Truth
Truth is mathematics sere dominion.
All other truth is shear opinion.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Athelston
Lord that is off myghtys most,
Fadyr and Sone and Holy Gost,
Bryng us out of synne
And lene us grace so for to wyrke
To love bothe God and Holy Kyrke
That we may hevene wynne.
Lystnes, lordyngys, that ben hende,
Of falsnesse, hou it wil ende
A man that ledes hym therin.
Of foure weddyd bretheryn I wole yow tell
That wolden yn Yngelond go dwel,
That sybbe were nought of kyn.
And all foure messangeres they were,
That wolden yn Yngelond lettrys bere,
As it wes here kynde.
By a forest gan they mete
With a cros, stood in a strete
Be leff undyr a lynde,
And, as the story telles me,
Ylke man was of dyvers cuntrie
In book iwreten we fynde —
For love of here metyng thare,
They swoor hem weddyd bretheryn for evermare,
In trewthe trewely dede hem bynde.
The eldeste of hem ylkon,
He was hyght Athelston,
The kyngys cosyn dere;
He was of the kyngys blood,
Hys eemes sone, I undyrstood;
Therefore he neyghyd hym nere.
And at the laste, weel and fayr,
The kyng him dyyd withouten ayr.
Thenne was ther non hys pere
But Athelston, hys eemes sone;
To make hym kyng wolde they nought schone,
To corowne hym with gold so clere.
Now was he kyng semely to se:
He sendes afftyr his bretheryn thre
And gaff hem here warysoun.
The eldest brothir he made Eerl of Dovere —
And thus the pore man gan covere —
Lord of tour and toun.
That other brother he made Eerl of Stane —
Egelond was hys name,
A man of gret renoun —
And gaff him tyl hys weddyd wyff
Hys owne sustyr, Dame Edyff,
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Love & Luck
By: jimmy buffett, j. beroard, j.c. naimro
1988
Better days are in the cards I feel
Feel it in the changin wind
I feel it when I glide
So talk to me Ill listen to your story
Ive been around enough to know
That theres more than meets the eye
Everybody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me, and Ill rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
Chorus:
With a little love and luck
You will get by
With a little love and luck
Well take the sky
In this mangled modern world
Youve got to try
Try a little love and luck
And youll get by
Mysteries dont ever try to solve them
Were just players in a game
And no ones keeping score
So have your fun
Go ahead and tell your story
Find yourself a lover
Who will glue you to the floor
Everybody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me, and Ill rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
Chorus:
With a little love and luck
You will get by
With a little love and luck
Well take the sky
In this mangled modern world
Weve got to try
Try a little love and luck
And youll get by
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
Chorus:
With a little love and luck
You will get by
With a little love and luck
Well take the sky
[...] Read more
song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Babe
La reina del reggae!
Quiero que me digas que tu eres para mi
(Para mi, babe...)
Y que los dos juntos nos podemos seducir
(Seducir, babe...)
Llevame en la nube de lo que es la realidad
Llevame a bailar y dime que me vas amar
(Babe...) Si tu quieres yo tuya sere
(Babe...) Y por siempre te demostrare
(Babe...) que tu reina para ti sere
Te demostrare, yo te amare, y te lo probare
(Babe...) Si tu quieres yo tuya sere
(Babe...) Y por siempre te demostrare
(Babe...) que tu reina para ti sere
Te demostrare, yo te amare, y te lo probare
Dime que yo soy tuya
Que yo soy tu loba, yo soy tu chula
La que te enciende, la que te prende
La que en la mala siempre esta de frente pa' defenderte
Y no me importa lo que el mundo diga
Si somos almas que se unen como rima
Chica peligrosa, amor que destroza
Danzando con musica, la que a tu cuerpo azota
Quiero que me digas que tu eres para mi
(Para mi, babe...)
Y que los dos juntos nos podemos seducir
(Seducir, babe...)
Llevame en la nube de lo que es la realidad
Llevame a bailar y dime que me vas amar
(Babe...) Si tu quieres yo tuya sere
(Babe...) Y por siempre te demostrare
(Babe...) que tu reina para ti sere
Te demostrare, yo te amare, y te lo probare
(Babe...) Si tu quieres yo tuya sere
(Babe...) Y por siempre te demostrare
(Babe...) que tu reina para ti sere
Te demostrare, yo te amare, y te lo probare
Porque yo tengo un papi que me ama en la ma
Yo tengo un hombre que me trata como dama
Saberlo, es lo que me hace feliz
Por eso, y muchas cosas, voy contigo hasta el fin
Y dile al mundo ahora
Que tu eres mi rey, el que a mi me adora
El que pa' todas esta por mi
Al gato que le gusta cuando la canta la Ivy Queen
Y no me importa lo que el mundo diga
Si somos almas que se unen como rima
Chico peligroso, ven que yo te azoto
Y bailamos juntos con un ritmo tan sabroso
Quiero que me digas que tu eres para mi
[...] Read more
song performed by Ivy Queen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Truth Through Repetition
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
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through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
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rough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth th
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ugh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thro
gh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throu
h repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throug
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
epetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through r
petition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through re
etition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through rep
tition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repe
ition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repet
tion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repeti
ion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetit
on Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiti
n Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetitio
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
h through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Trut
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
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La Bamba
(traditional - arranged by dusty springfield)
Para bailar la bamba
Para bailar la bamba
Se necesita una poco de gracia
Una poco de gracia
Pra mi pra ti
Ay arriba, arriba
Ay arriba, arriba
Por ti sere, por ti sere, por ti sere
In order to dance the bamba
In order to dance the bamba
You need a bit of grace
A bit of grace
For you I will be, for you I will be
Yo no soy marinera
Yo no soy marinera
Soy capitan
Soy capitan
Soy capitan
Im not a sailor
Im not a sailor
Im captain
Im captain
Baila la bamba
Baila la bamba, no, no, no
Baila la bamba
Baila la bamba
Dance the bamba
Dance the bamba, no, no, no
Dance the bamba
Dance the bamba
Para bailar la bamba
Para bailar la bamba
Se necesita una poco de gracia
Una poco de gracia
Pra mi pra ti
Ay arriba arriba
Ay arriba arriba
Por ti sere, por ti sere, por ti sere
In order to dance the bamba
In order to dance the bamba
You need a bit of grace
A bit of grace
For you I will be, for you I will be
Baila la bamba, no, no, no
Baila la bamba, no, no, no, no
Baila la bamba, hey
Baila la bamba
Dance the bamba, no, no, no
Dance the bamba, no, no, no, no
[...] Read more
song performed by Dusty Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Two Devines
It was shearing time at the Myall Lake,
And then rose the sound through the livelong day
Of the constant clash that the shear-blades make
When the fastest shearers are making play;
But there wasn't a man in the shearers' lines
That could shear a sheep with the two Devines.
They had rung the sheds of the east and west,
Had beaten the cracks of the Walgett side,
And the Cooma shearers had given them best --
When they saw them shear, they were satisfied.
From the southern slopes to the western pines
They were noted men, were the two Devines.
'Twas a wether flock that had come to hand,
Great struggling brutes, that shearers shirk,
For the fleece was filled with the grass and sand,
And seventy sheep was a big day's work.
"At a pound a hundred it's dashed hard lines
To shear such sheep," said the two Devines.
But the shearers knew that they's make a cheque
When they came to deal with the station ewes;
They were bare of belly and bare of neck
With a fleece as light as a kangaroo's.
"We will show the boss how a shear-blade shines
When we reach those ewes," said the two Devines.
But it chanced next day, when the stunted pines
Were swayed and stirred by the dawn-wind's breath,
That a message came for the two Devines
That their father lay at the point of death.
So away at speed through the whispering pines
Down the bridle-track rode the two Devines.
It was fifty miles to their father's hut,
And the dawn was bright when they rode away;
At the fall of night, when the shed was shut
And the men had rest from the toilsome day,
To the shed once more through the darkening pines
On their weary steeds came the two Devines.
"Well, you're back right sudden,"the super said;
"Is the old man dead and the funeral done?"
"Well, no sir, he ain't not exactly dead,
But as good as dead," said the eldest son --
"And we couldn't bear such a chance to lose,
So we came straight back to tackle the ewes."
*
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Dominion Day
In my darkness
I hear jesus crying.
In my darkness
I see children savage and blind.
In my darkness
I see dead men kneel before the cross.
In my darkness
I hear the voice of evil.
Disciples, dark angels,
This is dominion day
My demons, come to me
This is dominion day
In his darkness
I can feel the storm come.
In his darkness
Holy water burns my soul.
In his darkness
A grave waits for you at heavens gate.
In his darkness
I hear screams that hide the voice of god.
Come children of eden
Pray to me on dominion day.
Pray for your salvation,
Sanctuary on dominion day
My soul, save me.
In his mercy,
He will bring the disease.
In his mercy
He will burn the oceans.
In his mercy
He will tear the sky down.
In his mercy
He will make pain eternal.
Your nightmare is breathing
This is dominion day.
Welcome to your saviour
This is dominion day.
This is my new kingdom.
This is dominion day.
Creation bleeds for me.
This is dominion day.
song performed by Gary Numan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ulalume
(e.a.poe)
Jeff performed a reading of this poem by edgar allan poe for the tribute compilation closed on account of rabies, produced by hal willner.
The skies were ashen and sober,
The leaves they were crisped and sere,
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome october
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of auber,
In the misty mid region of weir,
It was down by the dank tarn of auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of weir.
Here once, through an alley, titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my soul,
Of cypress, with psyche, my soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll,
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down yaaneck
In the ultimate climes of the pole,
That groan as they roll down mount yaaneck
In the realms of the boreal pole.
Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere,
Our memories were treacherous and sere,
For we knew not the month was october,
And we marked not the night of the year
(ah, night of all nights in the year!);
We noted not the dim lake of auber
(though once we had journeyed down here),
Remembered not the dank tarn of auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of weir.
And now, as the night was senescent
And star-dials pointed to morn,
As the star-dials hinted of morn,
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn
Astartes bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.
And I said: she is warmer than dian;
She rolls through an ether of sighs,
She reveals in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the lion,
To point us the path to the skies,
To the lethean peace of the skies;
Come up, in despite of the lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes,
[...] Read more
song performed by Jeff Buckley
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Kidem El Chegas
Im hokine tartsel mer teshvar seren pladag mi averag.
Achersen mishd latsver ayt orits yerp ko sere im gianke kaghtets.
Areve im ashkharoum yerpek che dzakets.
Moute badets im merg orere.
Jamanage hon tatretz yev vargianere arants kez im ser tartsan tarer, dekhour yev yergar anverch jampaner.
Jebide kaghtetz, khavare badets im kheghj ashkhare kalousded espasets.
Arants ko siro inch garje gianke.
Yerp tou chgas, yerp tou gekas? kidem el ches kar.
Ayn orits yerp tou im gianke kaghtetsir, ko sere gabre khore im serdin.
teghouz kez hamar yes linem vochinch.
Im serner angeghdz, yev anverch gabre khore im serdin.
Gardzoumeyi te sere aboush mi khaghe.
Jermag mi soude.
Yev yerp khaghe tatre sere g mare.
Payts yerp kaz siretsi.
mornal chanatsi.
Im antse mortsa payts kez che moratsa.
Arten yergar darineren antser.mer sere mi houshe tartsel.
Payts ko sere im serdoum pouyne shinel.
payts kidem el chgas, kidem el ches kar.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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To -- -- --. Ulalume: A Ballad
The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere-
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir-
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul-
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
There were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll-
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole-
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.
Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere-
Our memories were treacherous and sere-
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year-
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber-
(Though once we had journeyed down here),
Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
And now, as the night was senescent,
And star-dials pointed to morn-
As the star-dials hinted of morn-
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn-
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.
And I said- 'She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs-
She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion,
To point us the path to the skies-
To the Lethean peace of the skies-
[...] Read more
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Satan Absolved
(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.
[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.
Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.
Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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And Death Shall Have No Dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Koutse Vochinch
PAREV DAREK IM YARIN.
ASEK GARODEM NERAN ANOUSH JEBIDIN.
ASEK ASHKHARES TADARG E ARANTS NERAN TAKOUN ACHERIN.
TEGOUZ MER SIRO POTSE VAGHOUTSE MAREL.
IR SERDOUM IM SERE MOKHIRE TARTSEL.
PAYTS IR SERE IM SERDI MECH HAVIDIAN GABRE.
AMEN ARAVOD LOUYSIN HED NORITS GIANK GARNE.
TEGOUZ IM SERE IR SERDI MECH TARTSELE MI HOUSH.
YEV KOUTSE VOCHINCH.
MIAYN HARTSOUTSEK OVKEREN SHOYOUM IR PAPOUG HOKIN.
OVE DIRATSEL IM SIRO OJAKHIN.
VORKANEM GAROD IR DAKOUG KERGIN.
MANGA M NEMAN GAROD MOR KERGIN.
IM MIAG ABASDANER OU HON ABAHOV HOKIS G NENCHER.
YERP INDZ G KERGER SIRO KHOSKER GASER.
HOKIS AYLAYLDZ MER SERE GERKER.
ASHKHARE IMNER.
IR SERE IM KANTSNER.
IM HAYRENIKNER.
ARTIOK OVKEREN IM HAYRENIKE KERAVEL.
YETE VOR LSEK YERPEK INDZ CHASEK.
[...] Read more
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Truth and Reality (Opinion)
Daily at the end of my "anusthaanam"-(spiritual ritual) ", I make a strong, fervent and sincere prayer to the Divinity that intellectuals and scholars in the world should be fearless and speak the truth without any inhibitions. This has been the tradition of our ancestors and speaking truth is essential for the benefit of the society and the society will be able to know the actualities and act on them.
Normally the rulers do not like the truth to be known. Also leaders of ideologies, religions, their supporters and the like also do not like the truth to be known to the ordinary people. The writers are normally and should be fearless such that the ills and evils in the society are exposed and remedial measures are taken. But what is truth?
Truth is what it is or as it is irrespective of perceptions of the individuals. Reality is what we see of truth; how much we see of truth. Reality is always dictated by our mental make-up, likes, dislikes, limitations in our ability and willingness to see, view, comprehend and accept the truth. Reality is individual's perception of the truth. Truth, most of the times, is only perceived and rarely understood or experienced. Thus reality is limited truth. Reality is either inability to be truthful or inability and limitations of the individual to see the truth unbiased. Also truth corresponds to the individual, about himself, his Self and the reality corresponds to the objective world within and without the body of the individual.
Real situations are compromised states of existence in the attempt of pursuit of the truth. We all talk about truth limited by our perception and not the truth most of the times. We have compulsions inbuilt, acquired or imagined not to accept the truth and allow truth to be spoken or spread through us. But truth is a flowing river. It may flood us but it never dries up. On the other the reality is like a stagnated lake. Our fear of repercussions taking place if we speak, accept or propagate truth, make us real and not truthful. We prefer peaceful and calm life. We call that realistic approach and adjust and compromise.
Thus, most of the times, we are not truthful. We are all limited and confined to our perceptions of truth. Truth is best revealed when understood or experienced. But we rarely get such insight. All our knowledge and information is hearsay through books, newspapers, magazines, radio and TV news channels, web sites etc, . We are all aware that these books and news items are filtered through the editors and owners of these media. Thus the perceptions of these responsible and financing individuals decide the truth content in the item. We pick up these as truth and argue or form our own perceptions. Sometimes the editorial policy of the editors or owners of these media do not allow truth as it is to reach us when they find it objectionable in that form. Thus truth is never completely known or allowed to be known and hence not completely comprehended. The fears, imaginations, illusions shape our perceptions and our comprehension of the truth. Many times it appears that no absolute truth exists or known, perceived or understood and experienced. Just as feelings and perceptions of good and bad and other qualities, truth is also relative as "truth to me", "truth to him", "truth to you", "truth to them" and a truth accepted by all is not possible and available to be expressed, accepted or spread and we all mistake our perceptions of truth as truth without understanding or experiencing the truth. But truth is like fire. It can not be hidden or held in hand.
the palm. Truth sneaks through our cautions and suppression and declares itself.
poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Conversation
Though nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To every man his modicum of sense,
And Conversation in its better part
May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller’s toil,
On culture, and the sowing of the soil.
Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more distinct from harmony divine,
The constant creaking of a country sign.
As alphabets in ivory employ,
Hour after hour, the yet unletter’d boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Those seeds of science call’d his a b c;
So language in the mouths of the adult,
Witness its insignificant result,
Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to sport with, and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day brought forth,
Compress the sum into its solid worth,
And if it weigh the importance of a fly,
The scales are false, or algebra a lie.
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few respect or use thee as they ought!
But all shall give account of every wrong,
Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue;
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or sell their glory at a market-price;
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon,
The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon.
There is a prurience in the speech of some,
Wrath stays him, or else God would strike them dumb;
His wise forbearance has their end in view,
They fill their measure and receive their due.
The heathen lawgivers of ancient days,
Names almost worthy of a Christian’s praise,
Would drive them forth from the resort of men,
And shut up every satyr in his den.
Oh, come not ye near innocence and truth,
Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth!
Infectious as impure, your blighting power
Taints in its rudiments the promised flower;
Its odour perish’d, and its charming hue,
Thenceforth ‘tis hateful, for it smells of you.
Not e’en the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolescence, or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or just
For making speech the pamperer of lust;
But when the breath of age commits the fault,
‘Tis nauseous as the vapour of a vault.
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
Added by Poetry Lover
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!
Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Prejudice
IN yonder red-brick mansion, tight and square,
Just at the town's commencement, lives the mayor.
Some yards of shining gravel, fenced with box,
Lead to the painted portal--where one knocks :
There, in the left-hand parlour, all in state,
Sit he and she, on either side the grate.
But though their goods and chattels, sound and new,
Bespeak the owners very well to do,
His worship's wig and morning suit betray
Slight indications of an humbler day
That long, low shop, where still the name appears,
Some doors below, they kept for forty years :
And there, with various fortunes, smooth and rough,
They sold tobacco, coffee, tea, and snuff.
There labelled drawers display their spicy row--
Clove, mace, and nutmeg : from the ceiling low
Dangle long twelves and eights , and slender rush,
Mix'd with the varied forms of genus brush ;
Cask, firkin, bag, and barrel, crowd the floor,
And piles of country cheeses guard the door.
The frugal dames came in from far and near,
To buy their ounces and their quarterns here.
Hard was the toil, the profits slow to count,
And yet the mole-hill was at last a mount.
Those petty gains were hoarded day by day,
With little cost, for not a child had they ;
Till, long proceeding on the saving plan,
He found himself a warm, fore-handed man :
And being now arrived at life's decline,
Both he and she, they formed the bold design,
(Although it touched their prudence to the quick)
To turn their savings into stone and brick.
How many an ounce of tea and ounce of snuff,
There must have been consumed to make enough !
At length, with paint and paper, bright and gay,
The box was finished, and they went away.
But when their faces were no longer seen
Amongst the canisters of black and green ,
--Those well-known faces, all the country round--
'Twas said that had they levelled to the ground
The two old walnut trees before the door,
The customers would not have missed them more.
Now, like a pair of parrots in a cage,
They live, and civic honours crown their age :
Thrice, since the Whitsuntide they settled there,
Seven years ago, has he been chosen mayor ;
And now you'd scarcely know they were the same ;
Conscious he struts, of power, and wealth, and fame ;
[...] Read more
poem by Jane Taylor
Added by Poetry Lover
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Love And Luck
Better days are in the cards I feel
I feel it in the changing winds
I feel it when I fly
So talk to me
Listen to this story
I've been around enough to know
That there's more than meets the eye
Everbody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me and I'll rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
With a little love and luck you will get by
With a little love and luck we'll take the sky
In this megalo-moern world you've got to try
Try a little love and luck and you'll get by
Mysteries
Don't ever try to change em'
We're just players in this game
And No ones keepin' score
So have your fun
Go aheadand tell your story
Find yourself a lover who will glue you to the floor
Everbody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me and I'll rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
With a little love and luck you will get by
With a little love and luck we'll take the sky
In this megalo-moern world you've got to try
Try a little love and luck and you'll get by
Kole sere
Kole sere
Kole sere
Kole sere
Everbody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me and I'll rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
With a little love and luck you will get by
With a little love and luck we'll take the sky
In this megalo-moern world you've got to try
Try a little love and luck and you'll get by
song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Yo Te Voy A Amar
cuando sientas tristeza que no puedas calmar
Cuando haya un vacio que no puedas llenar
Te abrazare, te hare olvidar
Lo que te hizo sufrir, no vas a caer mientras este junto a mi.
(chorus)
Si siente un frio tu corazon
Sere tu abrigo, tu ilusion
Hasta ya no respirar,
Yo te voy a amar, yo te voy a amar.
Yo siempre te he amado, y amor yo estare
Por siempre a tu lado nunca me alejare
Prometo mi amor
Te juro ante dios (te juro ante dios)
Nunca te voy a faltar
Tu corazon no volvera a llorar.
Si siente un frio (siente un frio) tu corazon (tu corazon)
Sere tu abrigo, tu ilusion
Hasta ya no respirar
Yo te voy a amar, yo te voy a amar.
Sigo muriendo por ti (sigo muriendo por ti)
Yo te quiero asi
Sin tu amor en mi vida, mi vida
No se como podre yo vivir.
Si siente un frio tu corazon (si siente un frio tu corazon)
Sere tu abrigo, tu ilusion (sere tu abrigo, tu ilusion)
Hasta ya no respirar, yo te voy a amar.
Y cada dia yo vivire
Intentando como te voy a querer
Hasta ya no respirar, yo te voy a amar.
Hasta ya no respirar
Yo te voy a amar
Yo te voy a amar.
song performed by N Sync
Added by Lucian Velea
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