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
18 september Rødhus strand
Hvem er online?
0 registrerede 21 gæster og 157 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
Misforståelsen
af somo
11/10/2025 09:51
Egen tro - og andres
af Anonym
08/10/2025 19:03
Godmorgen og god dag
af Hanskrist
05/10/2025 12:26
Dumme svin
af Hanskrist
10/09/2025 10:25
Lys
af Hanskrist
06/09/2025 11:11
Nyheder fra DR
Fyns Politi sigter mand for trusler mod ..
17/10/2025 11:57
Søn til stifter af kendt tøjmærke eft..
17/10/2025 11:38
Største lokale trepart har landet en af..
17/10/2025 11:19
Tysker fik bøde for at gå på Storebæ..
17/10/2025 11:07
Militærleder taget i ed som præsident ..
17/10/2025 11:03
Nyheder fra kristeligt-dagblad.dk
Politiet sigter 31-årig mand for trusle..
17/10/2025 09:54
FN: 560 ton mad er kommet ind i Gaza dag..
17/10/2025 09:22
Trump triumferer over Gaza-krigens endel..
17/10/2025 09:00
24-årig varetægtsfængslet in absentia..
17/10/2025 08:59
Tysk mand fik bøde for at gå på Store..
17/10/2025 08:52