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trained-pianist
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« Reply #855 on: 23:58:56, 30-08-2008 » |
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That is the problem Auntie. The problem is that I don't know anything, anything at all. It is indeed very frustrating.  I remember being able to recite one or two short poetic lines in Welsh. That was top of my achievement in that language. I did find it very beautiful and melodious language. I liked my teachers very much. We had two or three during two years I studied. I miss those days terribly. |
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Antheil
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« Reply #856 on: 00:21:43, 31-08-2008 » |
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That is the problem Auntie
I am not your Auntie. Pay attention please. Either make sense or ship out. |
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Reality, sa molesworth 2, is so sordid it makes me shudder
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Bryn
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« Reply #857 on: 00:32:20, 31-08-2008 » |
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Ah, so it's bopa Anty now, is it. There's tidy.  |
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trained-pianist
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« Reply #858 on: 00:38:52, 31-08-2008 » |
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« Last Edit: 07:48:44, 05-09-2008 by trained-pianist »
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Mary Chambers
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« Reply #859 on: 06:22:26, 31-08-2008 » |
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Good morning. It's rained here, but it's still humid. I don't know why I'm awake.
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trained-pianist
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« Reply #860 on: 06:52:50, 31-08-2008 » |
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I did not have much sleep tonight. My friend (who is a doctor) told me yesterday that I need less sleep now because I am older.
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« Last Edit: 07:04:42, 31-08-2008 by trained-pianist »
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Sydney Grew
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« Reply #861 on: 07:06:51, 31-08-2008 » |
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I don't know why I'm awake. You may take heart Madame Chambers from the fact that you are not alone. The greatest philosophers have been pondering your problem for the past three thousand years. Indeed some of the more daring of them have gone so far as to substitute for your "why" the word "whether"! |
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trained-pianist
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« Reply #862 on: 07:33:20, 31-08-2008 » |
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A FAREWELL
Farewell! Forget the days of trial,
Of grudge, ill humor, misery--
Tempests of heart and floods of weeping,
And the revengeful jealousy.
Ah, but the days whereon the sun rose
To light love's wonder, and begot
In us the power of aspiration,--
bless them and forget them not!
NEKRASSOW.
We forgot about Nekrassov.
Here is his poem Morning, that I don't want to post in full because it is too long.
Morning
You're unhappy, sick at heart:
Oh, I know it-here such sickness isn't rare.
Nature can but mirror
The surrounding poverty.
All is ever drear and dismal,
Pastures, fields, and meadows,
Wet and drowsy jackdaws
Resting on the peaked haystacks;
Here's a drunken peasant driving
His collapsing nag
Into far-off blueish mists,
Such a gloomy sky . . . It makes one weep!
The rich city is no better, though:
The same storm clouds race across the sky;
It's hard on the nerves-steel shovels
Scraping, screeching as they clean the streets
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Kittybriton
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« Reply #863 on: 13:47:42, 31-08-2008 » |
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It's well past midnight as I lie
In a semi-conscious state.
I dream of people fighting me
Without any reason I can see.
In the morning I awake,
My arms my legs my body aches,
The sky outside is wet and grey
So begins another weary day.
So begins another weary day. |
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Click me -> About meor me -> my handmade storeNo, I'm not a complete idiot. I'm only a halfwit. In fact I'm actually a catfish. |
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trained-pianist
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« Reply #864 on: 17:44:34, 31-08-2008 » |
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Poems by Balys Sruoga
(1896 – 1947)
SONG OF MIST
The smooth oar lifts no spray,
The soft breeze dies away,
There's joy in store today.
The waves a silence binds,
The rowboot softly glides,
The road of mourners winds.
If but a sigh you'd spare!
Did you not hear, or care,
When storms beset me there?
From yearning I was lost,
By gales my heart was tossed,
In mist my dreams were crossed.
The oar slips through the air,
My heart weeps in despair,
Unheeded is my prayer.
Translated by Peter Tempest
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harmonyharmony
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« Reply #866 on: 09:06:59, 02-09-2008 » |
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I'm up and apparently awake. Feel better but still not 100% yet. Paracetamol with breakfast as headache was still lurking. Vision is a hell of a lot better but stomach still feels a bit weird.
It is a beautiful sunny day and I can see plenty of blue sky from my window.
Today shouldn't be so bad at work. I have to mark a dissertation resit but also have a meeting with the technicians to retrieve data from my old computer, to repair an external hard drive that's been on the blink for a few years, and to install some software on my new laptop.
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'is this all we can do?' anonymous student of the University of Berkeley, California quoted in H. Draper, 'The new student revolt' (New York: Grove Press, 1965) http://www.myspace.com/itensemble |
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Ron Dough
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« Reply #867 on: 09:08:50, 02-09-2008 » |
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If you have sunglasses, they might be a good idea, hh - it's very bright just now.
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Don Basilio
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« Reply #868 on: 11:17:43, 02-09-2008 » |
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hh - it's very bright just now.
Not South of Hadrian's Wall, it isn't. Or at least South of Watford (twinned as Rossini lovers among will know with Pesaro.) |
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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
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Ron Dough
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« Reply #869 on: 16:34:32, 02-09-2008 » |
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Yes, Don B, but I know that hh is considerably North of Hadrian's vallum: being aware what bright light can do to migraine sufferers, it was an admonition to him in the (literal) light of his present circumstance.
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