Οι νότες πάλλονται γύρω μου
Και ο ήλιος λάμπει έξω.
Ένα ποτάμι κυλούσε εδώ κάποτε,
Ακούω ακόμα την φωνή του.
Της Κυριακής το όνειρο
Κρατάει ως τη Δευτέρα,
Κι η λύση που βρίσκεις δεύτερη
Συχνά είν’η πιο καλή..
Τα δέντρα ψιθυρίζουμε
Εδώ θα σου αρέσει!
Χαμογελώ, είναι μια αρχή.
Ας γυρίσουμε τον τροχό ξανά.
Before the shadowed mirror
She stood, backlit in soft glow
From a single lamp on the left,
The dancing flame softening
The lines of a sleepless,
Merry night – For it had been indeed!
She stood, caught in the dregs
Of midnight magic fading,
Holding proudly, the visage
Of a Roman empress in colour
And style, but in dress more humble,
Wrapped in the softened glow of the everyday.
She fancied she saw held,
In the silver disk before her,
Caught as she was betwixt,
Divine and mundane,
That then she was more beautiful
Belonging to a Raphaelite painting.
Too delicate, she felt herself,
For harsh reality’s harsh sunlight.
She shied away, covered the glass,
Such fancies fade away with time.
The Moon rose red
And we slipped through the shadows;
Like wraiths of smoke
Silently twisting.
We ducked under lights
And slipped in the Garden,
And under the nightflower bloom
We sang the old names.
The wind rolled through clouds
The thunder boomed in the east
And still we sang and danced round the tree.
If it was rain that hid us,
As we slipped back to the real,
Who was there to say
How we shone under the Blood Moon?
Dearest fly, you who’re buzzing,
Kindly go, for now, away!
You’re too loud, too distracting,
While I’m trying to read and write.
There are other clients here,
Gossips, tourists and what-have-you;
Why you then prefer us working?
Why this questionable attraction?
In other news, I’m sitting at Starbucks, catching up with my -ahem- blog stalking, and this HUGE fly won’t go away. Is it even huge-fly-season right now?
Γνωστό και ως: να τι συμβαίνει όταν διαβάζω ένα αρχαίο Ιρλανδικό κείμενο σε Αγγλική μετάφραση και πίνω καφέ….
Τα πέντε αδέρφια και η Βασιλεία
Του βασιλιά οι πέντε γιοι
Είχανε πάει κυνήγι
Τρεις μέρες μέσα στο δάσος,
Και τρεις πέρα στον κάμπο,
Και άλλες τρεις γυρνάγανε,
Στον λόγγο σαν χαμένοι.
Δίχως νερό, δίχως κρασί
Η δύναμη τους λείπει.
Μα στα κοντά ακούγανε
Μια πηγή να ρέει.
Πρώτος ο Φέργκους προσπαθεί
Την δίψα του να σβήσει,
Μα φύλακας μπρος στην πηγή
Μια γριά εκεί στέκει.
Μαύρη σαν δαίμονας,
Κυρτή σαν δρυ,
Με μάτια σαν αστέρια,
Στον πρίγκηπα δίνει τιμή
Για το νερό ένα φιλί.
Την δίψα ο Φέργκους προτιμά,
Στ’αδέρφια του γυρνάει.
Ο Όλιολ, ο Μπράιαν,
Κι ο Φιάχρα προσπαθούν,
Την ίδια μοίρα βρίσκουν,
Πριν ο Νιαλ, ο μικρότερος,
Για την πηγή κινήσει.
‘Γεια σου Μητέρα, λίγο νερό.’
‘Για ένα φιλί σου δίνω.
Την αγκαλιάζει, την φιλά,
Μια βροντή ηχά μακριά
Και μπρος του ξάφνου στέκει
Μια κόρη ομορφότερη
Από τα ρόδα του αγρού,
Όλα τ’αστέρια τα’ουρανού,
Της θάλασσας το κύμα.
‘Η Βασιλεία είμαι εγώ,
Η χώρα αυτή σου ανήκει.
Πες στον πατέρα σου, στους αδερφούς,
Πως άξιο σε κηρύττω.’
Μ’αυτά τα λόγια χάθηκε
Και με νερό ο Νιαλ γυρνάει.
Στους αδερφούς του την ιστορία λέει,
Στην Τάρα τον πηγαίνουνε
Και βασιλιά τον στέφουν.
Oooooh, a tag! Haven’t seen one of those in while! (Well if you bothered to actually stick around on WordPress for more than 5 minutes at a time…)
-ahem- Big thanks to the ever-lovely Irena S. for the nomination! Not sure if I’ll manage to do the full thing, small as it is, I’m on essay writing mode right now… Here goes anyway!
The rules:
And quote #1, from literally the first book next to me right now. It’s from Diary of a Witchcraft Shop by Trevor Jones and Liz Williams and every page of it is hilarious!
“Walking down the High St last night, I was suddenly accosted by St George, in full armour and a sword, who leaped out of the doorway of the George and Pilgrim, exclaiming, ‘Ah! A damsel!’ I explained that I was not, however, in distress and St George disappeared. But it’s the thought that counts.”
If you fancy seeing what living in as crazy a place as Glastonbury is like, I’d say check it out.
Now…who to nominate…Oh, I know! -cue the Pokemon theme- I choose Cora and Brittany! Yes, I know it says three people on the tin but my list of blogs I follow isn’t exactly huge, so if I’m going to do all three days I need to have people to keep tagging! Of course, since the people in question are not stuffed in Pokeballs, there’s no pressure to do the tag. Gotta admit it’s fun though!
Rest on my table by my bed
In your brightly coloured dress;
Signs of were and is and might still be
All piled together in white and pink.
I may acknowledge but I resent
I want what it was and what it wasn’t.
These days I can’t seem to make
My own mind amidst the contradictions.
It’s not your fault-
Or maybe it is- I know not.
So I keep staring.
Author’s note: I’ve been reading Beowulf. That should prepare you, right?
Brimwylf
I sit in my borrow and breathe in the salty air.
My child, my only child, he goes a-hunting again.
That May so long ago, I should have brought
The hawthorn to the hall.
Better luck it would have been
Than the shadow with which I danced.
My sweet wolf-cub, you have your father’s tastes,
The moss was red, on the ground where we lay.
He gave me his sword, heirloom for our child,
A dagger to keep as mine, both tainted
With his kind’s touch. How thankful can my heart be;
I bore no daughter to, like me, foolish me,
Chase shadow in the warm night’s air.
He up and left us like grey smoke,
My monstrous babe and I, having to hide from the world.
I was a fair-haired maid once, my eyes shone too bright.
Now under a lake we hide, my child and I.
My babe, you call for me, who wounded you in the arm?
Your blood has painted the path to our home,
Oh, what shall I do?
Όντας φοιτήτρια με ρωτάνε συχνά
Απο χώρα σε χώρα, ποια η διάφορα;
Είναι η γλώσσα, οι τρόποι, τα σπίτια
(κοντά ή ψηλά;)
Κι εγώ γελαω και λέω πως όχι,
Ή μάλλον ναι, είναι όλα αυτά,
Και τα χαμόγελα που άλλοι δίνουν απλόχερα,
Και η κουζίνα και οι τρόποι μεταφοράς.
Μα πανω απ’ολα είναι το φως.
Το φως που ρέει χρυσο στα μάρμαρα της Αττικής
Και σ’αγγαλιάζει σαν παλιός φίλος,
Που παιζει κρυφτό στις ελιές και κανει την θάλασσα να λάμπει.
Το φως στην Αγγλία (κρύο ή ζέστη κι αν κανει)
Το βρίσκω ψυχρό, λευκό κι αστραφτερό σαν πάγο.
Φωτίζει τα παντα, καίει τις σκιές σαν προβολέας σε σκηνή.
Απόμακρος ο βόρειος ήλιος δεν σταματά
Με αυτους που τον καλωσοριζουν λιγα λεπτα να περάσει.
It was the best of times
It was the worst of days
But in the end
So long as we stood together
We could watch the world burn…
That’s what he told her with a smile
As she handed him the match,
And at their feet there stood
Piles of old photographs,
Letters, mementos of people they knew.
There were no tears-
There need not be.
As the smoke spiralled upward
They left the past behind
And hand in hand they walked,
Out to the sunlight,
Out to their own new world.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away… 