Edgar Allen Poe
Wanted his cheeks to glow.
So he wore blusher.
When writing The Fall of the House Of Usher.
Edgar Allen Poe
Wanted his cheeks to glow.
So he wore blusher.
When writing The Fall of the House Of Usher.
'Alla barnen = 'All the kids' is a children's humorous verse form, from Denmark and Sweden. Like Scandinavian detective writing it can be a bit dark. But still funny.
Below are some classics rendered into English. Google Translate did the heavy lifting but I applied some finishing touches, here and there, such as making the rhymes work.
All the kids loved the World Wildlife Fund, except Amanda.
She shot a panda.
All the kids enjoyed their burgers, except Tony.
It was his pony.
All the kids looked into the washer, except Doug.
He went glug.
And here is a distasteful one of my own.
All the kids worried about the smell, except Ed.
He was the one that was dead.
They've just built a new bus shelter in the village. Trouble is, it's too small for the bus.
I was grilled about my favourite cheese. I had to answer carefully.
We cross the ice-bridge one by one.
Will it bear my weight?
Far below I hear the beautiful sound of falling crystals.
"Time, why do you hurt us so?"
"It is my fate. And you would never wish to share it."
If you wish to learn
The indescribable beauty of snails
Just cast your eyes humbly down.
I never said anything
Because there was too much to say.
And now it's too late
Go for chicken stir-fry? Defrost some fish? I was stuck between a wok and a hard plaice.
I'm going to Bury St Edmund's in the morning. It's a big job.
I'd like to come back as a wildebeest. So I could start a gnu life.
Tonight's connecting theme will be obvious. Sleep well!
"This bear should be given a title", Tom asserted.
"Someone's being hiding our bedtime toys again", Tom noted.
"This bear is sick", Tom reported.
"This bear should not be moved", Tom stated.
"My soft toys are losing their stuffing", Tom indicated.
"Bears for ever!", Tom orated.
Ours was the smallest possible steamship company.
I really admire the Swiss. For me they are a roll model.
"Evening all", Tom said entrancingly.
"Everyone have a drink on me", Tom said roundly.
"It's an old drinking song", Tom said bruisingly.
"Ready salted please", Tom said crisply.
"The pub's run out of beer", Tom said bitterly.
"Guinness is good for you", Tom said stoutly.
"Let's have just one more", Tom said tightly.
"See you all tomorrow", Tom said regularly.
"Nobody likes advice", I said. But they didn't listen.
Suddenly Death was at my throat
And all at once brought me down.
Paws hard on my rib cage
Cold breath in my face.
Oh the stench of it.
I'm a big fan of the film maker Roy Andersson. If you want to know why, see this interview.
Tonight I'm watching 'You, the Living', whose title is from a poem by Goethe. It's the middle film of a trilogy that took 14 years to make. They are humanistic films, about poetry and existence.
There are many YouTube clips so you can join me if you want.
The other night, in my local pub, 'The Moon Under Water', a friend brought in an archaeological find, a gold coin.
Photographing coins is hard, because getting the lighting is tricky, especially on a bar counter, but here is my snapshot.
This is a Celtic gold stater. 'Stater' is from Greek, and the Greeks and the peoples from Asia Minor they traded with were the first in the western world to mint coins, about 600 BCE, see this famous example from the British Museum.
Incidentally the origin of the word stater is of great interest. It meant 'weight' and is connected with Latin stare, English stand, the suffix -stan (as in Parkistan), and similar words in most Indo-European languages.
Knowledge of the use of coins diffused westward and eventually reached the Iron Age people of Gaul and Britain. One suggestion is that the idea could have been transmitted by Celtic mercenary soldiers, perhaps fighting under Phillip or Alexander the Great, who survived and returned safe home with coins in their pockets. Or perhaps dissemination was via Rome.
Either way, before the Romans conquered the fashion had caught on and the Gauls and the Britons minted their own staters. This is one from that era.
It is a 'uniface' coin; the reverse is just a smooth, slightly convex, surface. The design you can see in my photograph is a stylized horse, a common motif on staters.
It would have been 'struck': an engraver would have cut a die from a harder metal and used it to stamp out the coin. Looking at online images of these coins, many thousands of which have been found, it's impossible not to be impressed by the artistry of the engravers. Even though they followed stereotypes, every individual die had its own originality and lively depiction of the things it portrayed, like the horse in the photograph.
I advertised a sundog.
Cunobeline, the 'Cymbeline' of Shakespeare's play, was a real person, a king of the part of modern Britain where I live now, with a domain stretching from Hertfordshire to Essex. He was probably in power from about 5 BCE until around 40 AD.
'Cunobeline' means 'Dog of the sun'. The first element 'cuno' means dog, as in Latin canus (think canine) or Ancient Greek kunos (as in cynic, the kunikoi were the 'dog philosophers').
The second element is from the Celtic god Belenus, whose name seems to mean 'shining' and who may have been a sun god. His name survives in the name of the summer festival Beltane and he was associated with the horse and the wheel, perhaps connected with the sun's passage across the sky.
The coin in my photograph is probably from one of the sundog Cunobeline's mints, since it's believed there was one not far from here.
Here's a striking quotation from Cymbeline. It's one of my favorites from Shakespeare.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Woodsmoke!
We snuffled greedily.
Still in my hair.
This blog might contain posts that are only visible to logged-in users, or where only logged-in users can comment. If you have an account on the system, please log in for full access.