Fuzzy-Head

A cloudy torso,
ancient beauty, fuzzy-head.
Ephemeral face.

Hundertster Geburtstag

Hardly could believe when checking my archive. Almost seven years have past since I posted this.

Today George Tabori would become 100 years old. And certainly this birthday would be as beautifully celebrated as his 90th, with an homage of which I share the 12th and last part with you.

Voilà.

Nonantième anniversaire

:)
What are two days in 90 years, hm?

Thus with two delay a tiny homage a Charles Aznavour. Enjoy

On the Road

Down the hill . . .

Friday is Skyday

65 years later . . .

Monochrome Monday

. . .

Closing Time

Kataract

Eyesolation.

Among the Green

West of Seanhenge.

Blue White Green

East of Seanhenge.

Once again

It's again the time . . .

. . . of marguerites galore..

Eyesolation

Neyebourhoodwatch.

Windowverse

Looking northwards.

While the nestlings are waiting

Get away, human.
In other words: Fuck off, man.
This fly isn't for you.

On the Road

By passing this view
my thoughts flew far far away.
Wondrous brains.

Water, Light, Sky and Trees

They came from Scotland

As Time Goes By

Old and New

On the Road

Passing such idylls
mostly does help me to praise
taciturnity.

Under the Rainbow

Under the rainbow
sitting on top of a fir,
a sentinel: Crow.

Windowverse

The other side of the rainbow.

Saturday Rainbow

. . . this time . . .

. . . missing the chimneys.

Friday is Skyday

Chim, chimney
Chim, chimney
Chim, chim, cher-ee . . .

Q.e.d.

One for the shysters of Monsanto & Co. . . .

Got it, GOOGLE!

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Got it

In other words:

By being lazy and thus still using your services I do help you . . .

Oh, wrong label.
It's not about 'organised stupidity', but about organising stupidity.
 

May

Okay: April

Childhood

How could they survive?
Well, they had a telephone.
Their parents had none.

On the Road

It's not Majorca.

Dandelion Tree.

One stem,
sixty-nine blossoms.

Friday is Skyday

Before thunderstorm.
Just a few minutes to go.
What an atmosphere!

Rather be it Shakespeare*

On Shakespeare's 450th birthday and
the 398nd anniversary of either his death
and the death of Cervantes
just to wish a very special literary evening.

It's also the (International) Day of the book?

Well, yes. But isn't every day a day of the book?

Comparing the results of my recent attempts to write some sonnets myself with what I am rereading these days, I came to the conclusion, in order not to put anyone off the realm of poetry, to post rather one from the Master of Avondale.

Alack what poverty my muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside.
O blame me not if I no more can write!
Look in your glass and there appears a face,
That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
For to no other my verses tend,
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell.
       And more, much more than in my verse can sit,
       Your own glass shows you, when you look in it.

* Blessed be your good memory. Well, indeed, knowing I would be fighting with a deadline, I went back to April 23rd, 2009, copied and pasted, updated the years, and voilà.
After all, it's no dissertation. 

Les Nuits de Fourvière

Anoushka Shankar

Sitar

Seems I need that

Deadline getting close,
getting closer and closer –
and I am posting.

:)

In Times of Peace

They hardly could know
in summer nineteen-fourteen
what was to come, hm?

It's about biofuel, stupid!

There's no rye to catch
for The Catcher in the Rye.
Modern husbandry.

On the Road

Not in Italy,
many miles northwards I drove
and thought: Tuscany.

Friday is Skyday [100]

After all, the hundredth Skyday.

Last Yoik in Saami Forests?

"When the thief is strong enough, he can make it look right." 
[Heikii Hyvärinen, lawyer, Sami Parliament]



A video documentary for the UN, produced by the Saami Council.

Sami People

In the Hands of the Night

Mari Boine

On the Road

Homewards.

Der Weg ist das Ziel

A good traveller has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.

Earth, the Mother of Life

Nils-Aslak Valkeapää

Survivor [?]

Sun
Flower
2013

Hear Hear

Gula gula
nieida
gánda
Gula máttut dál du èurvot
Manin attát eatnama duolvat
mirkkoduvvot
guoriduvvot

Gula jiena
nieida
gánda
Gula máttaráhkuid jiena
Eana lea min buohkaid eadni
dan jos goddit ieza jápmit

Leatgo diktán ieèèat báinnot
Leatgo iešge mielde gilvvus
Gula máttut dál dus jerret
Itgo don muitte gos don vulget

Dus leat oappát
Dus leat vieljat
Lulli - ameriihka arvevuvddiin
Ruonaeatnama geadgerittuin
Itgo don muitte gos don vulget

Gula gula
nieida
gánda
Gula máttut dál du èurvot
Manin attát eatnama duolvat
mirkkoduvvot
guoriduvvot

Gula jiena
nieida
gánda
Gula máttaráhkuid jiena
Eana lea min buohkaid eadni
Dan jos goddit ieza jápmit

Composed by Mari Boine

Translation:

Hear the voices of the foremothers
Hear
They ask you why you let the earth become polluted
Poisoned
Exhausted
They remind you where you come from
Do you hear?
Again they want to remind you
That the earth is our mother
If we take her life
We die with her.

Mari Boine

Chimneys

More colours tonight
– why would I not be surprised? –
than a camera can catch.

Yoik of the Wind

Lady's Smock

My annual reward for not mowing too soon.

Kick-off 3p.m.

Believe it or not,
Her Royal Highness portrayed
as a Page Three Girl;

Neither in The Sun,
nor the Daily Mirror. though.
Cost me two shillings.

Official Programme:
Legendary Cup Final.
Found in my archive.

Misty Saturday Morning

Quietude.

Liekkas

Warm

Beneath a starlit sky
I make traces
As signs of the northern light
dance above

In the care of silence
my breathing echoes
Something whispers to me
that you are on your way

Hold my hand
Stroke my cheek
Whisper beautiful words
Comfort me tenderly
Please, be warm so I woun't freeze
Give me also a yoik...

Jorgalan / translated by: Marja Skum


Brita Maret Sofia Jannok

Warm

Under a blanket of stars
I'm leaving traces
as signs from the northern lights
flicker in the sky

In the care of silence
my breaths resonate
Something whispers
that you are on your way

Hold my hand
Stroke my cheek
Whisper beautiful words
Soothe me softly
Be warm
so I'm not cold
Give me a yoik...
Read more at http://www.lyrics.com/liekkas-warm-lyrics-sofia-jannok.html#6G5ZOAScf4Tw4fD4.99

Friday is Skyday

Practise flight; slowly,
not as elegant as birds,
and much more noisy.