annonce
annonce
(visninger)Populære tråde
Mellemrummet 20959472
Åndelig Føde 2726320
Angst – Tro – Håb – Kærlighed 2646563
Så er der linet op... 1981641
Jesu ord 1677655
Galleri
Rødhus december
Hvem er online?
0 registrerede 130 gæster og 125 søgemaskiner online.
Key: Admin, Global Mod, Mod
Skriv et nyt svar.


Smilies Opret hyperlink Opret link til e-mailadresse Tilføj billede Indsæt video Opret liste Fremhæv noget tekst Kursiv tekst Understreg noget tekst Gennemstreg noget tekst [spoiler]Spoiler tekst her[/spoiler] Citer noget tekst Farvelæg noget tekst Juster skifttype Juster skiftstørrelse
Gør tekstruden mindre
Gør tekstruden større
Indlæg ikon:
            
            
 
HTML er slået fra.
UBBCode er slået til..
Indlæg valgmuligheder








Som svar til:
Skribent: Simon
Emne: Re: Mellemrummet

P.s.:

ESPECIALLY WHEN THE OCTOBER WIND

Especially when the October wind
With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,
By the sea side, hearing the noise of birds,
Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks
My busy heart who shudders as she talks
Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.

Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark
On the horizon walking like the trees
The wordy shapes of woman, and the rows
Of the star-gestured children in the park.
Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches,
Some of the oaken voices, from the roots
Of many and thorny shire tell you notes,
Some let me make you of the water’s speeches.

Behind a pot of ferns the wagging clock
Tells me the hour’s word, the neural meaning
Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning
And tells the windy weather in the cock.
Some let me make you of the meadow’s signs;
The signal grass that tells me all you know
Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye.
Some let me tell you of the raven’s sins.

Especially when the October wind
(Some let me make you of autumnal spells,
The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales)
With fists of turnips punishes the land,
Some let me make you of the heartless words.
The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry
Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury.
By the sea’s side hear the dark-vowelled birds

*

IN MY CRAFT OR SULLEN ART

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor head my craft or art.

- Dylan Thomas.

mvh & nisselig weekend
Simon
Seneste indlæg
Troens frihed
af Arne Thomsen
09/06/2025 11:49
Hvad sker der i disse dage?
af somo
02/06/2025 08:12
Misforståelsen
af somo
26/05/2025 10:06
Religioner globalt set
af Arne Thomsen
22/05/2025 19:22
Lys
af Hanskrist
18/04/2025 04:14
Nyheder fra DR
Israels flåde har angrebet havn i Yemen
10/06/2025 08:22
Næsten uændret inflation i maj
10/06/2025 08:16
Dyreinternater forventer travl sommer me..
10/06/2025 07:16
Samtaler mellem Kina og USA fortsætter ..
10/06/2025 07:15
Australien kontakter USA, efter journali..
10/06/2025 06:57
Nyheder fra kristeligt-dagblad.dk
Inflationen rykkede sig et lille nøk op..
10/06/2025 06:08
Nu har Danmark mere end seks millioner i..
10/06/2025 06:07
”Det er hensynsløst. Meningsløst”:..
10/06/2025 05:50
Anmeldere: Sass Larsens nye bog efterlad..
10/06/2025 05:27
Sydkoreanske kpop-stjerner har aftjent d..
10/06/2025 05:18