Pljuvam Skozi Okno
Pljuvam skozi okno in gledam kam pljunec leti
sonce zahaja nekje dalec' grmi vidim tvoj pogled kako v prazno brez
volje
lez'i
v dimu cigarete se tudi moj razmegli
Z'e tretji dan dez'uje in mene glava boli
si kdaj vidu kako kac'a trpi valja se v vroc'ini kjer je vedno lepo bilo
poletje brez vec'erov je kot belo zlato
song performed by Zmelkoow
Added by Lucian Velea
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La Chronique Ascendante des Ducs de Normandie
Mil chent et soisante anz out de temps et d'espace
puiz que Dex en la Virge descendi par sa grace,
quant un clerc de Caen, qui out non Mestre Vace,
s'entremist de l'estoire de Rou et de s'estrasce,
qui conquist Normendie, qui qu'en poist ne qui place,
contre l'orgueil de France, qui encor les menasce,
que nostre roi Henri la congnoissë et sace.
Qui gaires n'a de rentes ne gaires n'en porcache ;
mez avarice a frait a largesce sa grace,
ne peut lez mainz ouvrir, plus sont gelez que glace, .
ne sai ou est reposte, ne truiz train ne trace;
qui ne soit losengier ne encort liu ne place,
a plusors i fait on la cue lovinace.
Ce ne fu mie el temps Virgile ne Orace
ne el temps Alixandre ne Cesar ne Estace,
lores avoit largesce vertu et efficace.
Du roi Henri voil faire ceste premiere page,
qui prist Alianor, dame de haut parage,
Dex doinst a ambedeuls de bien faire courage!
Ne me font mie rendre a la court le musage,
de dons et de pramesses chascun d' euls m' asouage ;
mez besoing vient souvent qui tost sigle et tost nage,
et souvent me fait meitre le denier et le gage.
France est Alienor et debonnaire et sage ;
roÿne fu de France en son premier aage,
Looÿs l' espousa qui out grant mariage;
en Jerusalem furent en lonc pelerinage,
assez y traist chescun travail et ahanage,
Quant reparriez s' en furent, par conseil du barnage
s' em parti la roÿne o riche parentage;
de cele departie n'out elle nul damage ;
a Poitiers s'en ala, son naturel manage,
n'i out plus prochain heir qu'el fu de son lignage.
Li roiz Henri la prist o riche mariage,
cil qui tint Engleterre et la terre marage
entre Espaingne et Escosce, de rivage en rivage ;
grant parole est de lui et de son vasselage,
des felons qu'il destraint comme oysel clos en cage ;
n' a baron en sa terre o si grant herbergage
qui ost le pais enfraindre em plein ne en boscage,
se il peut estre ataint, n'et des membres hontage,
ou qu'il n'i lest le cors ou l' ame en ostage.
La geste voil de Rou et dez Normanz conter,
lors faiz et lor proësce doi je bien recorder.
Les boisdies de France ne font mie a celer,
tout tens voudrent Franchoiz Normanz desheriter
et tout tens se penerent d' euls vaincre et d'els grever,
et quant Franceiz nes porent par force sormonter
par plusors tricheries lez soulent agraver ;
[...] Read more
Jaz Se Vrtim
Ne verjamem ko gre za oc'itne laz'i
ne panic'arim dokler ne vidim krvi
se ne zaljubim c'e ne gre za boz'ji dar
in ne pozdravim dokler ne slis'im fanfar
ne c'ujem zvoka dokler ne slis'im kitar
in ne ubijam c'e ni v igri velik dnar
se ne zalaufam c'e lih avtobus odhaja nisem pes da bi v avte se zaganjal
Jaz se vrtim jaz se vrtim jaz se vrtim dosti bolj dalec' kot se zdi
Ne gledam kart v nobenem sluc'aju
moc'no dvomim da se bom sonc'il v raju
me ne s'okira bela mis' iz klobuka
in ne joc'em c'e ni res velika muka
si ne predstavljam kako iz nic' nastane vse
in sovraz'im dolgoc'asne govore
ne izzivam ker sem prelen za pretep
nisem bogat ker dnar sovraz'i moj z'ep
Jaz se vrtim jaz se vrtim jaz se vrtim dosti bolj dalec' kot se zdi
song performed by Zmelkoow
Added by Lucian Velea
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Punch Up At 'Dart Man's Aim
Fifteen stone and just five foot eight
And yet he doesn't seem overweight
Deep, deep chest and shoulders wide
The strongest in this countryside.
He's the mighty Dan the frog
From the house beside the bog
Swarthy looking with raven hair
A happy man without a care.
He's no plans to take a wife
As he prefers the single life
And he's still a young man anyway
Just twenty five on his last birthday
Froggy is his dad's nickname
And that's from where the name frog came
But his nickname of frog he doesn't appreciate
In fact the word called frog he's grown to hate.
Fastest man for miles around
To part with the green back pound
In him you'll find nothing cheap
Money he can't seem to keep.
He's a happy sort of bloke
Happy even when he's broke
He's got the right mentality
Never down, always carefree.
Likes his guinness doesn't like beer
Drinks his liquor with good cheer,
Whiskey makes the man walk tall
And he likes whiskey best of all.
He is merciful though strong
And without good reason won't do wrong
But do him wrong and he will fight
And with his fists he'll put things right.
He'd prefer to crack your jaw
Than chastise you with the law
Solves his problems like a man
That's the way it is with Dan.
And though when need arise he can be hard
Dan the frog is no blaghguard
But his type you don't kick around
As men like him do not yield ground
[...] Read more
poem by Francis Duggan
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Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
I zaronimo u geometriju oštrih slijepih uglova
Što žive svoje živote izmedu dva sna
Milimetri snage mogu se istopiti
U mapama i stazama
Muzejima na raskršcu
U semaforima što bespomocno trepcu
Kad želje bilborduju staze do pakla
U slike obmane grube zabave za posjetioce što kažu
Mi smo sad fini pristojni ljudi
Više ne gledamo kako mecka igra
Probadana žaracem
Jer smo saznali bol njenog makabra
Ali ipak smo stavili rukavice
Otišli do njenog Zoo vrta
Tražeci da nam da intervju
Iako nikad ni rijec nije rekla
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Ispisuje se jedan aforizam bola
Što hrani se na kraju redova
I stiska adresu remek djelo
On pulsira 'mjesta molim mjesta da pokucam
Bez imena mrtva ste ulica
Došao sam da zaplacem kraj zvona na vratima
Što zvoni spram putujeceg prodavca snova
Što došao je samo da pozdravi majku
Jer danas ne prodaje ništa
Cak ni Boga za mjesecni prihod
Nijedan recept za srecniji život
Danas je došao da pita spavace sobe na spratu
O malom djecaku što mokrio je u krevet
I skrivao svoje košmare pod dušek
I matrici dizajniranoj što živi u kutiji za igracke
Medu jednonogim olovnim vojnicima
Kraj lutke djevojcice sa šibicama
Obešcašcene pod Božicnom jelkom'
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Vozovi stanu zanijemili na šinama
Slijepi se putnici iskrcavaju peroni pucaju
Trgovi se crvene od paradajz revolucija
Što flertuju sa metaforama krvi
Bare podojene majkom hrabrošcu
Isparavaju u sušama južnih zraka
I vracaju se sa rodama što ne radaju djecu
Na dan kada naucimo kako ulice dobijaju imena
Zidovi stružu svoju farbu suzno tražeci
Boju necijih ociju u svakoj zidanost da udave
I apokalipticno kripticni grafiti
[...] Read more
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Court Of Love
With timerous hert and trembling hand of drede,
Of cunning naked, bare of eloquence,
Unto the flour of port in womanhede
I write, as he that non intelligence
Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence;
Sauf that me list my writing to convey,
In that I can to please her hygh nobley.
The blosmes fresshe of Tullius garden soote
Present thaim not, my mater for to borne:
Poemes of Virgil taken here no rote,
Ne crafte of Galfrid may not here sojorne:
Why nam I cunning? O well may I morne,
For lak of science that I can-not write
Unto the princes of my life a-right
No termes digne unto her excellence,
So is she sprong of noble stirpe and high:
A world of honour and of reverence
There is in her, this wil I testifie.
Calliope, thou sister wise and sly,
And thou, Minerva, guyde me with thy grace,
That langage rude my mater not deface.
Thy suger-dropes swete of Elicon
Distill in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray;
And thee, Melpomene, I calle anon,
Of ignoraunce the mist to chace away;
And give me grace so for to write and sey,
That she, my lady, of her worthinesse,
Accepte in gree this litel short tretesse,
That is entitled thus, 'The Court of Love.'
And ye that ben metriciens me excuse,
I you besech, for Venus sake above;
For what I mene in this ye need not muse:
And if so be my lady it refuse
For lak of ornat speche, I wold be wo,
That I presume to her to writen so.
But myn entent and all my besy cure
Is for to write this tretesse, as I can,
Unto my lady, stable, true, and sure,
Feithfull and kind, sith first that she began
Me to accept in service as her man:
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Tearful Tale Of Captain Dan
A sinner was old Captain Dan;
His wives guv him no rest:
He had one wife to East Skiddaw
And one to Skiddaw West.
Now Ann Eliza was the name
Of her at East Skiddaw;
She was the most cantankerous
Female you ever saw.
I don’t know but one crosser-grained,
And of this Captain Dan
She was the wife at Skiddaw West—
She was Eliza Ann.
Well, this old skeesicks, Captain Dan,
He owned a ferryboat;
From East Skiddaw to Skiddaw West
That vessel used to float.
She was as trim a ferry-craft
As ever I did see,
And on each end a p’inted bow
And pilothouse had she.
She had two bows that way, so when
She went acrost the sound
She could, to oncet, run back ag’in
Without a-turnin’ round.
Now Captain Dan he sailed that boat
For nigh on twenty year
Acrost that sound and back ag’in,
Like I have stated here.
And never oncet in all them years
Had Ann Eliza guessed
That Dan he had another wife
So nigh as Skiddaw West.
Likewise, Eliza Ann was blind,
Howas she never saw
As Dan he had another wife
Acrost to East Skiddaw.
The way he fooled them female wives
Was by a simple plan
That come into the artful brain
Of that there Captain Dan.
[...] Read more
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Feast
Mari kita memulai kisah
Tentang sang raja dan sang singa
Anak manusia dan penguasa rimba
Dari padang rumput mereka terlahir
Dengan kebanggaan dan harapan
Dengan bahaya dan cobaan
Jauh, jauhkan dahulu kedengkian itu
Kita buka dengan babak penuh kedamaian
Menghisap embun pagi yang sama
Menatap dunia baru dengan mata terbuka
Alangkah manis pemandangan mereka yang tak berdosa
Lalu perjumpaan sederhana di tepi kolam
Di mana surga dan neraka amatlah tipis bedanya
Tempat kau mengangkat taring untuk musuh
Atau mencakar lembut tangan sahabat
Bermain bersama di sela-sela semak
Berguling penuh debu di bawah sinar matahari terik
Sungguhkah mereka akan menjadi raja dan singa
Tubuh yang tumbuh menjadi sempurna
Pikiran yang terjalin menjadi pemahaman
Gerbang kedewasaan mengantar mereka pada perpisahan
Peraturan istana dan insting liar
Demi kekuasaan dan harga diri
Mereka tidak berpisah dengan air mata
Karena mereka diajari untuk tidak menangis
Mereka berpisah dengan darah
Tradisi dan perburuan
Pembantaian dan penghinaan
Sang singa mengaum dengan keras
Dengan surainya yang kini lebat terurai
Sementara sang raja terpencil
Di tahtanya yang dingin dan sorak sorai penonton
Mereka merindukan masa-masa itu
Masa saat mereka bertatapan tanpa penuh kebencian
Dan bilamana bulu keemasan itu tiba di pangkuan sang raja
Sang raja menandai pemerintahannya
Dan sang singa mati demi sahabatnya
Ini bukanlah cerita yang perlu diratapi
Baik sang raja maupun sang singa
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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That's not it-To nije to
Excuse me sir
You look like someone I've met before
And I am sure it is like that
I'm sure everyone has met everyone before
In what's called preceding lives
Do you believe in that sir
I mean those karmas
Moving along cyclic zodiacs
Made of illiterate stars
Sounds quite familiar to me
A life through trials and errors
I think sir
When I outstretch the palm of my hand
(Do not worry you don't have to give me any
Of your monthly revenue
I am not that kind of a beggar)
When I outstretch the palm of my hand
And look at those divinely entangled lines
So cryptic
That are supposed to determine my fate
I think there's got to be some mistake there
That they are not there to determine me
But to tell me that this palm belongs to me only
That I am just like you sir
A creature born once a creature divine
Unrepeatable and free
For most when I outstretch the palm of my hand
To see my own geometry of the universe
Or to turn it into a fist
To strike the face of Fortune
Then I think sir
For sure we've all met before
In the faces of Adam and Eve
Hitting their foreheads against the ground
Once they vaguely hinted the Heaven is perhaps
Nothing but a wholeness of a soul in unity with its Creator
And Hell the lack of the same thing
Yes I am sure we've met before
In the face of Christ crucified on the cross
That redeemed us through his blood
For a dream in which an Idiot
Will not have to find a compartment
In which he would, with a roomful of thoughts
In his head just like me right now,
He would not have to repeat
That's not it that's not it until he cannot
Thinking perhaps about those marbles of lifeful life
Whose glimmer fades away once they break out on the surface
To dry in the fire of their own eyes
Thinking that's not it that's not it
[...] Read more
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Gravitacija (Vec Kot Spijemo)
Ve kot spijemo bolji smo in lepe zgledamo
Po zgledu najboljega benda iz Kneaka
smo naredili en komad za Zmelkoowa junaka
je voh kot poljsko pivo in hiter kot raketa
in skoi v daljino 3m brez zaleta
Smo li biciklirat od Izole do Kopra
in smo skoraj ostali brez areta basista
na levi strani morje na desni je bla cesta
nad nami nebo nad njim pa nebesa
Na rexu je are zgubil ravnoteje
na ravnem odseku je zgrmel dol na skale
je blo tam eno dete v cvetu pubertete
je brez modrka leala na brisai od tete
Ve kot spijemo bolji smo in lepe zgledamo
Je gravitacija melon ukrivila aretu pogled
in je pista pod njim zgubila pravo smer
e sreo je imel da je padu na glavo
njemu ni blo ni malo je okruil skalo
Medtem pa je Damjan povozu maara
ki je vijoliasto opeen menjal gumo ves nesreen
jaz sem pa zgazu cel taborniki vod
s kazalci v zraku so iskali zahod
in naj e kdo ree da je pri tabornikih varno
varen si samo e poiva doma
Zgodba je izmiljena a to sploh ni vano
le po nauku se vidi kolko pesnik velja
1 2 5 7 9
Ve kot spijemo bolji smo in lepe zgledamo
song performed by Zmelkoow
Added by Lucian Velea
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Prologus
Incipit Liber Primus
Naturatus amor nature legibus orbem
Subdit, et vnanimes concitat esse feras:
Huius enim mundi Princeps amor esse videtur,
Cuius eget diues, pauper et omnis ope.
Sunt in agone pares amor et fortuna, que cecas
Plebis ad insidias vertit vterque rotas.
Est amor egra salus, vexata quies, pius error,
Bellica pax, vulnus dulce, suaue malum.
I may noght strecche up to the hevene
Min hand, ne setten al in evene
This world, which evere is in balance:
It stant noght in my sufficance
So grete thinges to compasse,
Bot I mot lete it overpasse
And treten upon othre thinges.
Forthi the Stile of my writinges
Fro this day forth I thenke change
And speke of thing is noght so strange,
Which every kinde hath upon honde,
And wherupon the world mot stonde,
And hath don sithen it began,
And schal whil ther is any man;
And that is love, of which I mene
To trete, as after schal be sene.
In which ther can noman him reule,
For loves lawe is out of reule,
That of tomoche or of tolite
Welnyh is every man to wyte,
And natheles ther is noman
In al this world so wys, that can
Of love tempre the mesure,
Bot as it falth in aventure:
For wit ne strengthe may noght helpe,
And he which elles wolde him yelpe
Is rathest throwen under fote,
Ther can no wiht therof do bote.
For yet was nevere such covine,
That couthe ordeine a medicine
To thing which god in lawe of kinde
Hath set, for ther may noman finde
The rihte salve of such a Sor.
It hath and schal ben everemor
That love is maister wher he wile,
Ther can no lif make other skile;
For wher as evere him lest to sette,
Ther is no myht which him may lette.
Bot what schal fallen ate laste,
[...] Read more
poem by John Gower
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O'Toole And McSharry
In the valley of the Lachlan, where the perfume from the pines
Fills the glowing summer air like incense spreading;
Where the silent flowing river like a bar of silver shines
When the winter moon it pallid beams is shedding;
In a hut on a selection, near a still and silent pool,
Lived two mates, who used to shear and fence and carry;
The one was known near and far as Dandy Dan O'Toole
And the other as Cornelius McSharry.
And they'd share each other's blankets, and each other's horses ride,
And go off together shearing in the summer;
They would canter on from sunrise to the gloaming, side by side,
While McSharry rode the Barb and Dan the Drummer.
And the boys along the Lachlan recognised it as a rule
From Eugowra to the plains of Wanandarry,
That if ever love was stronger than McSharry's for O'Toole
'Twas the love O'Toole extended to McSharry.
And their love might have continued and been constant to the end
And they might have still been affable and jolly,
But they halted at a shanty where the river takes a bend,
And were waited on by Doolan's daughter, Polly.
Now, this pretty Polly Doolan was so natty, neat and cool
And so pleasant that they both agreed to tarry,
For she winked her dexter eyelid at susceptible O'Toole,
While she slyly winked the other — at McSharry.
So they drank her health in bumpers till the rising of the moon,
And she had them both in bondage so completely
That each time they talked of going she said, "Must you go so soon?"
And they couldn't go, she smiled at them so sweetly.
Dan O'Toole grew sentimental and McSharry played the fool,
Though they each had sworn an oath they'd never marry,
Yet the self-same dart from Cupid's bow that vanquished Dan O'Toole
Had gone through the heart of honest Con McSharry.
Then McSharry thought if Dandy Dan got drunk and went to bed,
He (McSharry) could indulge his little folly,
And Dan thought if McSharry once in drunken sleep lay spread,
He could have a little flirt with pretty Polly;
So they kept the bottle going till they both were pretty full,
And yet each rival seemed inclined to tarry;
The precise amount of pain-killer it took to fill O'Toole,
Was required to close the optics of McSharry.
So the rivals lost their tempers and they called each other names
And disturbed the Doolan children from their pillows,
And when Doolan came and told them that he wouldn't have such games,
They must go and fight it out beneath the willows.
So they went beneath the willows, near a deep and shady pool,
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas E. Spencer
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Puisi Sembilan Tabiat Cinta
Sembilan Tabiat Cinta
I.
Musim-musim hampiri cintaku. Padamu tak sempat kutitip rindu. Hujan pergi tinggalkan basah daunan. Aroma kembang menyemerbak ke udara. Tak ada wangi cintaku di sana. Segersang rindu di matamu akan diriku. Dahaga sepi dan nyerinya tertahan di atas sebidang dadaku. Resah bibirmu, terlampau suram kujamah warnanya. Apa kau tak mendengar degup musim menghujam jantung cintaku. Di sana rindu membiru di bibir waktu. Sebiru resahmu.
II.
Aku tulis tabiat cinta ini dengan ingatan terpenggal musim hujan. Terkambang bah di sungai coklat, terapung di selat kecil ditinggalkan para pengumpul pasir. Tak ada sauh tak ada jangkar untuk kulempar biar perahu waktu berhenti. Sebab laju perahu, nyeri gelombang lautan yang menderita di jantungku. Maka kutulis tabiat cinta ini atas nama rasa yang kurasa kesejukannya setiap embun jatuh seperti matamu menatapku.
III.
Aku mencintaimu bukan tanpa perhitungan, meski belum sepenuhnya tepat waktu. Tetapi aku tidak tergesa-gesa. Itulah sebabnya cintaku mengalir tenang. Serupa capung-capung senjahari terbang di atas hamparan padi menguning.
IV.
Cintaku hidup dari udara pagi di lembah-lembah, sawah dan ladang. Berhembus ke samudra mencipta awan. hujan deras adalah kesetiaanku padamu. Kesetiaan musim pada kesejukan. Dan apabila badai dan banjir datang itulah cemburu batinku yang sialan. Apa kau tak merasa ada kehidupan diantara jarak kita memandang?
V.
Kepadamu aku mencari kekuatan hidup dengan segala kesadaran dan fitrah kemanusiaan. Lalu cinta kubangkitkan di dalamnya dengan tangan-tangan api dan air. Hawa panas dan dingin adalah nafasku. Apa kau tak merasa hembusnya kekasih?
VI.
Tak ada kuasa untuk cinta. Jika ketakutan hadir sebab cemburu. Aku bicara dari lubuk bumi. Meski tak ada pohon bicara. Engkaulah maha pendengar kata-kata yang menjelma dedaunan dan reranting subur. Aku tersiksa oleh cinta. Kau tentu tak sudi mengurai air mata, ketika luka batinku menjeritkan nyeri letusan berapi. Tetapi, biarlah lahar panas menyulap rinduku.
VII.
Kita selalu bicara tentang cinta, nestapa, dan impian sejak pertemuan pertama. Meneguk anggur sampai mabuk, hingga kesadaran tunai di persimpangan menuju hidupmu-menemu hidupku. Kita sepakat lupakan segala, madu dan darah kita, lalu kita penuhi dengan air raksa.
VIII.
Cintaku, rasa sakit dari masa lalu, tak terasa oleh nyeri hari ini untuk masa depan.
IX.
Mari kita berdoa satu sama lain.
Yogyakarta,2011-2012
poem by Selendang Sulaiman
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Dan's Wife
Up in early morning light,
Sweeping, dusting, 'setting right,'
Oiling all the household springs,
Sewing buttons, tying strings,
Telling Bridget what to do,
Mending rips in Johnny's shoe,
Running up and down the stair,
Tying baby in her chair,
Cutting meat and spreading bread,
Dishing out so much per head,
Eating as she can by chance,
Giving husband kindly glance;
Toiling, working, busy life,--
Smart woman,
Dan's wife.
Dan comes home at fall of night,
Home so cheerful, neat, and bright;
Children meet him at the door,
Pull him in and looked him o'er;
Wife asks how the work has gone.
'Busy times with us at home!'
Supper done, Dan reads with ease,--
Happy Dan, but one to please!
Children must be put to bed--
All the little prayers are said;
Little shoes are placed in rows,
Bedclothes tucked o'er little toes;
Busy, noisy, wearing life,--
Tired woman,
Dan's wife.
Dan reads on and falls asleep--
See the woman softly creep;
Baby rests at last, poor dear,
Not a word her heart to cheer;
Mending-basket full to top,
Stockings, shirt, and little frock;
Tired eyes and weary brain,
Side with darting, ugly pain;
'Never mind, 'will pass away,'
She must work, but never play;
Closed piano, unused books,
Done the walks to easy nooks,
Brightness faded out of life,--
Saddened woman,
Dan's wife.
Upstairs, tossing to and fro,
Fever holds the woman low;
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Omamori
Hai, para kekasih
Lindungilah cintamu
Dengan kepercayaan dan kesetiaan
Bukan dengan cemburu dan harga diri
Hai, para orang tua
Lindungilah anakmu
Dengan pengertian dan kasih sayang
Bukan dengan perintah dan larangan
Hai, para sahabat
Lindungilah temanmu
Dengan ketulusan dan doa
Bukan dengan rasa kasihan dan ikatan sumpah
Hai, para pemimpin
Lindungilah rakyatmu
Dengan rasa aman dan kesempatan
Bukan dengan ketakutan dan pengekangan
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Old Dans Records
Get out old dans records
Get out old dans records
We will dance the whole night long
Its fun to play the old time songs
If old dan could see us now
I know hed be so proud
Bring out old dans records
Bring out old dans records
I remember my aunt bea
Shed dance with dan till two or three
If old dan could see he now
I know hed shout out loud
Dig out old dans records
Bring out old dans records
Were all here, weve all got dates
Well dance all night to the seventy-eights
If old dan could see us now
I know hed be so proud
If old dan were with us still
I know hed come around
Get out old dans records
Dig out old dans records
Back to nineteen thirty-five
The foxtrot, jitterbug n jive
If old dan could see us now
I know hed be so proud
Get out old dans records
Bring out old dans records
High above the fireplace
Theres a smile on old dans face
If old dan could see us now
I know hed be so proud
If old dan were with us still
I know hed come around
song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fancy Dan
Roy orbison/ joe melson
Well fancy dan, hes a bright young man
Hes a lover
Well fancy dan, hes ahead of the clan
Hes a lover
Well the words around that all the boys in town
Are gonna tear his playhouse down
But that dont bother young dan, hes not a fighting man
Hes the swingingest lover around
Well dont underestimate fancy dan
Hes the leader of a local band
Dont you dare leave your baby alone
Hes a modern pied piper on the saxophone
Well fancy dan, man oh man
Hes a smoothie
Well fancy dan, dont you understand
Hes groovy
Well the boys dont like him but the girlies do
And thats all a part of the plan
Theyre looking for a romance and they havent a chance
In the arms of fancy dan
Well fancy dan, round and round he goes
Where he stops, nobody knows
You better not leave your baby alone
When he plays come to me on his saxophone
song performed by Roy Orbison
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Holy Dan
It was in the Queensland drought;
And over hill and dell,
No grass – the water far apart,
All dry and hot as hell.
The wretched bullock teams drew up
Beside a water-hole –
They’d struggled on through dust and drought
For days to reach this goal.
And though the water rendered forth
A rank, unholy stench,
The bullocks and the bullockies
Drank deep their thirst to quench.
Two of the drivers cursed and swore
As only drivers can.
The other one, named Daniel,
Best known as Holy Dan,
Admonished them and said it was
The Lord’s all-wise decree;
And if they’d only watch and wait,
A change they’d quickly see.
’Twas strange that of Dan’s bullocks
Not one had gone aloft,
But this, he said, was due to prayer
And supplication oft.
At last one died but Dan was calm,
He hardly seemed to care;
He knelt beside the bullock’s corpse
And offered up a prayer.
"One bullock Thou has taken, Lord,
And so it seemeth best.
Thy will be done, but see my need
And spare to me the rest!"
A month went by. Dan’s bullocks now
Were dying every day,
But still on each occasion would
The faithful fellow pray,
"Another Thou has taken, Lord,
And so it seemeth best.
Thy will be done, but see my need,
And spare to me the rest!"
And still they camped beside the hole,
And still it never rained,
And still Dan’s bullocks died and died,
Till only one remained.
Then Dan broke down – good Holy Dan –
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Oceania
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Dalam Rindu
Bersamamu
Lalui hari-hari itu
Arungi lautan waktu
Dalam lagu
Dan cintaku
Sepertinya takkan layu
Bila kau tetap di hatiku
Dalam rindu
Kasihku
Kuingin sedikit kau tahu
Betapa berharga dirimu
Dalam hidupku
Tapiku
Tak ingin selalu menunggu
Gelisah dan tak menentu
Dalam ragu
Bersamamu
Meski kadang terasa pilu
Bagai tertusuk sembilu
Jiwaku sendu
Dan cintaku
Kuatkan raga dan jiwaku
Hadapi hari kelabu
Hujan dan salju
Kasihku
Coba kau dengarkan aku
Jangan terus hindariku
Lihat diriku
Karna ku
Tak ingin selalu terpaku
Hanya diam dan mengadu
Dalam kalbu
Akankah
Kau hapus semua gundah
Bagaikan sebuah anugerah
Ataukah itu hanya kata-kata indah
Kasihku
Kuingin sedikit kau tahu
Betapa berharga dirimu
Dalam hidupku
[...] Read more
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Hidupkah Kau
Hidupkah kau untuk mengeluh
Dari terbitnya matahari hingga terbenam
Tentang kehidupan yang tak memuaskan
Dirimu yang selalu menginginkan kenyamanan
Ataukah terbersit sekali dalam pikiranmu
Untuk sejenak sedikit bersyukur
Tentang kehidupan yang masih kau punya saat ini
Bersama dengan harta yang mungkin kau tak sadari
Karena kau sibuk mengeluh
Dan lupa untuk menghargai dan menjaga hal itu
Hidupkah kau untuk meminta
Dari buaian bayi hingga ke liang kubur
Agar dirimu diutamakan
Dan tak juga belajar bersabar
Ataukah terbersit sekali dalam keinginanmu
Untuk berusaha sendiri
Lepas dari belas kasihan orang lain
Agar dirimu tak perlu lagi mengiba
Untuk memperoleh apa yang kau inginkan
Karena kau sibuk meminta
Dan lupa memberi dan memperbaiki hal itu
Hidupkah kau untuk mencela
Dari ujung bumi hingga dasar samudera
Menuding orang melakukan kesalahan
Dan mengangkat tinggi dagumu dengan sombong
Ataukah terbersit sekali dalam hatimu
Untuk sebentar saja bercermin
Memandang kembali segala persoalan
Dengan kepala jernih tanpa prasangka
Karena kau sibuk mencela
Dan lupa untuk belajar dan memahami hal itu
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Jonah’s Luck
OUT OF LUCK, mate? Have a liquor. Hang it, where’s the use complaining?
Take your fancy, I’m in funds now—I can stand the racket, Dan.
Dump your bluey in the corner; camp here for the night, it’s raining;
Bet your life I’m glad to see you—glad to see a Daylesford man.
Swell? Correct, Dan. Spot the get up; and I own this blooming shanty,
Me the fellows christened ‘Jonah’ at Jim Crow and Blanket Flat,
’Cause my luck was so infernal—you remember me and Canty?
Rough times, those—the very memory keeps a chap from getting fat.
Where’d I strike it? That’s a yarn. The fire’s a comfort—sit up nearer.
Hoist your heels, man; take it easy till Kate’s ready with the stew.
Yes, I’ll tell my little story; ’tain’t a long one, but it’s queerer
Than those lies that Tullock pitched us on The Flat in ’52.
Fancy Phil a parson now! He’s smug as grease, the Reverend Tullock.
Yes, he’s big—his wife and fam’ly are a high and mighty lot.
Didn’t I say his jaw would keep him when he tired of punching mullock?
Well, it has—he’s made his pile here. How d’you like your whisky—hot?
Luck! Well, now, I like your cheek, Dan. You had luck, there’s no denying.
I in thirty years had averaged just a wage of twenty bob—
Why, at Alma there I saw men making fortunes without trying,
While for days I lived on ’possums, and then had to take a job.
Bah! you talk about misfortune—my ill-luck was always thorough:
Gold once ran away before me if I chased it for a week.
I was starved at Tarrangower—lived on tick at Maryborough—
And I fell and broke my thigh-bone at the start of Fiery Creek.
At Avoca Canty left me. Jim, you know, was not a croaker,
But he jacked the whole arrangement—found we couldn’t make a do:
Said he loved me like a brother, but ’twas rough upon a joker
When he’d got to fight the devil, and find luck enough for two.
Jim was off. I didn’t blame him, seeing what he’d had to suffer
When Maginnis, just beside us, panned out fifty to the tub.
‘We had pegged out hours before him, and had struck another duffer,
And each store upon the lead, my lad, had laid us up for grub.
After that I picked up Barlow, but we parted at Dunolly
When we’d struggled through at Alma, Adelaide Lead, and Ararat.
See, my luck was hard upon him; he contracted melancholy,
And he hung himself one morning in the shaft at Parrot Flat.
Ding it? No. Where gold was getting I was on the job, and early,—
Struck some tucker dirt at Armstrong’s, and just lived at Pleasant Creek,
Always grafting like a good ’un, never hopeless-like or surly,
Living partly on my earnings, Dan, but largely on my cheek.
Good old days, they like to call them—they were tough old days to many:
I was through them, and they left me still the choice to graft or beg—
Left me gray, and worn, and wrinkled, aged and stumped—without a penny—
With a chronic rheumatism and this darned old twisted leg.
Other work? That’s true—in plenty. But you know the real old stager
[...] Read more
poem by Edward George Dyson
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