Sow dry and set wet.
Spanish proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Brus Book XVIII
Only Berwick remains in English hands; a burgess offers to betray it]
The lordis off the land war fayne
Quhen thai wist he wes cummyn agan
And till him went in full gret hy,
And he ressavit thaim hamlyly
5 And maid thaim fest and glaidsum cher,
And thai sa wonderly blyth wer
Off his come that na man mycht say,
Gret fest and fayr till him maid thai.
Quharever he raid all the countre
10 Gaderyt in daynte him to se,
Gret glaidschip than wes in the land.
All than wes wonnyn till his hand,
Fra the Red Swyre to Orknay
Wes nocht off Scotland fra his fay
15 Outakyn Berwik it allane.
That tym tharin wonnyt ane
That capitane wes of the toun,
All Scottismen in suspicioun
He had and tretyt thaim tycht ill.
20 He had ay to thaim hevy will
And held thaim fast at undre ay,
Quhill that it fell apon a day
That a burges Syme of Spalding
Thocht that it wes rycht angry thing
25 Suagate ay to rebutyt be.
Tharfor intill his hart thocht he
That he wald slely mak covyne
With the marchall, quhays cosyne
He had weddyt till him wiff,
30 And as he thocht he did belyff.
Lettrys till him he send in hy
With a traist man all prively,
And set him tym to cum a nycht
With leddrys and with gud men wicht
35 Till the kow yet all prively,
And bad him hald his trist trewly
And he suld mete thaim at the wall,
For his walk thar that nycht suld fall.
[The marischal shows the letter to the king,
who seeks to avoid jealousy between Douglas and Moray]
Quhen the marchell the lettre saw
40 He umbethocht him than a thraw,
For he wist be himselvyn he
Mycht nocht off mycht no power be
For till escheyff sa gret a thing,
And giff he tuk till his helping
[...] Read more
poem by John Barbour
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The Georgics
GEORGIC I
What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,
[...] Read more
Of Coarse Fools
Vile, scolding words do irritate,
Good manners thereby will abate
If sow-bell's rung from morn to late
.
A new St. Ruffian now holds sway,
Men celebrate him much today
And honour him in every place
With words and ways that spell disgrace,
And make a jest of ribaldry,
Though belted not with decency.
Sir Decency is doubtless dead,
Fool holds the sow's ear, wags her head,
And makes the sow-bell loudly ring
So that the sow her ditty sing.
The sow leads on and cannot fail,
She holds the fools' ship by her tail,
That laden down no wreck it be,
For that would bring great misery.
The wine no fool today would heed
That's quite inferior wine, indeed.
Full many a litter breeds the sow,
And wisdom lives in exile now;
The swine on decent people frown,
The sow alone now wears the crown.
Whoever rings her bell, that man
Is now the one who leads the van,
While he who does such foolish work
As that famed priest of Kalenberg,
Or as Monk Islan long of beard,
He thinks that he's himself endeared.
Some men in folly are so free
That if Orestes them could see –
He had no brains beneath his hat –
He'd say: 'Sane men can't act like that.'
'Come clean to village' lost its sense,
For peasants drink and give offense.
Sir Alderblock is roundly fêted,
With Roughenough and Seldom Sated.
Most every fool doth love the sow
And wants to have his grease box now,
Which he keeps filled with donkey's fat.
But rarely is it bare of that,
Though everyone would take a piece,
To keep his bagpipes well in grease.
Now grossness everywhere has come
And seems to live in every home,
And sense and prudence both are dead.
What now is written, what is said,
[...] Read more
poem by Sebastian Brant
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Georgic 1
What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,
Nor may so dire a lust of sovereignty
E'er light upon thee, howso Greece admire
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Set Me Free
You operate and motivate on synthetic fuel
you're Mother Nature and an atom bomb
As long as you're kept full of pretty bodies
your little secret will be safe with me
around again insane again
it somes again it sets me free
so set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
Your kept alive and polarized with one thing in mind,
metabolizin' everything that you see
but now and then or a little later
now I'm gonna take you down with me
Around again insane again
she comes again it sets me free
so set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
so set me free
set me free
'cuase I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
So, take me down
take me down, down, down, down
take me down, take me down
So, take me down
take me down, down, down, down
take me down, take me down
So set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
So set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
So set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
So set me free
set me free
[...] Read more
song performed by Velvet Revolver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Teapots and Quails
Teapots and Quails,
Snuffers and Snails,
Set him a sailing
and see how he sails!
..
Mitres and Beams,
Thimbles and Creams,
Set him a screaming
and hark! how he screams!
..
Houses and Kings,
Whiskers and Swings,
Set him a stinging
and see how he stings!
..
Ribands and Pigs,
Helmets and Figs,
Set him a jigging
and see how he jigs!
..
Rainbows and Knives,
Muscles and Hives,
Set him a driving
and see how he drives!
..
Tadpoles and Tops,
Teacups and Mops,
Set him a hopping
and see how he hops!
..
Herons and Sweeps,
Turbans and Sheeps,
Set him a weeping
and see how he weeps!
Lobsters and Owls,
Scissors and Fowls,
Set him a howling
and hark how he howls!
..
Eagles and Pears,
Slippers and Bears,
Set him a staring
and see how he stares!
..
Sofas and Bees,
Camels and Keys,
Set him a sneezing
and see how he'll sneeze!
..
Wafers and Bears,
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Lear
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Ill Never Set You Free
Theres nothing I can say
Theres nothing I can do
To show you the love
That I got for you
Theres nothing in this world
That could ever take your place
When I look into your eyes
I see a sweet face
Ill never set you free
till you give your love to me
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
And I need you (Ill never set, set you free)
Yes I want you (Ill never set, set you free)
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
Will you open up your heart
So love could make a start
I know that if you do
Dreams will come true
Ill never set you free
till you give your love to me
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
And I need you (Ill never set, set you free)
Yes I want you (Ill never set, set you free)
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
Ill never set you free
till you give your love to me
Theres nothing you can do
To stop my love for you
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
And I need you (Ill never set, set you free)
Yes I want you (Ill never set, set you free)
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
[repeat / fade]
song performed by Rick Astley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pheromone
Come
Lie down beneath my shadow
Lie down beneath my shadow with great delight
And your feel will be sweet 2 me
Come
My left hand under your head,
While my right embraces time
Therein, my virgin, loves wine
L is 4 lust
O is 4 obsession
V is 4 the vast way u envelop my soul
This is crazy, this is crazy
I could die from the pheromone
I can see the castle
I can see the throne
I can see the beloved and shes not alone
But its cool like that
Cuz Ill be diggin her just the same
I can see the curtain wrestled from the wall
I can see her hands tied
I can see it all
He pulls a gat
This is how they play the game
And Im round the the back
Cuz curiosity it knows no shame
Pheromone, rush over me like an ocean
Pheromone, controllin my every motion
Pheromone, Im helpless as a pet
Pheromone, when your bodys wet
I can feel the tension through the crack in the door
He begs 4 love, while shes disgusted more
And Im on fire, cause I never seen her nude before
I wanna save her (save her)
I want 2 watch (watch)
All my vital signs go up a couple of notches
When he unties her and she runs 2 the open door
He trips and grinds her (grinds her)
Right there all on the floor (on the floor)
She so close I can touch her (touch her)
Pheromone, rush over me like an ocean
Pheromone, controllin my every motion
Pheromone, Im helpless as a pet
Pheromone, when your bodys wet (bodys wet, bodys wet, bodys wet)
Her eyes are closed but theres no penetration
He just makes her point the pistol 2 his nose
While he masturbates and now I see a tear
Heading down towards her smile
What happens next it all depends upon your style
(oh, this is crazy baby)
Pheromone, (pheromone) rush over me like an ocean
[...] Read more
song performed by Prince
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks
1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,
That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass
Under the old trees with rosy fruit.
In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a
basket,
The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.
Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.
Fayne snatched for it and missed;
Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small
Finely cut features in a dance of delight;
Fayne with one sweep flung at his face
All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Philosophy
Told ya darlin
All along,
I was right and you were wrong.
A-pleasin you,
So hard to do.
Cried all night long,
Was beatin through.
Cant sow wild oats
spect to gather corn.
Cant take right
And make it wrong.
Told ya darlin,
Long time ago,
You gotta reap
What you sow, and what you sow, yeah,
Is gonna make you weep,
A-some day,
A-some day,
A-some day.
Yeah, what you sow, yeah,
s gonna make you weep.
Tried to keep you
Satisfied;
Broke my heart,
Crushed my pride.
Its all over now,
But all I see
Is a lonely road
And a memory of
Daily walkin
And talkin
bout joanne.
Cant ya see,
I said, daily walkin
And talkin.
Cant sow wild oats
spect to gather corn.
Cant take right
And make it wrong.
I told ya darlin,
Long time ago,
You gotta reap
What you sow, and what you sow, yeah,
Gonna make you weep,
A-some day,
A-some day,
Some day.
Yeah, what you sow, yeah,
Gonna make you weep,
A-some days.
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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It's All wet, wet, wet
It's all wet, wet, wet
rainy and wet
cold and wet
hungry and wet
all day long
dark and wet
prepare your laundry dryer
I'm already wet
exhausted and wet
sleepy and wet
in this wet, wet, wet day
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Beach Wet
Baby...
Bring that magic to me.
Baby...
Bring that magic to me.
I am glad we met,
In this Summer season.
I'd like to lay on the beach wet!
And sweat for different reasons.
Baby...
Bring that magic to me.
Baby...
Bring that magic to me.
With music softly played,
Our bodies get delighted.
With a tan that the Sun bakes...
A taste of the rhythm the sand takes.
And baby...
Bring that magic to me.
Classy baby...
Bring that magic to me.
With music samba played,
Our bodies get delighted.
With a tan that the Sun bakes...
We dance in a rhythm that the sand takes.
With music softly played,
Our bodies get delighted.
With a tan that the Sun bakes...
A taste of the rhythm the sand takes.
I like to lay on the beach wet.
And sweat for different reasons.
I like to lay on the beach wet.
And sweat for different reasons.
Classy baby...
Bring that magic to me.
With music samba played,
Our bodies get delighted.
No better place to lay,
Than on a beach excited.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Venus and Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis tried him to the chase;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses;
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses:
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety;
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enrag'd, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens;--O! how quick is love:--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.
So soon was she along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare (1593)
Added by Dan CostinaÅŸ
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Venus and Adonis
'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
To the right honorable Henry Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
Right honorable.
I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.
Your honour's in all duty.
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens:--O, how quick is love!--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Brus Book X
[Preparations for battle against John of Lorn]
Quhen Thomas Randell on this wis
Wes takyn as Ik her devys
And send to dwell in gud keping
For spek that he spak to the king,
The gud king that thocht on the scaith
The dispyt and felny bath
That Jhone off Lorne had till him doyn
His ost assemblyt he then sone
And towart Lorn he tuk the way
With his men intill gud aray.
Bot Jhone off Lorn off his cummyng
Lang or he come had wittering,
And men on ilk sid gadryt he
I trow twa thousand thai mycht be
And send thaim for to stop the way
Quhar the gud king behovyt away,
And that wes in an evill plas
That sa strayt and sa narow was
That twasum samyn mycht nocht rid
In sum place off the hillis sid.
The nethyr halff was peralous
For schor crag hey and hydwous
Raucht to the se doun fra the pas,
On athyr halff the montane was
Sua combrous hey and stay
That it was hard to pas that way.
I trow nocht that in all Bretane
Ane heyar hill may fundyn be.
Thar Jhone off Lorne gert his menye
Enbuschyt be abovyn the way,
For giff the king held thar away
He thocht he suld sone vencussyt be,
And himselff held him apon the se
Weill ner the pais with his galayis.
Bot the king that in all assayis
Wes fundyn wys and avisé
Persavyt rycht weill thar sutelte,
And that he neid that gait suld ga.
His men departyt he in twa
And till the gud lord off Douglas
Quham in herbryd all worschip was
He taucht the archerys everilkane
And this gud lord with him has tane
Schyr Alysander Fraser the wycht,
And Wylyam Wysman a gud knycht
And with thaim syne Schyr Androw Gray.
Thir with thar mengne held thar way
And clamb the hill deliverly
And or thai off the tother party
[...] Read more
poem by John Barbour
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The Day's Plans Go Awry
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The tears that God must cry.
'Hey Mom, what's rain, what makes it fall? '
Asked Zachary, sincere.
'When will it stop, will it at all?
I can't be stuck in here.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
As God begins to cry.
'It's God's tears, my son, he must weep,
For all of us on earth.
The pain we feel, we cannot keep,
Ourselves alone from birth.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
For our pain God must cry.
'But Mom, God's cried, every day,
He must be getting weak.
Tell him to laugh, that's what I'd say,
And try that for a week.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
Why do we make him cry?
'But ah, my son, you do not know,
How much hurt God has felt.
So our Father, he has to show,
Us what our pain has dealt.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry.
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
God doesn't want to cry.
'So Mom, then why, do we hurt God?
How can we be so bad?
Why do we hurt each other too?
We know it makes him sad.'
[...] Read more
poem by Steven Rodgers
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Set The Night To Music
Set the night to music
Set the night to music
Look at all the stars tonight, look at all the moonlight
Look at us were all alone
Oh and its just like a dream, some romantic fantasy
Darling come and hold, hold me close
We could be making love
And with the slightest touch
We could, set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you, to
Set the night to music
Find a rhythm all our own, melt into it nice and slow
Love ourselves away from here
Your heart beating next to mine, perfect love in perfect time
Watch the world disappear
This moment is ours to take (this moment is ours)
And with the love we make
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you, to
Set the night to music
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah
This moment is ours to take (this moment is ours)
And with the love we make
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you,
To set the night, set the night
Set the night to music
Set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
Set the night, set the night, set the night, set the night...
song performed by Starship
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Great Hunger
I
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men.
If we watch them an hour is there anything we can prove
Of life as it is broken-backed over the Book
Of Death? Here crows gabble over worms and frogs
And the gulls like old newspapers are blown clear of the hedges, luckily.
Is there some light of imagination in these wet clods?
Or why do we stand here shivering?
Which of these men
Loved the light and the queen
Too long virgin? Yesterday was summer. Who was it promised marriage to himself
Before apples were hung from the ceilings for Hallowe'en?
We will wait and watch the tragedy to the last curtain,
Till the last soul passively like a bag of wet clay
Rolls down the side of the hill, diverted by the angles
Where the plough missed or a spade stands, straitening the way.
A dog lying on a torn jacket under a heeled-up cart,
A horse nosing along the posied headland, trailing
A rusty plough. Three heads hanging between wide-apart legs.
October playing a symphony on a slack wire paling.
Maguire watches the drills flattened out
And the flints that lit a candle for him on a June altar
Flameless. The drills slipped by and the days slipped by
And he trembled his head away and ran free from the world's halter,
And thought himself wiser than any man in the townland
When he laughed over pints of porter
Of how he came free from every net spread
In the gaps of experience. He shook a knowing head
And pretended to his soul
That children are tedious in hurrying fields of April
Where men are spanning across wide furrows.
Lost in the passion that never needs a wife
The pricks that pricked were the pointed pins of harrows.
Children scream so loud that the crows could bring
The seed of an acre away with crow-rude jeers.
Patrick Maguire, he called his dog and he flung a stone in the air
And hallooed the birds away that were the birds of the years.
Turn over the weedy clods and tease out the tangled skeins.
What is he looking for there?
He thinks it is a potato, but we know better
Than his mud-gloved fingers probe in this insensitive hair.
'Move forward the basket and balance it steady
In this hollow. Pull down the shafts of that cart, Joe,
And straddle the horse,' Maguire calls.
'The wind's over Brannagan's, now that means rain.
Graip up some withered stalks and see that no potato falls
Over the tail-board going down the ruckety pass -
And that's a job we'll have to do in December,
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick Kavanagh
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Canto the Second
I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.
II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.
III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.
IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.
V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)
Introduction
In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.
Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.
Prologue
The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain
mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact
that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals
becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,
who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight
in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.
Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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