Picture of flowers on the notebook’s cover
They are beautiful those printed flowers
Violet blue with violent sparks
God knows how I like to write by hand
Picture of flowers on the notebook’s cover
They are beautiful those printed flowers
Violet blue with violent sparks
God knows how I like to write by hand
I write letters to you though you’re in the Otherworld
I type your name in the search box of the browser
I know, you’ve left this sick demented world
But I keep writing till I am tired, till I get drowsy
I know there’ll be no response from you, because there can’t be any
I know that all I do in life, I do in vain
This is so meaningless, it’s not worth a thought or penny
But I keep writing, whispering in my sick, demented brain
Concocting visions, someone who’s less dense
Would have figured this out by now
That writing to the Otherworld makes precious little sense
Since none will answer, and you’ve stuck with “why” and “how”
The dim light is extinguished, the memory’s dirty sheets
Are wrapped around remembrance in the early hour
Of the lost past, I am thankful for the gifts and sweets
I am restless, mad the mood is gloomy, sour
You’ve gone! What’s happened cannot be undone
I feel I am low, I am high though I am not yet on drugs
And what’s the point of this? Say hi to everyone
I do remember:
Love and hugs.
The Azure Sea of an alien tongue
Lures the perpetual orphan in me
Me who had never been happy or young
Always suppressed and never free
One who is always betrayed and abused
One who’s been abandoned, alone
One, never loved, and one, always used
I have so aged but alas never grown
Never grown up, still a parentless child
Never content and never at peace
It would be so nice to be gone in the wild
Just to be gone, disappear and cease.
We wish all of you very a Happy Victory Day.
The Nazi Germany, the predecessor of today’s European Union and of the transatlantic Fourth Reich was soundly defeated and its signed unconditional surrender in May 1945. And there should be no doubt that its’ today’s heirs and descendants, their sponsors and supporters, will be defeated and some just destroyed, smashed, and done away with for good, as well.
Happy Victory Day – May 9, 2022
Victory Day fireworks today on May 9, 2022, in St. Petersburg. I took the photograph, so the copyright is by Fledermaus(i).
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Maybe I should have titled this English of William of Dunbar or William Dunbar’s English, but I haven’t — because I am unsure what exactly is the language in which William Dunbar composed his poems. Or rather, I am pretty certain that the language is English, though literary authorities claim it’s not.
William Dunbar (1450-1513 or 1530) wrote in Scots. It’s a Germanic language, but to me, the tongue doesn’t appear as a distinct language but as an obvious, unmistakable variety of English.
In fact, it’s striking how similar Dunbar’s language is to modern English, What remains to me is unclear is how exactly Scots managed to displace Middle Irish or Middle Gaelic first at the Scottish court and then in Scotland.
Let me translate or rather “re-spell” some of Dunbar’s English, this excerpt is from his Gracia Plena.
Hale, sterne superne, hale in eterne,
In Godis sicht to schyne!
Lucerne in derne for to discerne
Be glory and grace devyne;
Hail, Supreme Star, Hail in Eternity
In God’s Own Sight to shine
A Lamp in Darkness to discern
By Glory and Grace Divine
As you can see, odd spelling aside, practically all the words are the same as they are in modern English. The only exceptions are the words sterne and sicht. I speak German as well, and if you are even a little familiar with German, you would recognize right away that stern(e) means (a) star and sicht is sight. Lucerne – from luce or lux which means light can either be translated as either a lamp, like a lantern, or just an abstract source of light.
What else, for me, Dunbar’s poetry has been a discovery. Though nominally the language he wrote in is not even exactly English (though I’d say that to me it sounds like English. It passes the duck test: If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck) his verse is comprehensible (probably even more and definitely not less than Shakespeare’s), rich, beautiful and enjoyable to read.
Not every sale must be a scam
Not every can of canned pork Spam
Besides, Spam is quite delicious
Though some folks say it’s not nutritious
But what a hungry morning begs
Bien sûr, it begs for Spam and eggs
So for the pleasure of programming
Let us enjoy both spam and spamming