The seagulls are crying
Swirling up to spray
Upon the ocean of my mind
Blown, by a breeze of yesterday.
Oh! the simple gentle thoughts
The loneliness of the prisoner
To see the golden mermaid of the rock
Yet, to be cut adrift from her.
The mind knows no doors
A burning candle in the night
To seek the green or grey of yesterday
Or the 'if' the 'wish' or 'might'.
In the tomb the darkest depths
The candle flickers dying
Death is slaying life unseen
While the seagulls are crying.
Bobby Sands, died May 5th, 1981
After having hacked yesterdays 'post' and having forgotten to wish you The Peace of Walpurgis Night I went to bed. Somehow I couldn´t sleep. So I got up again, put on my clothes, took the car and drove into the night. After some miles I decided to try what I had not done since I was a little boy. In X - my birthplace - I left the car, looked around to make sure nobody watched me, and then ran as fast as I could and ... yes ... took off. And nobody running behind me, trying to reach my legs and pulling me down. How lovely flying over the roofs.
So why not making a little trip?
30 minutes later I could see fire shining on the Brocken. As I have no official flying-license, and to avoid the traffic jam over the top, I landed smoothly at the foot of the Brocken, and started to climb. It was raining now, but I didn´t mind. After one hour I arrived at a small clearing. Crossing it suddenly a fairy appeared in front of me, aside her a Leprechaun.
"What are you doing here, Sean?" the fairy asked.
"Climbing up to the top of the Brocken."
"Could be the shortest way to hell", snorted the Leprechaun. "Any milk in your pockets?"
Oh dear. Of course I had no milk in my pockets. That could become difficult. Leprechauns can get extremely naughty, if one has no milk for them, and if it´s deep in the night inmidst a clearing half way to the top of the Brocken.
Automatically I searched my pockets, and ... felt ... impossible ... something cool ... a bottle of milk.
Whilst reaching it to the Leprechaun my eyes thought to catch a smile from the fairy's lips.
"Thank you, mate", the Leprechaun said without any surprise in his voice, and immediately started to drink.
"Thank you", I thought in direction of the fairy.
"You are welcome", she said. "Have a wish?"
"Eh, you mean ...?"
"Indeed."
"Any rules?"
"He sounds like a damn clever Paddy", the Leprechaun giggled.
"Indeed", said the fairy. "Even fairies couldn´t fulfil the wish of making a peaceful paradise of this planet. Therefore your wish must be a very personal one."
"Hm. ... Allright then: I wish ..."
"Stop!" said the Leprechaun.
"Yes?"
"You must not speak out your wish, otherwise the magic is gone. Just think it."
"Thank you, friend. But why are you so kind?"
The Leprechaun took his pipe between his lips, blew some smoke-rings and said: "Lucky you had milk in your pockets, mate."
So I thought my wish, and just wanted to say bye, when the Leprechaun asked: "Not surprised we know your name?"
"Well, yes. But I have heard the little folk knows quite a lot."
"We have no cameras, though."
"Cameras?"
"Do you remember the rainbow you shot some years ago on Beara Peninsula?"
"Yes, I like this photo very much."
"So do we", laughed the Leprechaun. "You see, your photo helped us find the gold-pot at the end of the rainbow."
"But ... but ... but how and when did you see the photo? The film got developed in Germany."
"Hm, as you said: We do know quite a lot."
"Keep your secret, friends", I said. We shook hands, and I continued to climb upwards.
Somehow everything was easier. Only the din I thought to have heard from the top had calmed down. Nothing to hear. At last I reached the top. Incredible. Wherever I looked sleeping witches. Two or three seemed to have had an accident: Still sitting on their brooms they looked like being sticked against the trees. Slowly moving on I realized there was only one witch still being dancing. Never heard mystic music reached my ear. I moved on. The witch seemed not to have noticed me. She danced. Beautifully. Ten meters and I'd be able to see her face in the shine of the fire. Trying to make no noise I tiptoed.
Suddenly there was a big noise, as if a giant blew his breath. From one second to the other the fire went out. When my eyes got used to the darkness, I realized a last glowing, in front of where I had seen the witch dancing. At least the full moon sent his silvery shine to the clearing. I hesitated. Carefully I walked on, stumbled over a dead branch. At least I thought so. In the next moment my bottom got a hit, and it was as if a voice hissed: „Idiot." I turned round, bent forward and - it was a broom.
„Was it you who called me idiot?" I whispered.
„At least your ears are intact."
„Why at least?"
„Well, if your eyes were better, you wouldn´t have stumbled over me and disturbed my Peace of the Night."
„Excuse me, but that´s ..."
„Schscht. Not so loud. You could get in damn trouble, if you woke up the ladies. - So now, calm down, sir.: What did you want to ask?"
„Better not to ask anything. I thought it only surprising that you chose ... almost I had said : my phrase."
„Never mind. If you want to stay stupid, don´t ask."
„Well ... then ... How did you come to use it?"
„My boss once - about five years ago - began to wish me the Peace of the Night."
„Your boss?!"
„Well, correctly spoken: my Queen."
„Your Queen? What´s her name?"
„Can´t tell you. Not fancy to get a bloody nose."
„Please."
„No, but you can ask herself."
... and the broom turned around and lay as if sound asleep.
Asking herself? Oh dear! Heart bumping. Blood rushing. Slowly I turned round. There she was. Behind the glooming fire she had stopped dancing. Now she slowly moved in my direction. Passing the gloom I got a glimpse of her face. Unlike the other witches I had seen before, she had no long hair. I got excited. She came closer. Should I flee? No, I decided to stay. Decided? Anyway, soon I'd see her face. 13 meters, twelve, eleven, ten, nine ... three steps more and she would appear in the moon´s cone. ... One ... black brown hair ... two ... my heart jumped ... three ... I saw nothing. I turned round. Where there had been the moon now was a big dark cloud. My knees felt like pudding. My nose smelled a parfume it had never smelled before. What would happen in the next moment? Ah, at least I'd have asked. But only I had opened my mouth I heard her voice very very close to my ear: She said: ...
Z...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz .................
In the next moment I woke up. In front of our house the musicians of the local fire-brigade had intonated „The May has arrived." Later on I saw the car where it is usually parked. But for hours I had eight words echoeing in my head: „I told you, it´s not fate, ... it´s magic!"
That´s my story. And I wonder what will happen next.
Hope you had a lovely dance into the May, and that you didn´t feel too exhausted today.
A row has broken out in Rome about whether the speeches and writings of Pope Benedict should be freely available to everyone or subject to copyright.
The dispute was prompted by revelations that a publishing house in Milan had to pay £10,000 to reprint 30 lines from the first speech by the Pope following his election in April, after the Vatican transferred copyright on papal texts to its own publishing house, Libreria Editrice Vaticana. The Vatican also plans to charge rights on any papal texts of the past 50 years.
Full story here.
SAN GIOVANNI ROTONDO, Italy - The exhumed body of Padre Pio, a saint considered a miracle worker by his devotees, attracted thousands of pilgrims on Thursday when it went on display 40 years after his death.Ah, the older I get, the less time I do have to be diplomatic. No one needs to believe in a god. It's just enough to be good*. To be kind to your neighbours, to the 'strangers/foreigners you meet and to those you love. That's all**.
Full article here.
The Russian tabloid newspaper that reported President Vladimir Putin was planning to marry an Olympic gold medal-winning gymnast has been shut down.Mind you, I am not focusing on Mr. Putin copulating with Angela Merkel, Alina Kabaeva or whomsoever, but on the shutting down of newspapers.
Continue here.
The Afghan government is clearly upset by revelations that Germany's foreign intelligence service (BND) had been spying on the country's trade and industry minister. It says it will approach Berlin in the next few days.
News broke at the weekend that the BND had read e-mail correspondence between Der Spiegel reporter Susanne Koelbl and an Afghan politician between June and November 2006, sparking outrage because of the breach of press freedom.
It only emerged on Thursday (Apr. 24) that Trade and Industry Minister Amin Farhang was the actual target of the operation. No explanation has been given for why he was under scrutiny.
Farhang, who lived in Germany for a number of years, has told the German newspaper Neue Osnabruecker Zeitung that his life was now at risk because the measure implied that he was co-operating with hostile forces.
"Because of this absurd lie that I'm some kind of double agent, my life and the lives of my family are in great danger," he said. "I could be shot on the street tomorrow," he added.
Full article here.
As said, I am not surprised about the fact itself. Just one question, though.
Given I do understand Mr. Farhang correctly, he says his life is at risk because corresponding with a German journalist implies he was co-operating with hostile forces.
So, why are there still hostile German soldiers in Afghanistan?
Would be nice if the answer would not be 'Germany is also defended at the Hindu Kush', for a change.
* not: intelligence services
Chinese troops have been seen on the streets of Zimbabwe's third largest city, Mutare, according to local witnesses. They were seen patrolling with Zimbabwean soldiers before and during Tuesday's ill-fated general strike called by the opposition Movement for Democratic Change (MDC).Well, 10 (in words: ten) Chinese soldiers. I suppose, they are the flame guards who did a great job guarding the Olympic torch in London, Paris & San Francisco, and now got their well deserved reward: holiday in tourist's paradise: Zimbabwe.
Earlier, 10 Chinese soldiers armed with pistols checked in at the city's Holiday Inn along with 70 Zimbabwean troops.
Full article here.
Ah, I start feeling the Olympic spirit of international understanding, and to understand what E. W. Howe meant when he wrote in his Country Town Sayings:South Africa confirmed that it will not intervene to stop a shipment of Chinese-made weapons from reaching Zimbabwe, despite fears of a violent crackdown in the country.
A Chinese ship docked in Durban harbour late on Wednesday carrying three million rounds of ammunition for small arms, 3,500 mortar bombs and mortar tubes, as well as 1,500 rocket-propelled grenades, according to local media.
Full article here.
When a friend is in trouble, don't annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. Think up something appropriate and do it.
Oh it is a difficult thing to do indeed...knowing what the right way to respond to a problem. For first there has to be a problem...and just how the heck does one define a problem or even decide what the problem of the problem is? And then there is the ball of wax that comes from fixing the problem and making a new problem.As if the lady had written this sentence just for me. :)
[...] He is still a good looking old fellow, with a full head of the most wonderful grey hair, now below his ears and curling a little at the ends. When I spoke to him his face lit up, although he has no idea who I am and he really can't speak now, just makes noises. He has the attention span of a flea, so after a moment he wheeled off leaving me standing there. I watched him go, thinking about the university professor of Pharmacy that he once had been and whom I met at the Faculty 46 years ago. Luckily he has never lost his wonderful disposition, as so many do with this terrible disease, and for that I am very grateful because the caregivers all like him and he is relatively easy to take care of. [...]And now let me introduce two bloggers to you who recently gave me their placet to add them to my seldom borings. :)
Why Tibet? Why Palestine? The Rational Choices of ProtestAnd now, what shall I say ... err ... write in order to properly explain what I do appreciate about Mr. Deogolwulf? His up till now 236 'fewtrils'? His widening my horizon? Oh well, is it enough when I tell you that I intend to discover him / his blog by reading his postings chronological, from the very first in May 2005? - Ah, end of the eulogy! :)
Enjoy The Joy of Curmudgeonry.Hm, and herewith we are back at the beginning where I promised you a good laughter at the end of this Wordy Wednesday.
