Hej Gamle Man
Han str ptorget varje dag
En vnlig gammal man
Hans hr r lite grnat
Under mssans rda band
Med blanka knappor I sin rock
Och bssan I sin hand
Han vet nog ganska vl
Vad vi vill frga om ibland
Hej gamla man!
Kan du visa oss den vg som vi ska gfr at fkomma dit som vi vill n
Hej gamla man!
Kanske r det vi som gr ngot fel nddu har ju allt som vi har svrt att f
Han verkar kanske trtt ibland
Vem skulle vl rmed
Att lysa upp en vg fr ngon
Som aldrig kunnat se
Men trots att han har stott dr nu
I alla dessa r
Sverkar det phonom som har kommit dit igr
Hej gamle man!
Kan du visa oss den vg som vi ska gfr at fkomma dit som vi vill n
Hej gamle man!
Kanske r det vi som gr ngot fel nddu har ju allt som vi har svrt att f
Hej gamla man!
Kan du visa oss den vg som vi ska gfr at fkomma dit som vi vill n
Hej gamla man!
Kanske r det vi som gr ngot fel nddu har ju allt som vi har svrt att f
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Det Står En Stuga Någonstans i Skogen
Det står en stuga någonstans i skogen
Vem fan valde att bo där?
Dagarna fördrivs genom att vänta på besök
Och tala med träd
Men ingen någonsin kommer
Och träden svarar inte tillbaka.
Fåglarna skiter på ditt hus, gamle man,
Ingen vill ha dig här
Ingen vill ens se dig
För du är ful som fan
Starksprit, det är din inbillade vän
Men att supa tar dig inte härifrån
Är man dum och bor i den öde skogen
I en depressiv jävla koja…
För fan karl, ta ditt liv!
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ah, Vilka Tider
h, vilka tider!
Paradiset hgrar
Du fr kalla det fantasier
Men nog r det en drm man minns
Drmde en drm, jag minns och jag knner
Vatten blev vin ovh fiender vnner
Mmm, det var hrlight att leva
Allting var fritt s vem skulle sakna
Ngonting d? Nej, paradis, nakna
Var vi som Adam och Eva
h, vilka tider!
Underbara dagar
Roar sig kungligt, mr som en prins
Njuter allt gott som finns
h, vilka tider!
Paradiset hgrar
Du fr kalla det fantasier
Men nog r det en drm man minns
Ingen var sur och ingen var dyster
Var och en var en bror och en syster
h, vad jag drde den stunden!
Skatan, han gol och gken, han skratta'
Ingenting var som det r, kan du fatta?
Vi var i paradislunden
h, vilka tider!
Underbara dagar
Roar sig kungligt, mr som en prins
Njuter allt gott som finns
h, vilka tider!
Paradiset hgrar
Du fr kalla det fantasier
Men nog r det en drm man minns
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mine Katrine
You vouldn't dink mine frau If you shust look at her now, Vhere der wrinkles on her prow
Long haf been,
Vas der frdulein blump und fair, Mit der wafy flaxen hair, Who did vonce mine heart enshnare—
Mine Katrine.
Der dime seems shord to me Since ve game acrosd der sea, To der gountry off der free Ve'd neffer seen;
Bud ve hear der beople say Dhere vas vork und blendy bay, So I shtarted righdt avay Mit Katrine.
Oh, der shoy dot filled mine house Vhen dot goot oldt Toctor Krauss Brought us "Leedle Yawcob Strauss,"
Shveet und clean; Vhy, I don'd pelief mine eyes Vhen I look, now, mit surbrise, On dot feller, shust der size
Off Katrine!
Den "dot leedle babe off mine," He vas grown so tall und fine— Shust so sdrait as any pine You effer seen,
Und der beoples all agree Sooch fine poys dhey neffer see. (Dhey looks much more like ine As Katrine.)
Veil, ve haf our criefs und shoys, Und dhere's naught our lofe destroys, Budt I miss dhose leedle poys
Dot used to been; Und der tears vill somedime sdart, Und I feels so sick at heart, Vhen I dinks I soon must part
From Katrine.
Oldt Time vill soon pe here, Mit his sickle und his shpear, Und vill vhisper in mine ear Mit sober mien:
" You must cooin along mit me, For id vas der Lord's decree; Und von day dhose poys you'll see Und Katrine."
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Minnet Av En Sten
I mörkret står en sten
Och tänker tankar om tystnad och tomhet
Och drömmer om färgen grå
Bevuxen av dysterhet
Står stenen evigt kvar
Bland sorgsna djur som skiter och dör
Och medan träden faller omkull
Och allt tar självmord
Står stenen evigt kvar
Och tänker sina tankar av sten
Och drömmer om färgen grå
Mossa...
Vinden biter och gnagar
Jorden vrider sig i smärta
Likt fläsket i pannan allt förtärs
Står stenen evigt kvar?
Och sorgsen i ensamhet drömmer
Om död, och liv och färgen grå?
poem by Skurtfan Kebnekaizer vocalist
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kaiser and Co. Or Hoch der Kaiser
[Being Wilhelm der Grosser's estimate of himself and partner, translated from the original Hoch-deutsch.]
Der Kaiser auf der Vaterland
Und Gott on high all dings gommand,
Ve two! Ach! don'd you understandt?
Meinself -- und Gott.
He reigns in Heafen, und always shall,
Und mein own Embire don'd vas small;
Ein noble bair, I dink you call
Meinself -- und Gott.
While some men sing der power divine,
Mein soldiers sing der "Wacht am Rhein,"
Und drink der healt in Rhenish wein,
Auf me -- und Gott.
Dere's France dot swaggers all aroundt,
She ausgespieldt -- she's no aggoundt,
To mooch ve dinks she don't amoundt:
Meinself -- und Gott.
She vill not dare to fight again,
But if she should, I'll show her blain
Dot Elsass und (in French) Lorraine
Are Mein -- und Gott's.
Von Bismarck was a man auf might,
Und dought he vas glean oud auf sight,
But ach! he vas nicht goot to fight
Mit me -- und Gott.
Ve knock him like ein man auf sdraw,
Ve let him know whose vill vas law,
Und dot ve don'd vould sdandt his jaw,
Meinself -- und Got.
Ve send him oudt in big disgrace,
Ve gif him insuldt to his face,
Und put Caprivi in his place,
Meinself -- und Gott.
Und ven Caprivi get svelled headt,
Ve very brombtly on him set,
Und toldt him to get vp and get --
Meinself -- und Gott.
Dere's Grandma dinks she's nicht shmall beer,
Mit Boers und dings she interfere;
She'll learn none runs dis hemisphere
But Me -- und Gott.
She dinks, goot frau, some ships she's got,
Und soldiers mit der sgarlet coat,
Ach! ve could knock dem -- pouf! like dot,
Meinself -- und Gott.
Dey say dat badly fooled I vas
At Betersburg by Nicholas,
Und dat I act shust like ein ass
Und dupe, Herr Gott.
Vell, maybe yah und maybe nein,
Und maybe Czar mit France gombine
To take dem lands about der Rhein
From me -- und Gott.
But dey may try dot leedle game,
Und make der breaks; but all der same,
Dey only vill increase der fame
Auf me -- und Gott.
In dimes auf beace, brebared for wars
I bear der helm and sbear auf Mars,
Und care nicht for ten dousand Czars,
Meinself -- und Gott.
In short, I humour efery whim,
Mit aspect dark and visage grim,
Gott pulls mit me und I mit Him --
Meinself -- und Gott.
poem by Alexander MacGregor Rose
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gamle Gunhild fra Barselstuen
Gamle Gunhild fra „Barselstuen,"
Boer paa fjerde Sal hos Fruen
Omme i Sanct Gertrudsstræde,
Dit Besøg vil hende glæde;
Hun kan Fremtids Syn Dig skaffe,
Hun kan spaae i Kaart og Kaffe,
Hun er klog, det gamle Skarn,
Jeg er hendes Barnebarn.
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hans and Fritz
Hans and Fritz were two Deutschers who lived side by side,
Remote from the world, its deceit and its pride:
With their pretzels and beer the spare moments were spent,
And the fruits of their labor were peace and content.
Hans purchased a horse of a neighbor one day,
And, lacking a part of the Geld, — as they say, —
Made a call upon Fritz to solicit a loan
To help him to pay for his beautiful roan.
Fritz kindly consented the money to lend,
And gave the required amount to his friend;
Remarking,—his own simple language to quote,—
"Berhaps it vas bedder ve make us a note."
The note was drawn up in their primitive way, —
"I, Hans, gets from Fritz feefty tollars to-day;"
When the question arose, the note being made,
"Vich von holds dot baper until it vas baid?"
"You geeps dot," says Fritz, "und den you vill know
You owes me dot money." Says Hans, "Dot ish so:
Dot makes me remempers I haf dot to bay,
Und I prings you der note und der money some day."
A month had expired, when Hans, as agreed,
Paid back the amount, and from debt he was freed.
Says Fritz, " Now dot settles us." Hans replies,
"Yaw: Now who dakes dot baper accordings by law ?"
"I geeps dot now, aind't it?" says Fritz ; " den, you see,
I alvays remempers you baid dot to me."
Says Hans, "Dot ish so: it vas now shust so blain,
Dot I knows vot to do ven I porrows again."
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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At Moonrise And Onwards
I thought you a fire
On Heron-Plantation Hill,
Dealing out mischief the most dire
To the chattels of men of hire
There in their vill.
But by and by
You turned a yellow-green,
Like a large glow-worm in the sky;
And then I could descry
Your mood and mien.
How well I know
Your furtive feminine shape!
As if reluctantly you show
You nude of cloud, and but by favour throw
Aside its drape . . .
-How many a year
Have you kept pace with me,
Wan Woman of the waste up there,
Behind a hedge, or the bare
Bough of a tree!
No novelty are you,
O Lady of all my time,
Veering unbid into my view
Whether I near Death's mew,
Or Life's top cyme!
poem by Thomas Hardy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Friskt skyder Hverdagslivet sine Ranker
Friskt skyder Hverdagslivet sine Ranker,
Og Blomst og Torne voxe frem deri;
Men aldrig ganske døer i vore Tanker
Den kjendte, gamle Barndoms-Melodi;
Den gaaer og kommer under Toners Vrimmel,
Og Hjertet drømmer om sin Barndoms Himmel.
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Til H. S. [Hvor kjær Du er mig, har Du vel forstaaet]
Hvor kjær Du er mig, har Du vel forstaaet;
For Faa jeg led og følte som for Dig!
Du til din Lykkes første Maal er naaet,
Og der — hvor kan Du sørge da med mig!
Det skal Du heller ei, — men det mig qvæged,
Ifald jeg saae, at Du forstod mit Savn.
To Dage sad jeg ene, dybt bevæget,
Tidt paa min Læbe kom dit kjære Navn;
Men ei Du kom! Mig Ingen kjærligt mødte,
Mig selv og Gud jeg slap i denne Nød,
Stærkt alle gamle, skjulte Vunder blødte,
Selv af dit Venskabs-Kys Bloddraaber flød.
O, gid Du aldrig prøve, aldrig vide,
Hvad Den, som Ingen eier her, kan lide.
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Week
On Monday night I closed my door,
And thought you were not as heretofore,
And little cared if we met no more.
I seemed on Tuesday night to trace
Something beyond mere commonplace
In your ideas, and heart, and face.
On Wednesday I did not opine
Your life would ever be one with mine,
Though if it were we should well combine.
On Thursday noon I liked you well,
And fondly felt that we must dwell
Not far apart, whatever befell.
On Friday it was with a thrill
In gazing towards your distant vill
I owned you were my dear one still.
I saw you wholly to my mind
On Saturday - even one who shrined
All that was best of womankind.
As wing-clipt sea-gull for the sea
On Sunday night I longed for thee,
Without whom life were waste to me!
poem by Thomas Hardy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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tourism ***** NEW YORK
Guess where am I
I can't imagine
i've gone through
this far
without approved visa in hand
coincidentally
i am here
hunting local employment
in New York St.
Cubao
QC Phls.
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indskrift paa Rammen
Indskrift paa Rammen
om et Maleri, forestillende den engelske Minister Sir Henry Wynns Landsted i Sjælland, givet ham af danske Veninder
Dit danske Sommerhjem ved Skov og Strand
Skal følge Dig til gamle Engelland
Med Hilsener fra trofaste Veninder.
Hver Gang Du seer det gjennem alle Aar,
Dansk Sommertid Dig gjennem Hjertet gaaer.
— Der er en Skat i kjære, gamle Minder!
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Without Visa
I am the archaeologist of laughter when it comes to wisdom,
And my home is the sweet paradise without visa;
Come and feel the aroma around and the metamorphosis that it brings.
Of tales, trends, tips and trivial matters;
And of an ecological clock wirth the beauty of my mind,
But try to step out of the pages of history with the graphics around.
Educate men without religion and,
You will make them clever devils!
But unique in style is the wisdom of the laughter that i bring.
The schools teach the means of education but not education itself,
For all the eyes do have it!
But if you wake up and quarrel everyday,
You are saying your prayers to the Devil.
It is like a curious world of visions,
But Adam and Eve were created in their nakedness;
And i will be 2000 miles away towards heaven when you look for me.
There is nothing much greater than honour received among your peers,
For i am the archaeologist of laughter!
And my home is the sweet paradise without visa.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It has been said that a pretty face is a passport. But it's not, it's a visa, and it runs out fast.
quote by Julie Burchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We believe that visa quotas should be lifted and people should visit anywhere they wish freely.
quote by Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In a turning point for humanity, Columbus received a visa to America.
aphorism by Octav Bibere
Submitted by Octav Bibere
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Dot Baby Off Mine
Mine cracious! mine cracious! shust look here und see
A Deutscher so habby as habby can pe!
Der beoples all dink dot no prains I haf got;
Vas grazy mit trinking, or someding like dot:
Id vasn't pecause I trinks lager und vine;
Id vas all on aggount off dot baby off mine.
Dot schmall leedlc vellow I dells you vas qveer;
Not mooch pigger roundt as a goot glass off peer;
Mit a bare-footed hed, und nose but a schpeck;
A mout dot goes most to der pack off his neck;
Und his leedle pink toes mit der rest all combine
To gif sooch a charm to dot baby off mine.
I dells you dot baby vas von off der poys,
Und beats leedle Yawcob for making a noise.
He shust has pecun to shbeak goot English too;
Says " Mamma" und " Papa," und somedimes "Ah, goo!"
You don'd find a baby den dimes oudt off nine
Dot vas qvite so schmart as dot baby off mine.
He grawls der vloor ofer, und drows dings aboudt,
Und poots eferyding he can find in his mout;
He dumbles der shtairs down, und falls vrom his chair,
Und gifes mine Katrina von derrible sckare.
Mine hair shtands like shquills on a mat borcubine
Ven I dinks off dose pranks off dot baby off mine.
Dere vas someding, you pet, I don'd likes pooty vell,
To hear in der nighdt dimes dot young Deutscher yell,
Und dravel der ped-room midout many clo'es,
Vhile der chills down der shpine off mine pack quickly goes:
Does leedle shimnasdic dricks vasn't so fine
Dot I cuts oup at nighdt mit dot baby off mine.
Vell, dese leedle schafers vas going to pe men,
Und all off dese droubles vill peen ofer den:
Dey vill vear a vhite shirt-vront inshtead off a bib,
Und vouldn't got tucked oup at nighdt in deir crib.
Vell, vell, ven I'm feeble, und in life's decline,
May mine oldt age pe cheered py dot baby off mine!
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Placing a Wor[l]d Poetic 1795
Perhaps priority accorded place
Links into a reaction counter fate,
Arkansas may not be the ideal state.
Country or city zen no interface
Influential need for state of grace,
Nor may imagination leap life's gate
Gaining insight handed on a plate
As if one vista offered true creative base.
Why should one town crown inspiration ace?
Ozark spark stamp unique, supreme, dictate.
Revelation elsewhere absent, sate?
Light travels far on insight's wings to case
Dell, valley, vill, spire, joint inspiring write
Poetic which depends on second sight!
(29 July 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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