Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Tinker Bell Cake Toppers

CHARTER



Ithaka (Constantine Cavafy)

When you On the way to Ithaca,
want it to be a long road,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
At Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the angry Poseidon
not fear, Such
never find your way, if you keep
high thinking and emotion
select your spirit and your body enticing.
At Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, wild Poseidon
not find,
if not carry them within your soul, your soul
if not placed before you.
like to make it a long way.
there be many summer mornings
that with what joy, what joy you will enter ports
never seen before,
you stop at Phoenician marts, and acquires
valuables
pearl and coral, amber and ebony, and perfumes
sensual of all kinds, many more perfumes
sexy can,
go to cities of Egypt, to many,
learn and learn from the learned.
Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
The arrival there is your destiny.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
Better if it lasts for years, and now old
stop at the island, rich with all
gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to give you wealth.
Ithaka gave you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have set out.
But it has more to give.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka will not deceive you.
so wise as I did, with so much experience, and understand what they mean
the Ithaca





Constantine Cavafy
Greek poet born in Alexandria. Egypt (1863), where he spent most of his life.
key figure in Greek literature of the twentieth century. Relentless self-criticism, often affected by his own heterodoxy, Cavafy published little during his life. He rejected the traditional values \u200b\u200bof Christianity, the heterosexual ethic, nationalism and patriotism. Cavafy created a personal style, something solemn and archaic, mixed with the Greek of his time. In his verses make up the Hellenistic and Byzantine history with contemporary issues, as in two of his best known poems, 'The god abandons Antony' and 'Ithaca', written in 1911.
Cavafy's work became known outside Greece through the references of EM Forster's study of Alexandria, Alexandria: History and Guide (1923).
Since 1930 his influence was important not only in young Greeks, but also foreign writers, and from this time the critical writings on his work are increasing.
A new push Cavafy's work took place with the publication of the Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell (1957-1960). He died in 1933


PD / Ithaca is a beautiful poem, and our road is long and full of adventure ... Freyja


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Friday, November 7, 2008

Game Planitary Pinball On Funbrain

Paradise Lost love



Paradise Lost

(Rafael Alberti)

Through the centuries,
by nothing in the world,
me sleepless, looking for you.
Behind me, imperceptible, without
grazed my shoulder, my angel
dead watch.

"Where Paradise
shadow, you who have you been?"
question with silence. Cities

unanswered
speechless rivers, mountains
without echoes, silent seas.
Nobody knows. Fixed
men, standing at the edge of the graves
stop,
ignore me. Bird sad songs
petrified
course ecstatic,
blind. They know nothing.

Without sun, wind old
inert in
leagues go, rising
charred
falling back, some say. Diluted
, formless
the truth that hides itself,
avoid me heaven.
early as the end of the earth,
on the last edge, sliding
eyes
me dead in the hope that

green porch looking into the black chasms.

gap shadows Oh!
Hervidero the world!
What confusion of centuries!
Back, back!
What horror of darkness without voices!
I lost my soul!
"Angel dead, wake up.
Where are you with your lightning illuminates
return."

Silence. More silence.

Imóviles
pulses of endless night.
Paradise Lost!
fetch-missing, I
without light forever.

Through the centuries,
by anything in the world,
me sleepless, looking for you.

Behind me, imperceptible, without
grazed my shoulder, my angel
dead watch.

"Where Paradise
shadow, you who have you been?"
question with silence. Cities
unanswered
speechless rivers, mountains
without echoes, silent seas.

Nobody knows. Men
fixed, standing,
shore stop the graves,
ignore me. Bird sad songs
petrified
course ecstatic,
blind. They know nothing.

Without sun, wind old
inert in
leagues go, charred
rising, falling back
, some say. Diluted

, formless
the truth that hides itself,
avoid me heaven.

already at the end of the earth,
on the last edge, sliding
eyes
dead in me the hope that

green porch looking into the black chasms. Oh
gap shadows!
Hervidero the world! What
confusion of centuries!
Back, back!
What horror of darkness without voices!
I lost my soul!
"Angel dead, wake up.

Where are you with your lightning illuminates
return."
Silence. More silence. Imóviles

pulses of endless night.
Paradise Lost!

fetch-missing, I
without light forever.



A poem about pain through the soul, love when we do not find that Paradise Lost .... Freyja


Dear Friends:
Only thank you for being close, sometimes complicated health've been away, not forgetting
I visit them every one, my big hug and many thanks


Verena Sánchez Doering



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