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image: googleimages

CENTO
A poem consisting only of lines from other poems. This, from the Italian word for patchwork, is almost a technique rather than a form, especially as it can be of any length, and any metre, and need not rhyme; however, as the finished poem is referred to as a cento, just as a sonnet is called a sonnet, it is a form.

This is not my own poem. It’s actually not even a ‘real’ poem. All these lines are Shakespeare’s writing. What I’ve done, was to take lines – with the same theme, which is the moon, and put them together – and I was trying to get it to make sense. The title is my own though, of course. This is what  you call a ‘cento.’

I do love Shakespeare and my favourite is Hamlet, maybe because it was the book prescribed when it was my matric-year. It was always a nightmare, having to study Shakespeare and knowing all those quotes – I think I studied about 50 of the quotes. We had to know from what Act/Scene the quote was and you never knew which quotes you would get, but even that didn’t put me off from Shakespeare.

Moonrider

The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth
It is the very error of the moon
Swifter than the wandering moon
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon
This old moon wanes!
She lingers my desires

Sweet moon, I thank thee for they sunny beams
So many journeys
That I, being govern’d by the waterymoon
Of the extreme verge:
for all beneath the moon
You moonshine revellers and shades of night
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!

Another moon: but, o, methinks, how slow
And the moon changes even as your mind
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon
My lord, I am a mile beyond the moon

-Shakespeare-‘lines’ (c) Nikita

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If you read my blog regularly, you will know that I do write my own poems from time to time….here’s another – but in Afrikaans.

Ek stuur jou die goud
oor die dansende blou waters
nie die koue hartelose soort,
maar die goud van ‘n herfsblaar
malend oor ‘n golwende terras
wat ‘n helder skynsel nalaat:
kontrasterend teen die skemer

Ek stuur jou die goud
van ‘n vertroueling met die warmte:
warmte van ‘n spinnende vlam van vuur
wat jou alkant omsingel en dié
van ‘n liefdevolle glimlag
wat jou las sal verlig
en jou plesier sal verskaf

Ek stuur vir jou die goud
van ‘n laatmiddag sonsondergang
langdurig en langsamerhand
die warmligte aanraking
van die strale wat jou deurboor:
laag vir laag tot in jou siel

Ek stuur jou die goud
van goue vonkelende wense en geluk
alhoewel ek nie fisies daar is,
maar my gedagtes wel, wat nooit verwelk:
my gedagtes, altyd aan jou sy!
Ek stuur vir jou die goud!
–Nikita 19:00 17/03/2012

Carol Burnett: Words, once they are printed, have a life of their own.

A blogreader thought this poem was written by Annesu de Vos and she had replied to Kim’s tweets. Wow, great to see what Annesu thought about a poem I’ve written. I don’t see myself as a poet or professional, but I’m still impressed with her comments.

Ek is bly om te sien dat sommige mense my gedigte geniet EN erkenning gee daaraan. Nie soos sommige ander mense op die internet wat dink dis OKAY om ander se gedigte te kopieer en GEEN erkenning te gee nie!

https://radio-eendrag.page.tl/Gedigte.htm

 


Enjoy the song by Eva Cassidy – Fields of gold

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SA mosaic

You can click on this mosaic for a larger view.

English readers: This poem in this entry is about South Africa. I dedicated the 14th August 2008 to Afrikaans, the language I love and my mother tongue. This is, in our history, used to be an important day as we celebrated Afrikaans as our language. Afrikaans was forbidden to use by Afrikaans speaking people in the Cape when the English occupied the Cape. A sign/tag was placed around children’s necks in schools saying, “donkey”, if they had dared to speak Afrikaans.

On 14th August 1875 the GRA was founded. Their task was to promote Afrikaans. They also requested – on the 24th August 1878 – for the Bible to be translated into Afrikaans.

In this poem I refer to some places and nature.  On the link of my 2008-entry, you can see the Afrikaans Language Monument. Good news for Afrikaans too: WordPress and Facebook have gone Afrikaans! If you choose Afrikaans as your language in the settings in WordPress, you will find most terms on your dashboard in Afrikaans. 

Hoogenhout, a famous South African poet, said the following after Afrikaans was forbidden in schools in the early 1920s.

“English! English! All is English! What you see and hear

In our schools, in our churches, our Mother tongue is killed”

Was dit Hoogenhout wat in ‘n gedig gesê het:

“Engels! Engels! Alles Engels! Engels wat jy sien en hoor;
In ons skole, in ons kerke, word ons moedertaal vermoor.
Ag, hoe word ons volk verbaster, daartoe werk ons leraars saam.
Hollands nog in seek’re skole: is bedrog, ‘n blote naam!
Wie hom nie laat anglisere, word geskolde en gesmaad.
Tot in Vrystaat en Transvaal al, oweral dieselfde kwaad.
‘Dis vooruitgang’, roep die skreeuwers, ‘dis beskawing wat nou kom!
Die wat dit nie wil gelowe, die is ouderwets en dom…’.”

 I‘ve been to a few countries and many places in the UK. I still think South Africa is the most beautiful country in the world. We have such an abundance of beauty and  diversity in nature. We have the greenest canyon in the world- which is also the 3rd largest in the world, we have the highest waterfall in Africa and the 2nd highest in the world, the 3rd longest Tufa waterfall, the deepest mines, the largest zoo, the smallest butterfly, the largest diamond, the second largest amount of windmills on farms (280 000), the largest impact crater on earth, white lions, the largest ostrich population and much more.

On this link of the  The Drakensberg Mountains, you can read about my hiking trip in the Mountain when I was 15. I was on top of Mount Aux Sources, the highest peak of the mountain range in South Africa. The actual highest peak of this mountain range is in Lesotho and the peak is called, Thaba Ntlenyana (which means: beautiful little mountain). “Thaba” means “mountain” – the attributive “yana” means “little”. 

You can see a pic of one of the two chain ladders you have to go on to reach the summit. At the bottom of this post I have included an Afrikaans song by the Art teacher in my Secondary school. He was one of the two teachers on our hiking trip! He sings about “sidewalk people” and I’ve translated it roughly for you to understand.

More interesting facts – from quite a few years ago:

*Pretoria has the second largest number of embassies in the world after Washington, D.C.
*The University of South Africa – UNISA – is a pioneer of tertiary distance education and is the largest international correspondence university in the world with 250,000 students.
*Afrikaans is the youngest official language in the world.
*The Singita Private Game Reserve in the Kruger National Park was voted the best hotel in the world by the readers of travel publication, Conde Nast Traveller.
*Stellenbosch University was the first university in the world to design and launch a microsatellite.
*South Africa houses one of the three largest telescopes in the world at Sutherland in the Karoo.

South Africa is the first country to host a Fide rated Chess tournament where players from different countries played their games online! See my entry about the South African Open Chess Championships that took place in Cape Town.
Read
HERE my post dedicated to Afrikaans only- last year 14th August. 

Afrikaanse Patriot

This stamp was issued October 1975. It was issued on the Inauguration of the Afrikaans Language Monument  and features the 1st edition of the Arikaanse Partiot (January 15, 1876), one of the first newspapers in Afrikaans rather than Dutch.
On this link you can see more stamps of South Africa.

Met die stigting van die Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners op 14 Augustus 1875 in die Paarl is ‘n tydvak van georganiseerde stryd om die Afrikaanse taal ingelui. In artikel IX van die Genootskap se bepalings word beoog om ‘n Afrikaanse maandblad uit te gee. Op hierdie dag in 1876 verskyn die eerste uitgawe van die maandblad Die Afrikaanse Patriot, wat die orgaan van die GRA sou wees. C.P. Hoogenhout was die eerste redakteur onder die skuilnaam Oom Lokomotief, wat deur die redakteurs na hom oorgeneem is. In Die Patriot dek die GRA die terreine van hul doelstelling, naamlik die van land, volk en taal. Daarin is leiding gegee ten opsigte van landsake, die Afrikaanse taal, geskiedenis en belangrike nuus. —lees meer op die link!

Suid-Afrika: my land

Jy’s indrukwekkend, manjifiek
jou sondeurdrenkte landskappe
weerkaats helder beelde in my siel
jou pragtige wonders flikker oneindig
lank in die stilte van jou nagrus

Mount Aux Sources – so elegant en grasieus
verrys jy vanuit die voetheuwels, soos
‘n fakkel by die Spele ets jy lekkende
beelde teen die muur van my geheue
en voel ek jou hitte gloeiend teen my hart

O Blyde! ek fantaseer oor jou
magiese kragte wat jy sorgloos
en galant in die galery van my
stille gemoed stilletjies uitpak terwyl
my dawerende applous eggo
oor die velde van my gedagtes

Moederstad! hoe inskiklik laat jy my
telkens hakkel wanneer ek my herinneringe
sagkens koester – jou fasades!
waar ek jou gambiet betree
en gewillig my pionne oorgee

En saans voel ek jou fluweelagtige
skoonheid van elke sonsondergang
stadig neerdaal in my gemoed terwyl
ek stadig drink van jou geloofs-fonteine
wat borrellend bruis in oorvloed

Fragmentaries vier ek feeste
ek dans en omhels jou en jy –
jy blus my gees telkens met jou
magiese heildronke: een-vir-een
op ‘n toekoms – wat mag wees!
–Nikita –14/8/09 14:00

sidewalk people

Sidewalk People

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

I wish I could look at a photo
to see what your world deep inside is like
borrow a piece of your dreams
I wonder who you are

I wish I could understand the language
in which you channelled your thoughts
I wish I could for a moment
share your path of life

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

perhaps it’s best for sure
‘cos if we know all of all
the sadness maybe
too hard too much
the love too beautiful

walk past one another
I stay I and you stay you
a single road leading somewhere
I wish I could understand

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move like shadows in the street past me
Sidewalk People Sidewalk People
Move faceless past my heart

—translated–nikita

sypaadjiemense

image: google

Sypaadjie Mense

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby

ek wens ek kon ‘n kiekie kyk
hoe jou wêreld diep daar binne lyk
‘n stukkie van jou drome leen
ek wonder wie jy is

ek wens ek kon die taal verstaan
waarin jy jou gedagtes baan
ek wens ek kon ‘n oomblikkie
jou lewenspaadjie deel

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby

miskien is dit dalk beter so
want as ons iets van almal weet
die hartseer dalk te swaar te veel
die liefde dalk te mooi

stap maar bymekaar verby
ek bly ek en jy bly jy
‘n enkelpaadjie iewers heen
ek wens ek kon verstaan

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby

Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg soos skimme in die straat verby
Sypaadjie mense Sypaadjie mense
Beweeg gesigloos voor my hart verby


Sypaadjie Mense – Johan vd Watt

 

Sonja Herholdt, Ek verlang na jou.

Herman Holtzhausen – Transkaroo

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elwe

 Image: Wikimedia

‘n Blogger het my vandag gevra na “Die Elwekoning”…sien haar boodskap op “my gedigte/poems”-bladsy. Ek kon geen spoor van die gedig, in Afrikaans vertaal, kry nie. Dit was vir my ‘n aangrypende gedig toe ek dit in Engels lees en het ek besluit ek vertaal dit gou vir haar. 

English readers: I’ve translated this Goethe-poem in Afrikaans for a blog-reader. As a rule I don’t like to translate, only if the poem is really touchy or if it “speaks” to me…almost like this Erl King-poem. On “my poems/gedigte” page you will find a few translations…English to Afrikaans vice versa and a few of my own which I tried. I’m no professional, I have done no particular course in writing poetry, so WYSIWYG…what you see is what you get. Just my own thoughts in words.

Die Elwe-Koning
Wie ry daar so laat deur die donker, somb’re nag?
Dis ‘n vader met sy kind
Hy hou die knaap klemmend in sy arm
Hy hou hom veilig, hy hou hom warm.

“My seun, waarom lyk jy so beangs?”
“Sien vader nie die Elwekoning nie?
 Die Elwekoning met sy kroon en trein?”
“My liewe kind, dis mis wat opstoot in die vlakte.”

“Kom nou, liewe kind, kom nou saam met my
Ek het lekker speletjies om met jou te speel.
Lieflike blomme blom op die strand,
My moeder het baie kledingstukke van goud.”

“My vader, my vader, hoor jy nie die
 beloftes wat die Elwekoning fluister vir my?”
“Wees rustig  my kind, bedaar, dis die
 nagtelike wind se ritseling deur gedroogde blaar’ .”

“Wil jy nie saam met my kom, my seun?
My dogters sal jou liefderyk versorg,
My dogters dans hul nagtelike dans
Hul sal jou wieg totdat jy slaap.”

“My vader, my vader, sien jy nie daar?
Die Elwekoning-dogters in die donker daar?”
“My seun, my seun, ek sien duidelik
hoe grys die wilgerbome lyk.”

“Ek’s lief vir jou, jou skoonheid bekoor my, my seun.
En as jy nie gewillig is, dan moet ek jou forseer!”
“Nee vader, my vader, hy gryp my arm!
Die Elwekoning het my seer gemaak!”

Die pa sidder, sy ry is wild
In sy arms hou hy die kermende kind
Hy kom tuis met ‘n geswoeg en gesweet
In sy arms – die lewelose kind.

Nikita-25/6/09
Oorspronklike gedig deur Goethe

Oeps! Hier het ek so pas die vertaling van SJ du Toit op Litnet opgespoor..waarom kon ek dit nie twee dae terug kry nie? Omdat ek Elwekoning twee woorde gespel het! ..wel, nou kan jy my vertaling vergelyk en natuurlik sien waarom ek nie ‘n digter is nie! hehe
Die Elwekoning
(Goethe)
Wie ry daar so laat deur nag en wind?
Dit is ‘n vader met sy kind;
Hy druk die knapie so styf in die arm,
Hy hou hom veilig, hy koester hom warm.

“My seuntjie berg bang sy gesiggie, vir wie?”
“Sien Vader die Elwekoning dan nie?
Die Elwekoning met mantel en sleep?”
“My kind, dit is ‘n newelstreep.”

“Kom, kindjielief, kom saam met my!
So heerlik speel hul waar ek bly;
Veelkleurige blomme groei op die strand,
Van goud gaan jou kleed wees uit moeder se hand.”-

“My Pappie, is Pappie dan heeltemal doof
Vir wat Elwekoning my saggies beloof?”
“Bly stil, wees rustig maar, my kind!
In dorre blare duisel die wind.”-

“Gaan jy, lief seuntjie, met my saam?
My dogters ken almal reeds jou naam;
My dogters dans voor die nagt’like rei
En wieg jou en dans en sing so bly.” –

“My Vader, kan Vader dan glad nie gewaar
Elwekonig se dogters in die donker kol daar?”
“My seuntjie, my seuntjie, ek sien dit heel goed:
Die ou-gras skyn geel aan die randjie se voet?”

“Jou skoonheid bemin ek, my siel is ontsteld;
En as jy nie wil nie, gebruik ek geweld!”
“My Pappie, my Pappie, nou vat hy my raak!
Elwekoning het my seer gemaak!”

Die vader skrik; hy ry soos die wind,
En hou in sy arms die kreunende kind,
Bereik sy plaas in bange nood;
Die kind lê in sy arms dood.
Vertaling – SJ du Toit

erl dancers


The Erl-King

WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The father it is, with his infant so dear;
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp’d in his arm,
He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.

“My son, wherefore seek’st thou thy face thus to hide?”
“Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?”
“My son, ’tis the mist rising over the plain.”

“Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
Full many a game I will play there with thee;
On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold.”

“My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?”
“Be calm, dearest child, ’tis thy fancy deceives;
‘Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves.”

“Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care
My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
They’ll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep.”

“My father, my father, and dost thou not see,
How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?”
“My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
‘Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight.”

“I love thee, I’m charm’d by thy beauty, dear boy!
And if thou’rt unwilling, then force I’ll employ.”
“My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last.”

The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,–
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.

Erlkönig
Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind.
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?
Siehst Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht!
Den Erlenkönig mit Kron’ und Schweif?
Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.

Du liebes Kind, komm geh’ mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele, spiel ich mit dir,
Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand.

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?
Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind,
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind.

Willst feiner Knabe du mit mir geh’n?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön,
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düsteren Ort?
Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh’es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.

Ich lieb dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt,
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt!
Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an,
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan.

Dem Vater grauset’s, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in den Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not,
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.

(Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1778)

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hawkershutmosaic
(click on the mosaic to have a clear view of the images in the mosaic – Hawker’s Hut is in the first image) 

Photo updates

As I promised this morning, I’m back to tell you about Hawker and his hut. Hawker was a vicar, very famous and the same time eccentric. He built the Rectory Farm with his own money – as the previous one was beyond repair. The Rectory has five chimneys which represented the five parishes where he served previously. He cared for education and built the local primary school – St Mark’s School. The school was built in the shape of a cross.  As a result of the Rectory and school, he was a poor man for the rest of his life. Hawker was not only a vicar, but also a poet. He also introduced the Harvest Festival like we know it today. On the cliffs of Morwenstow – he built a hut from driftwood. In his hut he used to read his mail and write his poems. Apparently he enjoyed getting mail and was quite sad/upset when the postman didn’t bring him any mail. What made him eccentric, – apart from other likes/dislikes –  is the fact that he smoked opium!  He was married twice and his first wife was about 20 years his senior. On his death-bed, 14 August 1875, he was received into the Catholic Church.

We stayed at a B&B in Morwenstow, a tiny hamlet. Shop is about 1,5 miles from Morwenstow towards Bude.  Shop is a tiny village where you will find a primary school, a tiny local shop with a post office and a few houses. Walking distance from the B&B – towards the cliffs of Morwenstow –  is Crosstown, also a tiny hamlet. It is when walking towards Crosstown, that you experience the fresh breeze blowing inland from the jagged coastline and this is where you will find Hawker’s hut, the smallest property of the National Trust. I borrowed a small booklet about this corner of Cornish-land from Carol at the B&B and will need to contact her in order to get the title of the booklet. I think I got distracted by Hector, their dog and I didn’t even finish all my writing about Hawker from the booklet. I’m going to quote what I have  for you to enjoy. I’ve also found some of his poems and a ballad, which is almost like a national anthem for the people of Cornish-country. In my next entry I will have pictures about Boscastle, a beautiful coastal fisherman’s town.  In 2004 Boscastle was flooded and I was surprised to see how the town has recovered.

Robert Stephen Hawker began his priesthood at Morwenstow in 1834. He became one of the best-known, most talked-about clerics in the kingdom. His exploits coping with shipwrecked sailors alone made him a legend in his lifetime. His parish had a background of smuggling and wrecking, non-conformity and a degree of poverty. His people were mostly farmers and labourers and many of the labourers were poverty stricken. He immediately identified himself with the people and the place and put himself on the map and in the history books as one of the most colourful figures of all time in the West country. “Footprints of Former Men” is one book written by him. He had long hair but loathed beards and was proud of his ears which had no lobes – saying the Duke of Wellington had such ears and that the same features could be traced in all the acurate pictures of Our Lord. Oscar Wilde said “One should always be a little improbable.”  R. S. Hawker was more than a little. He had quirks and passions – strong dislikes. Hawker perpetuated the legend (some say he invented it) that the saint Morwena was the daughter of Breachan, a Celtic King who lived in the ninth century. He claimed that he had seen the ghost of saint Morwena. Morwenstow origins from the Celtic word “Morwen” –  which means “white or fair as the sea” – and the Saxon word “stow” which means “Church”. John Betjeman visited the parish in the 1930’s and wrote in his research notes: “Out of the trees rise the vicarage chimney stacks in the form of miniature church towers, part of the Gothic fancy of the builder, the Rev RS Hawker, its poetic and Tractarian vicar…”

Are they not all Ministering Spirits?
By Robert Stephen Hawker

We see them not – we cannot hear
The music of their wing –
Yet know we that they sojourn near,
The Angels of the spring!

They glide along this lovely ground
When the first violet grows;
Their graceful hands have just unbound
The zone of yonder rose.

I gather it for thy dear breast,
From stain and shadow free:
That which an Angel’s touch hath blest
Is meet, my love, for thee!

The Butterfly
By Robert Stephen Hawker

Bird of the moths! That radiant wing
Hath borne thee from thine earthly lair;
Thou revellest on the breath of spring,
A graceful shape of woven air!

The glories of the earth are thine,
The joyful breese, the balmy sky;
For thee the starry roses shine,
And violets in their valleys sigh.

Yet was the scene as soft and bright
When thou wert low in wormy rest:
The skies of summer gushed with light,
The blossoms breathed on Nature’s breast.

But thou that gladness didst not share,
A cave restrained that shadowy form;
In vain did fragrance fill the air,
Dew soften and the sunbeams warm.

Dull was thy day – a living death,
Till the great change in glory came,
And thou, a thing of life and breath,
Didst cleave the air with quivering frame!

My son! my son! read, mark, and learn
This parable of summer skies,
Until thy trusting spirit yearn,
Like the bright moth, to rush and rise.

Lo! round and near, a mightier scene,
With hues that flesh may not behold;
There all things glow with loveliest mien,
And earthly forms have heavenly mould!

Oh! for that place of paths divine,
By the freed soul in rapture trod;
The upper air, the fields that shine,
For ever in the light of God!

‘The Song of the Western Men’.

A good sword and a trust hand!
A merry heart and true
King James’s men shall understand
What Cornish lads can do!

And have they fixed the where and when?
And shall Trelawny die ?
Here’s twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why!

Out spake our Captain brave and bold
A merry wight was he;
‘If London Tower were Michael’s hold’
We’d set Trelawny free

‘We’ll cross the Tamar, land to land:
The Seven is no stay:
With ‘one and all’, and hand in hand;
And who shall bid us nay?.

‘And when we come to London Wall,
A pleasant sight to view,
Come forth! Come forth!
Ye cowards all;Here’s men as good as you

‘Trelawny he’s in the keep and hold:
Trelawny he may die
But here’s twenty thousand Cornish bold
Will know the reason why!
by Robert Stephen Hawker 1825

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Crosstown, where there is a 13th Century pub, “The Bush-Inn”. Crosstown is about 500m from the B&B. It’s also the road towards Hawker’s Hut. The Rectory Farm is about 500m from the Bush-Inn. The Rectory Farm is the 2nd image top-left in the mosaic-image.

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The road to Shop…at this fork – which is about 800m from the B&B – you turn right…

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Inside Hawker’s hut.

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The roof of Hawker’s hut.

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The church of St Morwenna and St John the Baptist at Morwenstow. There are more than 40 graves –  mostly from shipwrecked sailors.

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The church from a different view.

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A ship’s figurehead serves as a grave marker in the churchyard at the church of St Morwenna and St John the Baptist, Morwenstow.

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St John’s Well

If you look closely, you will see the graves of the soldiers.

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This is Hector, the B&B-dog,  he is about 12 years old.

Image: westcountrywalks.com
Click
here for the route and details. This walk is about 2-3 miles. The link will open in a new window.

This incident happened on Friday and we were there Friday till 11 am before we left the area.See the  original news article here. The link will open in a new window.

Sea search called off for missing man

Sunday 12th April 10:00

THE search has been called off for a man who went missing off the Cornish coast. A massive rescue operation was launched on Friday evening after two men got into difficulties on cliffs in North Cornwall. One person was rescued by emergency services halfway down the cliff face at Hawker’s Hut at Morwenstow, north of Bude. He was winched to safety by the helicopter crew from RNAS Culdrose.
The search, which included Bude lifeboat crews, the Bude Coastguard team and officers from Devon and Cornwall police, continued for the second man on Friday night and Saturday before it was abandoned yesterday afternoon. The name of the missing man, who is in his early 20s, is not known at this time.
The circumstances surrounding the rescue operation are still unclear. Speaking on Firday, a spokesman for Bude Lifeboat Station said: “We found clothes belonging to the second casualty at Hawker’s Hut. I don’t think the two people were swimming – it’s more likely that they were climbing down the cliff to see the rock pools and then got into trouble.
“We have a big spring tide at the moment which is very powerful – we are just hoping that he’s not in the water.”

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shakespeare-wordle

Sonnet 46

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,
A closet never pierc’d with crystal eyes
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
To side this title is impannelled
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;
And by their verdict is determined
The clear eye’s moiety, and the dear heart’s part:
As thus; mine eye’s due is thy outward part,
And my heart’s right, thy inward love of heart.

Shakespeare

Have fun and create your own Wordle here. The link will open in a new window. Follow the link and copy/paste your text and…voila! This is my Shakespeare contribution and I hope you enjoy it too!

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no, it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his heighth be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
   If this be error and upon me proved,
   I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
   So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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chess-art-two-lives

Image: Chesscentral.com

I believe this is a good combination: chess, poetry, art and music! I’ve started recently reading Dean’s poetry blog and glad that I’ve discovered his blog. This poem in this post, is today’s entry on his blog and I’ve really enjoyed it and thought to share it with you. If you’re a lover of poetry, make sure to visit his blog, if you don’t, you will regret it! If you don’t like poetry, then you still should visit his blog and you will immediately fall in love with his poems! I have a present for you today too, let’s call it an early Christmas present if you like, a composition by Jim Brickman. Finally, for my chess-lovers (and those who think they might become chess-lovers!) I’ve got a few games here (do check back as I have about ten more to blog in this entry!) played a few days ago in the Dresden Olympiad. This post is almost as good as “wine women and song!”:) All links will open in a new window.

Remember me to the world
And all the beautiful girls
I never kissed; if there’s one regret
That is it: that I left any lovelies’
Lips unblessed, her heart repressed

Remember me to the wind, which
Blows wherever it goes; still, or not
Any feeling does not cost, but what you
Do with it: recall I am that
Innocent, awake to only wonder told

Remember me to the sun; the heat,
The blaze, worries public or hidden,
I have had them all, unbidden: most
Of all when you see that woman or girl,
Remember me, my dear, to the blessed world

©Dean J. Baker
To read more wonderful poetry, please click
HERE to read on Dean Baker’s blog! Chess=love+poetry+music+art=chess!

Read more about Dean on his biography-link on his blog!

Over 500 poems and prose poems published since 1972 in over 130 literary publications in Canada, the USA, England, Australia, New Zealand, etc., such as Descant, Carleton Literary Review, Poetry WLU, The Prairie Journal, Freelance, Nexus, Bitterroot, Oxalis, Bogg, Aileron, RE:AL, Art Times, Pegasus, Impetus, On The Bus, and many others. More have been published in newspapers, magazines, online and in anthologies, recorded and paper.


Music: Jim Brickman: Dream comes true

Please click HERE to play through the game of Nyback from Finland vs Carlsen played in round 6, Dresden 2008.

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Carlsen

Please click HERE to play through the game of Dominguez from Cuba vs Gata Kamsky in round 6, Dresden 2008.

This game of Etienne Bacrot was played in round 7 against Sasikiran from India.

Click HERE to play through the game of Boris Gelfand from Israel vs Elexei Shirov of Spain in round 7.

Please click HERE to play through the game of one of my favourite players, Ivanchuk vs Wang of China.

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Ivanchuk

Click HERE to play through Kamsky’s game played in round 7 against Peter Leko.

Play through the game of Michael Adams against Radjabov played in round 7, Dresden.

Please click HERE to play through the game of Yelena Dembo, from Greece,  played in round 7 at the Olympiad.

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Yelena Dembo

Please click HERE to play through the game of Cheparinov in round 8, Dresden.

To play through a game of Topalov played in round 8, click on the link!
Please click HERE to play through the game of David Howell from England played in round 9.

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image: Greekchess.com..David Navara

Please click here to play through the game of David Navara played in round 9.

To play through the game of NIGEL SHORT, played in round 9, click on the link!

Image: chessbase..Nigel Short

Please click HERE to play through the game of Peter Svidler played in round 9 at the Dresden Olympiad in Germany.


Samuel Bak Chess Art. See my “chess humour”- page for more chess art from Samuel and his link.

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