Ausonius Epig
AUSONIUS EPIG.
Emptis quod libris tibi bibliotheca referta est,
Doctum et grammaticum te, philomuse, putas.
Quinetiam cytharas, chordas et barbita conde:
Mercator hodie, cras citharoedus, eris.
IN ENGLISH.
Because with bought books, sir, your study's fraught,
A learned grammarian you would fain be thought;
Nay then, buy lutes and strings; so you may play
The merchant now, the fidler, the next day.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Ausonius Lib. I. Epig.
AUSONIUS LIB. I. EPIG.
Thesauro invento qui limina mortis inibat,
Liquit ovans laqueum, quo periturus erat;
At qui, quod terrae abdiderat, non repperit aurum,
Quem laqueum invenit nexuit, et periit.
ENGLISHED.
A treasure found one, entring at death's gate,
Triumphing leaves that cord, was meant his fate;
But he the gold missing, which he did hide,
The halter which he found he knit: so dy'd.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Cuncta Licet Cecidisse Putas Discrimina Rerum
Cuncta licet cecidisse putas discrimina rerum,
Et prius incerta nunc tibi certa manent,
Consiliis usure meis tamen aspice caute,
Subdola non fallat te dea fraude sua:
Saepe solet placido mortales fallere vultu,
Et cute sub placida tabida saepe dolent;
Ut quando secura putas et cuncta serena,
Anguis sub viridi gramine saepe latet.
Though ye suppose all jeperdys ar paste,
And all is done that ye lokyd for before,
Ware yet, I rede you, of Fortunes dowble cast,
For one fals poynt she is wont to kepe in store,
And vnder the fell oft festered is the sore:
That when ye thynke all daunger for to pas,
Ware of the lesard lyeth lurkyng in the gras.
Qd Skelton, laureat.
poem by John Skelton
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Ausonius Lib. Epig.
AUSONIUS LIB. EPIG.
Trinarii quodam currentem in littoris ora
Ante canes leporem caeruleus rapuit;
At lepus: in me omnis terrae pelagique rapina est,
Forsitan et coeli, si canis astra tenet.
ENGLISHED.
On the Sicilian strand a hare well wrought
Before the hounds was by a dog-fish caught;
Quoth she: all rape of sea and earth's on me,
Perhaps of heav'n, if there a dog-star be.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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The Sound Of Wings.....
from the bars of the cell,
i learned freedom from the body.
from the underside of the bridge,
i learned home has not a house.
from forty years of working,
i learned the bitterness of the slave.
from the political lies,
i learned that truth cant be bought.
from the books i read,
i learned to reason and question.
from the heroin needle,
i learned the value of life.
from love lost,
i learned how to love.
from doubt i learned seeking,
in seeking i found god to be more.
from the scars on my heart,
i learned to be a man.
from battles fought and lost,
i learned the need for peace.
from discrimination i learned equality,
from anger i learned forgiveness.
from the mirror i learned responsibility...
from the bars of the cell,
i learned the sound of wings!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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To study the phenomena of disease without books is to sail an uncharted sea, while to study books without patients is not to go to sea at all.
quote by William Osler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To study the phenomenon of disease without books is to sail an uncharted sea, while to study books without patients is not to go to sea at all.
quote by William Osler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solace From Strings
Tune up your strings.
Keep them tight.
Strum me a song
on this painful night.
Play, play
take my pain away.
Tune up your strings.
Let your fingers slide.
Help me forget
how I have cried.
Play, play
take my pain away.
The sound of your strings
make me weep
and as you strum
I can fall asleep.
Play, play
take my pain away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Last Show
This is the Last Show
I will ever play with you
this is the end of what you put me through
the Last Show i will ever play with you
this is the end of what we do...
I don't want fame, i don't want money
I just want to have fun again
I don't want girls, or backstage parties
I just want to feel like we're friends
I think i've learned my lesson
I think i've figured this whole thing out
this is a fine profession
but it's no fun
so i'm done
This is the Last Show
I will ever play with you
this is the end of what you put me through
the Last Show i will ever play with you
this is the end of what we do...
I never thought i would hate music
I never thought i would hate you
but every day this feels more like a job i don't even want to do
I think i've learned my lesson
I'll NEVER follow my dreams again
I wont waste any more of your time
so kiss my ass
I wont be back
This is the Last Show
I will ever play with you
this is the end of what you put me through
the Last Show i will ever play with you
this is the end of what we do...
did we do it for the money?
did we do it because we were bored?
I was better off with what i had before
and that was nothing
that was
nothing
at
all...
This is the Last Show
I will ever play with you
this is the end of what you put me through
the Last Show i will ever play with you
this is the end of what we do
this is the last song
this is the last line...goodbye.
song performed by by Reel Big Fish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My English Teacher
At the grade three
A new teacher came
Around her table
A queue we were all in
Having exercise books on our hands
To get written our names on it
Twining with aroma of her perfume
Let the mind not go back to the bench
My English teacher
Not like other teachers
Wearing new dresses
Pleasant smile with snazzy
I bought a double rule book
To write proper English letters
Putting the alphabet of base
Following day had a message
No more with us
Principle's words
Teacher came to us
We cried a lot
"Why may teacher you go leaving us'
'Is our school not good'
While worshiping on her feet
Without an answer
Looking at us
Touched our heads
She got a transfer
Because of our remote dry school
Since then on
Until primary end
Without an English teacher
My texts books were new
She doesn't know me for sure
Placed an aroma still in my mind
You wrote that name of mine
I am writing today.
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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The Guitarist
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
Sealed in its case
Taking up space
I use a pick to play
The guitar, everyday
Playing a chord
Only when I'm bored
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
Its base is wood
Its strings are not
When you cannot play
There is nothing to flaunt
Before you play
Tune the sound
Strum on and on
Until a rhythm is found
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
I
I have nothing to say
No light to use
No music to play
I'm idle
For I have
No guitar to play
poem by Pete Rivera
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Tomb of the Grammarian Lysias
In the Beirut library, just to the right as you go in,
we buried wise Lysias, the grammarian.
The spot is beautifully chosen.
We put him near those things of his
that he remembers maybe even there:
notes, texts, commentaries, variants,
voluminous studies of Greek idioms.
Also, this way, as we go to the books,
we'll see, we'll honour his tomb.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Onn Oure Ladies Chyrche
AS onn a hylle one eve sittynge,
At oure Ladie's Chyrche mouche wonderynge,
The counynge handieworke so fyne,
Han well nighe dazeled mine eyne;
Quod I; some counynge fairie hande
Yreer'd this chapelle in this lande;
Full well I wote so fine a syghte
Was ne yreer'd of mortall wighte.
Quod Trouthe; thou lackest knowlachynge;
Thou forsoth ne wotteth of the thynge.
A Rev'rend Fadre, William Canynge hight,
Yreered uppe this chapelle brighte;
And eke another in the Towne,
Where glassie bubblynge Trymme doth roun.
Quod I; ne doubte for all he's given
His sowle will certes goe to heaven.
Yea, quod Trouthe; than goe thou home,
And see thou doe as hee hath donne.
Quod I; I doubt; that can ne bee;
I have ne gotten markes three.
Quod Trouthe; as thou hast got, give almes-dedes soe;
Canynges and Gaunts culde doe ne moe.
poem by Thomas Chatterton
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The Grave of the Grammarian Lysias
Very close to you, as you enter on the right, in the Beirut
library, we buried the sage Lysias,
the grammarian. The spot is beautifully right.
We placed him near those things of his that he perhaps
remembers even there -- scholia, texts, grammars,
scriptures, numerous commentaries in tomes on hellenisms.
This way, his grave will also be seen and honored
by us, when we pass among the books.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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There are two methods for the literary study of any book - the first being the study of its thought and emotion; the second only that of its workmanship. A student of literature should study some of the Bible from both points of view.
quote by Lafcadio Hearn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The oil merchant handles gold and diamonds; the grain merchant does business with silver, but the wine merchant is a poor man.
~^^^~Kanji trouble~^^^~
Heavy stones
Still push my brain
It is crashed,
smashed
With every
stroke
Of Kanji
characters.
My eyes
tries
Hard to read
What they recon'
but doesn't understand
this kanji
I've just learned
I understand
But other,
only half of it
Between, easy:
children's read,
Hiragana
Katagana
Oh I'm so glad to meet.
? ? ? ? ? ? !
Heavy stones
Push less my brain
Would I get rid of pain
With every new learned
Kanji character?
*? ? ? ? ? ? ! =study study study!
poem by Elena Sandu
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Idem Latine Redditum
Heu inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma,
Quam raro pulchrae, pulchra placere potest!
Sed fines ultrà solitos discordia tendit,
Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent.
Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recessûs,
Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas,
Hic sibi regales Amaryllis candida cultûs,
Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa.
Ira Rosam et meritis quæsita superbia tangunt,
Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinû,
Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina vatûm,
Iusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat.
Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat,
Ceu flores inter non habitura parem,
Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usûs,
Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat.
Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixæ,
Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes.
Deliciasque suas nunquam non prompta tueri,
Dum licet et locus est, ut tueatur, adest.
Et tibi forma datur procerior omnibus, inquit,
Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color,
Et donec vincat quædam formosior ambas,
Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi.
His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham
Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit;
Hanc penes imperium est, nihil optant amplius, hujus
Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis.
poem by William Cowper
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The fate of possession
He cherished holding books.
He bought them to read and hold.
He breathed his last with the faith
That the books would get a fair deal.
The books were sold by weight.
With no eyes, his soul didn’t weep.
31.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The thought in my mind was that I must be a good merchant. If I were a good merchant, the rest would probably take care of itself.
quote by James Cash Penney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Sarah-Bernhardt Theatre
Nothing that man's creative mind hath wrought
Is wholly foreign to the mind of man:
He looks before and after; in his span
Of life infinities of life are caught,—
Brooding, mysterious, and travail-fraught,—
And near and distant answer, as they can,
Enkindled at the flame Promethean
Of world-embracing, heaven-illumined Thought!
Last night a woman played in Paris here
The rôle of Hamlet, each distinctive grace,
By genius all-subduing and sublime,
Made native in an alien land and time,—
As though she, listening with accustomed ear,
Had learned of English Shakespeare, face to face!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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