(Y)our shadow knows all ...

I was yesterday under the good leaves, sheltering from the rain under a green cloak of birch leaves, waiting like a young fool for Gwen with Helen's brow; when Standing dismally before me face to face, I saw a figure; at which, though it stood mild and harmless, I shuddered, and against some evil Visitation crossed my body with a holy charm.

"Speak! Break your silence! If you are a man, what are you?"

"I! - I am your shadow, strange. For Mary's sake be silent, and not hinder me from telling you ... kindly, I am come here, and stand naked at your side, showing you by enchantment, your own image.

"Why should you, a sheltered shrinking creature, follow me? Are wages paid you, long-legged scarecrow, by Jealousy, that cold and wailing wolf, for watching me?"

"Dear man, I am no spreading ghost, no hideous chimera ..."

"Then what? A giant's offspring? A bald and monstrous spirit? No more of a doddering old man an apparition of bitter yet not even in your shape a man; with the shanks of a hag limping on black crutches; herdsman of a foul pack of ghosts, bogey in a bald monk's form! Like the heron that plucks at the reeds of the bog, or rises on ghostly shanks over the corn, with the face of a palmer and a blockhead rolled in an old rag, your back smeared dark with mud Where were you rolled then? In the muck of the farmyard?"

"Secretly I follow you for ever among the pleasant woods: weak though I am, remarking your deceits and thousand tricks. Your whole day I could describe to you, and this I know ..."


"Which of my faults should you know, more than the whole world knows? You with your pitcher's neck, the devil's dung to you! I've not disowned my country, nor killed a dog, you slanting shadow! Nor killed hens with a hurling-stone, nor frightened little children, nor have I offended against virtue, in interfering with strange women!"

"But if I told these things I know to some who do not know them, then would their rage quickly be loosed and ... faith! You would be crucified!"

"Then draw a knot tight against publishing these things, and on these faults of mine, sew up your lips against the world."

Dafydd ap Gwilym

May the sun flower ...

... and both you and I enjoy a golden October. :)

A hard day's night

Just a daily phenomenon

The last potatoes digged up, the field rakened and green manure sowed, one morello tree shortened by about two metres, peppermint and sage picked and dried;
... that happened end of August. Ah! And the magic of all those flowers ...

Meanwhile almost four weeks have flown by; since, there has happened quite a lot on this planet quite a few of which you might even have come to "know" as it has been covered in (y)our media.
One daily news you will neither have read in your daily newspaper nor heard elsewhere, though, as being published / told day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year, decade by decade that yesterday approximately 30 / 40,000 children have been dying of starvation would be bloody depressing ... well, at least damn boring, would you agree?

Life is difficult enough to thoroughly enjoy, isn't it? If only I think of that the other day a bit too much sea-salt in the tomatoe soup spoilt my dinner.

Who in our civilised world would be able to care about how many women have been raped in Congo or elsewhere, while I was kept busy with picking plums, for hours? I mean, it's not my or your business. I can't change anything, can I? And neither can you, hm?

Not that I would not feel pity, whenever I come to think of it for some seconds now and then; but that's life, isn't it?

One is getting raped, a second tortured, a third murdered, while I am busy with watching butterflies and (bumble-)bees enjoying their kind of milk and honey that is flowing in Seanhenge, and while you perhaps are struggling with what outfit to choose for tomorrow's dinner party.

Ah, I should not have started this. Did I write 30,000 children per day?
That means, 750,000 children within 25 days, doesn't it? Phew!

Coming to think of it: Isn't it wonderful, magic well-nigh, that despite of this marginal phenomenon not worth to daily make its way into the news, there are living more than six billion human beings on this wonderful planet, thus about four times more than when I was born, about half a century ago?

Thinking positive - and aren't we told to always think positive?! - we are blessed that day by day 30- / 40,000 children are dying of starvation, aren't we?

Ah, no! Really! See? Such easily a post's content is being manipulated by thoughts about marginal daily phenomenons that are not worth mentioning.

Let alone, that I can be absolutely sure that those who are reading this are able to distinguish cynism from sarcasm, it's a great relief to know that most of those poor? nameless? anyway: unnamed creatures - and I am not talking about those 40,000 children who day by day are leaving this planet to enjoy life in this or that paradise, depending of the god their still somehow surviving parents are made to believe in - are analphabets.

In this sense.
A most joyous weekend to those
able to read.
May your god bless you,
and if it (read: your god) were the head of a dead sardine.

Enjoy
the peace of the night ...

in which - provided you are sleeping eight hours - approximately some more than 10,000 children are dying of starvation.

Not my kind of music, but ...

... who cares? It was not his fault, anyway.

This man was kind of a genius.
Happy birthday, Mr. Robinson. :)

At least for a while ...