alamut: Imams murdered in their beds, village-headmen stabbed to death in the middle of the road.
Hassan's power began to grow. Some nobles began to see him as a threat, and they decided to do something about him.
Their leader awoke one morning and found a dagger stuck into the ground beside his bed in his tent. A piece of paper was wrapped around the hilt with a message from Hassan:"If it had been my will, this dagger would now be stuck in your chest".
Eventually they arrived at Alamut; as Hassan approached them, a herold told them to bow "...before him who holds the death of kings in his hands".
When they chose to be arrogant in his presence, Hassan gave a signal. The ramparts were filling with warriors. At another signal, one of them would jump off the ramparts into a ravine, to his death. Another signal, and another warrior drew his sword and cut his own throat.
Hassan pointed at his warriors, and said "I have got 12000 more. How many have you got?"
The nobles thought it wiser to sign an agreement with Hassan.
Then Sultan Saladin appeared on the scene, sweeping the crusaders before him.
To him, Hassan was in the way of unity within the Islamic world: Hassan had to go.
Sultan Saladin began to march on Alamut- until one day, he was attacked by his own bodyguards and had to defend himself, sword in hand. At the end, fifty of his trusted bodyguards lay dead- all of them Fidai (disciples of Hassan).
Not even Sultan Saladin could fight the crusaders on one side, and worry about Hassan's disciples of hell at the same time. Saladin gave in and left Hassan alone.
When the Frankish knights entered Damascus, they were attacked by a group of Assassin- their leader died in the attack. In response, they slaughtered the entire population of Damascus. But those people were Sunni- the Assassin were Shiites.
It did not matter to the crusaders.
Sinewy posted a poem by Omar Khayyam: Omar knew Hassan personally; they had shared the same teacher- Nizam Ul Mulq.
Nizam, who was described as a very wise and kind man, also died at the hands of a Fidai.
Assassin turned up in London, in Paris, in Cologne. Hassan's fame spread beyond the boundaries of the Islamic world. But by now, it was just thuggery- Hassan's successor was made of a different material, namely greed.
An Arabic historian by the name of Al Juvaini described the moment of Hassan's death. The old man, by then almost toothless, sat bolt-upright in bed, pointing at something which was not quite there, and proclaimed the secret of his success:
"...There is no such thing as truth...Everything is allowed!!!"
He then, in Juvaini's words, "...crawled back to the hell from whence he had emerged..."
This was the end of the 'Old man of the mountain', as he was known...
Some people seem to believe that he is back from the dead.
This is what Al Qaeda is supposed to be modelled on.
There is but one problem with that:
The Assassin were *NEVER* seen as any kind of rolemodel anywhere in the Islamic world, and were regarded as a heretical sect by both Sunni and Shiites...

This post has been edited by Devilsadvocate: Mar 20 2007, 11:50 PM
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Devilsadvocate
post Mar 25 2007, 09:50 PM
Post #25





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For Tocarm:
"The green fields of France" (Irish traditional)

"Well- how do you do, young Willie McBride;
do you mind if i sit here, down by your gravesite-
and rest for a while 'neath the warm summer-sun;
I've been walking all day, and i'm nearly done...
I can see by your gravestone you were only nineteen,
when you joined the great falling in nineteen-sixteen;
so i hope you died well, and i hope you died clean-
or, young Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?"
(Refrain:)
Did they beat the drums slowly,
did they play the fifes lowly-
did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play the 'last post' in chorus-
did the pipes play 'the flowers o' the forest?

"And did you leave there a wife or a sweetheart behind:
In some faithful heart, is your memory enshrined?
And- though you died back in nineteen-sixteen,
in some faithful heart, are you forever nineteen?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
enclosed and forever behind a glassframe-
in an old photograph, torn, battered and stained,
and faded to yellow, in a brown leather-frame?"
(Refrain)

"The sun now, it shines on the green fields of france,
and a mild summer's breeze makes the red poppies dance;
and look how the sun shines from under the clouds:
There's no gas, no barbed wire- there's no gun firing now...
But here in this graveyard, it's still 'no-mans-land'-
the countless white crosses stand mute in the sand:
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man-
to a whole generation that was butchered and damned..."
(Refrain)

"But young Willie McBride- I can't help wonder: Why?
And did those who lie here know why they did die?
Did they really believe when they answered the call-
did they really believe that this war would end wars?
But the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain-
the killing and dying were all done in vain:
For, young Willie McBride, it all happened again-
and again, and again, and again, and again..."
(Refrain)

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Guinan
post Mar 25 2007, 11:36 PM
Post #26


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Beautifully and poignantly sad DA...

Reminds me of 'Universal Soldier' by Donovan back in the 60's - 70's. That still gives me the shivers when I hear it.

Guinan
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Devilsadvocate
post Mar 26 2007, 11:27 PM
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QUOTE (Guinan @ Mar 25 2007, 10:36 PM)
Beautifully and poignantly sad DA...

Reminds me of 'Universal Soldier' by Donovan back in the 60's - 70's. That still gives me the shivers when I hear it.

Guinan

It was made famous around here about 25 or so years ago, by a traditional group called "Furey's and Davey Arthur".
There was a German singer who made a version in German; when i did my "Ersatz-dienst" (i was a conscientious objector), i made an additional verse to it:

"Soldat- gingst du glubig und gern in den Krieg,
fr Vaterland, Ordensband, Kaiser und Sieg;
Fr Familie und Ehre- fr deine Nation,
und fr deinen Gott- ja, fr die Zivilisation?
Hast du ihnen all ihre Lgen geglaubt:
Das Gott mit euch ist*, euch das tten erlaubt?
Das der andere ein Mrder, und du ein Held bist-
und vergasst das der Krieg seine Kinder auffrisst...?"
(Refrain:)
Und auch dich haben sie schon genauso belogen,
so wie sie es mit uns heute immer noch tun...
Und du hast ihnen alles gegeben:
Deine Kraft, deine Jugend, dein Leben...

*("Gott mit uns"="God with us" was inscribed on the belt-buckles of German soldiers during WW I)

(Translation:)
"Soldier, did you go to war believing and happily,
for the Fatherland, for medals, for the Kaiser and for victory;
For family and honour- for your nation,
and for your God- even for civilisation?
Did you believe all their lies:
That God is with you, that he allows you to kill?
That the other guy is a murderer, and that you are a hero-
and did you forget that war eats it's children...?"
(Refrain:)
And even to you, they were already lying,
as they are doing with us up to today...
And you gave them everything:
Your strength, your youth, your life...

W.J.B

I've seen one of those graveyards during a bicycle-tour through Belgium and France...at night. I wasn't sure what it was, so i took this huge torch i carried on the bike, and shone it over...It went on for *miles and miles*.
French, British, German...in a lot of cases, no one will ever know....
And the crosses are all the same.

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Sinewy
post Mar 27 2007, 03:19 PM
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Here is a poem, or a couplet from Mawlana (Rumi) in transliterated farsi (pardon me for not having the original farsi scripts) accompanied with a translation.

"Dunya hama haych o kaari dunya hama haych"
"Aye haych ze bahre haych dar haych mapaych"




The world is nothing, and everything (all actions) in the world is nothing.
Caution yourself, and don't go to an abyss for nothing in nothing.

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Sinewy
post Mar 27 2007, 03:28 PM
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And another one from Rumi:

Dar bagh shodam sabuh o gol michiam
Vaz didan-e baaghbaan hami tarsidam
Shirin sokhani ze baaghbaan be shenidam
Gol raa cheh mahall keh baagh raa baghshidam



I was in the garden in the morning and I was gathering roses.
And all the time I was afraid that the gardener would see me.
The gardener, however, only spoke these kind words:
A few roses are nothing as I give you the complete garden
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Devilsadvocate
post Mar 27 2007, 03:53 PM
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QUOTE (Sinewy @ Mar 27 2007, 02:19 PM)
Here is a poem, or a couplet from Mawlana (Rumi) in transliterated farsi (pardon me for not having the original farsi scripts) accompanied with a translation.

"Dunya hama haych o kaari dunya hama haych"
"Aye haych ze bahre haych dar haych mapaych"




The world is nothing, and everything (all actions) in the world is nothing.
Caution yourself, and don't go to an abyss for nothing in nothing.

...Talk about poignant- especially when connecting that with the bit about the soldier following lies above. And even more so considering that it was written long before the soldier was even thought of...
It reminds me a bit of the words of Giordano Bruno:
"Mundus Nihil Pulcherrimum"
"The world is a beautiful nothing..."

Something tells me that he knew who Mawlana was... rolleyes.gif
Thanks for that!
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Sinewy
post Mar 27 2007, 03:55 PM
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^^anytime. tongue.gif
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Sinewy
post Mar 29 2007, 01:20 PM
Post #32





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Here is a famous Afghan/Pashtun's poetry:



Shereen Omr (Sweet Life)



Shereen omr che terezhi dregha dregha
De obo pasay baiezhai dregha dregha

Da yaran laka goloona de bahar dee
Da khazan pa ta razhezhee dregha dregha




Translation:

Sweet life that passes by slowly slowly
Like water it flows slowly slowly


Friends are the flowers of spring
They follow the path of autumn slowly slowly



~Khushal Khan Khattak~
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Sinewy
post Mar 29 2007, 01:30 PM
Post #33





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Here is the great Persian poet Hafiz:

Har ruz dilam zr-e br degarast
Dar ddeye man ze hajr khr degarast
Man jahd hamkonam qaz mguyad
Brun ze kefyat-e to kr degarast

Every day my heart carries another burden;
Because of separation, in my eye there is another thorn.
I kept on striving, but fate kept on saying:
Beyond what is enough for you, there is another task.
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Sinewy
post Mar 29 2007, 01:34 PM
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From Jalaluddin Rumi:


Aanke bi baade konad jaan-e maraa mast kojaast
Vaanke birun konad az jaan o delam dast kojaast

Vaanke saugand khoram joz besar-e u nakhoram
Vaanke saugand-e man o taubeyaam eshkast kojaast

Vaanke jaanhaa besahr na'ra zanaand azu
Vaanke maaraa ghamash az jaai bebardasht kojaast

Jaan-e jaanast o gar jaai nadaarad che ajab
Ien ke jaami talabad dar tan-e maa hast kojaast

Ghamzeye cheshm bahaane-st o zaan su havasist
Vaanke u dar pas-e ghamze-st delam khast kojaast

Pardee roshan del bast o khiaalaat namud
Vaanke dar parde chonin parde-e del bast kojaast

Aql taa mast nashod chun o cheraa past nashod
Vaanke u mast shod az chun o cheraa rast kojaast


Translation:


The one who is able to make my soul intoxicated without wine, where is he?
And the one who is able to draw me outside of my soul and heart, where is he?

And the one by whom I swear, and I only swear on his head,
And the one who breaks my oath and my repentance, where is he?

And the one - early in the morning - who makes the souls cry out loud,
And the one whose grief has carried us away from our place, where is he?

He is the soul of souls - if he has no place, why would that be strange?
The one who searches for a cup and who is in our body, where is he?

The eyelids are only pretence and he has therefore capricious desires
And the one who from behind his eyelids wounds my heart, where is he?

The one who has closed the heart with a veil of light and gives visions to it,
And the one who has closed the veil of the heart with such a veil, where is he?

Reason is nothing compared to drunkenness; why and when are ruined,
And the one who is intoxicated and is free from why and when, where is he?
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Devilsadvocate
post Apr 2 2007, 06:37 PM
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Going...Going...gone!

"As i am a young man, i can feel the pride
in a place were people have nothing to hide;
Were honesty reigns and were truth is just that-
instead of a rabbit pulled out of a hat...

And as i get older, i still feel that pride-
though people have started to twist and to hide
the truth, and the rest.- I don't want to know;
I just want to watch the 'nostalgia-show'...

But then i get old, and there's none of it left-
the truth long since has been the subject of theft.
And while i am thinking of good ol' days gone,
my children just stare. And they say: "Dad- well done...!"

W.J.B (aka. Devilsadvocate)
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Devilsadvocate
post Apr 6 2007, 12:12 AM
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"Johnnie comes marching home" was originally an Irish folksong.
This is the original text:

JOHNNY I HARDLY KNEW YE
-1-
"When going the road to sweet Athy- haroo, haroo;
when going the road to sweet Athy- haroo, haroo;
when going the road to sweet Athy,
with a stick in me hand and a drop in me eye,
i heard a doleful damsel cry:'Johnny, i hardly knew ye'."

Refrain:
With your guns and drums and drums and guns, haroo, haroo:
with your guns and drums and drums and guns, haroo, haroo;
with your guns and drums and drums and guns
the enemy nearly slew ye- Oh, Johnny dear, you look so queer-
Johnny, i hardly knew ye!
-2-
"I'm happy for to see ye home, haroo, haroo;
I'm happy for to see ye home, haroo, haroo;
I'm happy for to see ye home,
all from the island of Ceylon-
so low in the flesh, so high in the bone- Johnny, i hardly knew ye!"

(Refrain)
-3-
"Where are the eyes with which you smiled- haroo, haroo;
where are the eyes with which you smiled, haroo, haroo;
where are the eyes with which you smiled,
when my poor heart you first beguiled-
Oh, why did you run from me and the child- Johnny, i hardly knew ye!"

(Refrain)
-4-
"Where are the legs with which you run, haroo, haroo;
where are the legs with which you run, haroo, haroo;
where are the legs with which you run,
when first you went to carry a gun-
i'm afraid your dancing days are done- Johnny, i hardly knew ye!"

(Refrain)
-5-
"Where are the arms which held me tight, haroo, haroo;
where are the arms which held me tight, haroo, haroo;
where are the arms which held me tight,
before you went away to fight-
Oh, Johnny dear, you don't look right- Johnny, i hardly knew ye!"

(Refrain)
-6-
"They told me how you fought so well, haroo, haroo;
they told me how you fought so well, haroo, haroo;
just like a man, you fought so well-
'til you got blasted by a shell;
and with that your manhood went to hell- Johnny, i hardly knew ye!"

(Refrain)
-7-
"You haven't an arm, you haven't a leg- haroo, haroo;
you haven't an arm, you haven't a leg- haroo, haroo;
you haven't an arm, you haven't a leg,
you're an eye-less, arm-less, chicken-less egg-
you'll have to be stood in your bowl to beg- Johnny, i hardly knew ye!"

(Refrain)
-8-
"They're rolling out the drums again, haroo, haroo;
they're rolling out the drums again, haroo, haroo;
they're rolling out the drums again,
to twist the minds of more young men-
and a million girls will cry again: 'Johnny, i hardly knew ye!'"

(Refrain)
-9-
"Now- when i look at little John, haroo, haroo;
now when i look at little John, haroo, haroo;
now when i look at little John,
our flesh and blood- our little son:
If i ever catch him play with a gun- (spoken) Johnny, ye hardly know me...!"

-Irish traditional, except 5,6 and 9- W.J.B-

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Tarya
post Apr 6 2007, 06:17 AM
Post #37


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Ode to Liberty (Ύμνος εις την Ελευθερίαν)
By Dionysios Solomos

Σὲ γνωρίζω ἀπὸ τὴν κόψι
τοῦ σπαθιοῦ τὴν τρομερή,
σὲ γνωρίζω ἀπὸ τὴν ὄψι
ποὺ μὲ βία μετράει τὴ γῆ.

Ἀπ τὰ κόκκαλα βγαλμένη
τῶν Ἑλλήνων τὰ ἱερά,
καὶ σὰν πρῶτα ἀνδρειωμένη,
χαῖρε, ὦ χαῖρε, Ἐλευθεριά!


Translation by Rudyard Kipling

We knew thee of old,
O, divinely restored
By the lights of thine eyes,
And the light of thy Sword.

From the graves of our slain,
Shall thy valour prevail,
As we greet thee again,
Hail, Liberty! Hail!
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Devilsadvocate
post Apr 6 2007, 11:52 AM
Post #38





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Posts: 1,370
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From: Ireland
Member No.: 551



! (Thank you!) cheers.gif


JAMOLOGIST:

There was a man who took the bus, in order to avoid the fuss
of being stuck in traffic-jams...but then he just had bags and prams
and people piled on top of him, while being at the drivers whim-
it felt to him a bit like rape, as he was squeezed (in sardine-shape!)
into a tin on wheels which went extremely slowly 'round the bend
and then inched past the traffic-lights. The road was filled with epic fights
for parking-spaces: One could see heroic deeds of bravery.
The air was filled with rising plumes (like gunsmoke...heavy exhaust-fumes),
while knights in armour wheeled about in Fords and Nissans. At this rout
the streets were lined with second-hand car-salesmen: for this merry band
of brothers saw a chance arise to make a killing. And these boys
were cheering on the combatants- while at the same time, at a glance
were seizing up the damage done: Just as in times now past and gone
the undertakers used to measure the size and shape at their own leisure
of those who did participate in gunfights- to precipitate
the manufacture and the sale of coffins. Our man went pale.
And as the bus did slowly rattle past all the carnage of the battle
(with vultures circling overhead) the man did watch, and thought he had
quite wisely chosen in the end- for bags and prams and people tend
to be the lesser evil when compared with what is outside. Then
he finally did manage to get off the bus. Well- yes, it's true:
He'd missed his stop two times already, and so he walked- slowly but steady
a dozen blocks back to his car. A parking-ticket from afar
he could make out: They clamped the wheels! He turned quite sharply on his heels-
A dozen blocks he slowly walked back to the station. He was stalked
by two used-car-salesmen, which he tried to ignore deliberately;
and with a minimum of fuss he bought a ticket on the bus
and home he went- where he did find that he had left his keys behind...

W.J.B

This post has been edited by Devilsadvocate: Apr 6 2007, 03:18 PM
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Tarya
post Apr 6 2007, 03:29 PM
Post #39


Library Team


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Posts: 170
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From: Middle Earth
Member No.: 82



Παρακαλώ smile.gif

It's a beautiful poem isn't it? These are just 2 out of 158 verses.
I didn't post the whole thing for obvious reasons tongue.gif
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Devilsadvocate
post Apr 6 2007, 03:52 PM
Post #40





Group: Respected Member
Posts: 1,370
Joined: 3-February 07
From: Ireland
Member No.: 551



QUOTE (Tarya @ Apr 6 2007, 02:29 PM)
smile.gif

It's a beautiful poem isn't it? These are just 2 out of 158 verses.
I didn't post the whole thing for obvious reasons tongue.gif

Yes- very beautiful; and very fitting. There are things well worth fighting for...even dying for. Sadly people all too often forget that firstly these things are worth *living* for... laugh.gif
(I take it the Greek phrase worked...all i get is funny letters from my end!)

This post has been edited by Devilsadvocate: Apr 6 2007, 06:19 PM
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