Dorothea Mackellar

1 lipca 1885 roku, a więc 132 lata temu urodziła się australijska poetka i pisarka Dorothea Mackellar, autorka czterech tomików pezji i trzech powieści. Była córką lekarza, którego przyodkowie przybyli do Australii ze Szkocji. 
Dorothea nie uczęszczała do szkoły. Jej edukację, zanim wstąpiła na uniwersytet, planowali i organizowali rodzice, którzy zatrudniali prywatnych nauczycieli.Uczyła sie malarstwa, szermierki i języków obcych, świetnie jeździła konno.
 Podczas licznych podróży zagranicznych odwiedzała muzea i galerie sztuki, poznawała kulturę różnych krajów .Władała biegle kilkoma językami. Czasami jako tłumaczka towarzyszyła w podróżach ojcu.
Podczas pobytu w Anglii, pod wpływem tęsknoty za krajem napisała wiersz My Country, który przyniósł jej sławę. Miała wtedy 19 lat.

Wiersz składa się z sześciu zwrotek, ale najczęściej cytowana jest zwrotka druga zaczynająca się od słów " I love a sunburnt country" - " Kocham ten spalony słońcem kraj..."https://allpoetry.com/poem/8526595-My-Country-by-Dorothea-Mackellar
My Country (I love a sunburnt country)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8ntiVQnuVo

Wild Strawberries

Strawberries that in gardens grow
   Are plump and juicy fine,
But sweeter far as wise men know
   Spring from the woodland vine.

No need for bowl or silver spoon,
   Sugar or spice or cream,
Has the wild berry plucked in June
   Beside the trickling stream. ( ....) by Robert Graves (1895 - 1985)
Read more:
http://allpoetry.com/Wild-Strawberries

The End Of March.

 It was cold and windy, scarcely the day 
to take a walk on that long beach 
Everything was withdrawn as far as possible, 
indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean shrunken, 
seabirds in ones or twos. 
The rackety, icy, offshore wind 
numbed our faces on one side; 
disrupted the formation 
of a lone flight of Canada geese; 
and blew back the low, inaudible rollers 
in upright, steely mist.(.......)
by Elizabeth Bishop, an American poet

SPRING IS COMING !

Spring is coming—   

Soon to arrive.
Fowls to their nests
And bees to their hives.
Birds serenading
With their odes.
Caterpillars. 
And loads of toads.
Twirling butterflies.
Flowers in bloom.
The sun will return.
Spring’s coming soon.
by Walterrean Salley - an American poet, songwriter and visual artist

fowls - ptactwo (także drób);
hives - ule; 
twirl - kręcić się, zakręcać, wirowanie,zakrętas; 
caterpillars - gąsienice;
loads - masa
toads -ropuchy;
bloom - kwiat, rozkiwit, barwa, kwitnąć, wykwitać, rozkwitać, kwiecić.

DARK DECEMBER...

" When dark December glooms the day,
And takes our autumn joys away...."
Sir Walter Scott ( " Marmion" 1808)

gloom - mrok, ciemność, przygnębienie, posępność, ponury nastrój, zasnuć się, sponurzeć

November comes.

"November comes
And November goes,

With the last red berries
And the first white snows.

With night coming early,
And dawn coming late,
And ice in the bucket
And frost by the gate.

The fires burn
And the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest
Until next spring."
-  Elizabeth Coatsworth
 (American poet and writer 1893-1986)

Dziś przypomniałam sobie wiersz Williama Blake'a  (1757 - 1827) o chorej róży.
Różo ! Tyś chora!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Brw2HvodBiY

The Sick Rose

BY WILLIAM BLAKE

O Rose thou art sick. 

The invisible worm, 

That flies in the night 

In the howling storm: 

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy:

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.

Tłumaczenie : http://literatura.wywrota.pl/wiersz-klasyka/24033-william-blake-chora-roza.html

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

7 maja 1861 roku, w Kalkucie urodził się Rabindranath TAGORE - indyjski poeta, pisarz, filozof.
W 1913 r. otrzymał Nagrodę Nobla w dziedzinie literatury. Sam tłumaczył swoje utwory na angielski lub zlecał tłumaczenie krewnym.

ENDLESS TIME

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. 

There is none to count thy minutes. 

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. 

Thou knowest how to wait. 

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower. 

We have no time to lose, 

and having no time we must scramble for a chance. 

We are too poor to be late. 

And thus it is that time goes by 

while I give it to every querulous man who claims it, 

and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last. 

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut; 

but I find that yet there is time. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cs-TJK8lwwY

May!

                                                                                    "A swarm of bees in May      

Is worth a load of hay; 

A swarm of bees in June 

Is worth a silver spoon; 

A swarm of bees in July 

Is not worth a fly." 

-  Rhyme from England

April

"The sun was warm but the wind was chill.

You know how it is with an April day.

When the sun is out and the wind is still,

You're one month on in the middle of May.

But if you so much as dare to speak,

a cloud come over the sunlit arch,

And wind comes off a frozen peak,

And you're two months back in the middle of March."

-  Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time, 1926  

A Light Exists in Spring by Emily Dickinson

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJqJdyn_69o

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period --
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay --

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/a-light-exists-in-spring-by-emily-dickinson#ixzz3V2oxJQHS
Family Friend Poems 

MARCH WEATHER

      MARCH WEATHER 

 Wind in pines 

 wind on water 

 wind in rushes 

 wind on feather 

 Sun in leaves 

 sun on loch 

 sun in reeds 

 sun on duck 

 Rain in trees 

 rain on river 

 rain in moss 

 rain on eider 

 All in one morning 

 all together 

 in an hour 

 March weather 

by Tessa Ransford
http://www.wisdomfield.com/biograph.html

One Perfect Rose.

                                     One Perfect Rose

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met,

All tenderly his messenger he chose;

Deep-hearted pure, with scented dew still wet
 -One perfect rose.

I know the language of the floweret.

“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”

Love long has taken for his amulet

One perfect rose.

                     Why is it no one ever sent yet 

                                                              One perfect limousine, do you suppose?

                                                         Ah no, it's always just my luck to get

                                                          One perfect rose.

                                                       Dorothy Parker ( 1893-1967,

 an American poet)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efESfMSJIf8

February Song

                                         Where has that old friend gone

Lost in a February song

Tell him it won't be long

Til he opens his eyes, opens his eyes

Where is that simple day

Before colors broke into shades

And how did I ever fade

Into this life, into this life....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=un6Pd7vLW3c

Love and a cough...

Miłość i kaszel zataić trudno....

"As it has been said:

Love and a cough

cannot be concealed.

Even a small cough.

Even a small love.”   

- Anne Sexton - an American poet   (1928-1974)

A NEW YEAR.

“A New Year has tiptoed in.
Let’s go forward to meet it.
Let’s welcome the 365 days it brings.
Let’s live well with love in our hearts towards God and all people.
Let’s walk through it’s corridors with praise songs on our lips.”

Anusha Atukorala

First days of winter.

Wczoraj był pierwszy dzień zimy, o ile ktoś z Was to zauważył. Na razie możemy oglądać śnieg na obrazkach i słuchać zimowych piosenek.

"Winter Song"

The Wind is freezin all around

Dirty snow keeps falling down

I'm still here and you are gone

The city is cold and winter has come

Ooh gone ooh gone all winter long

Ooh gone ooh gone all winter long

I'm running down the icey streets

Trying to catch the last?(....)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AJP-Zd42Ls

I heard a bird sing.

"I heard a bird sing

In the dark of December

A magical thing

And sweet to remember.

'We are nearer to Spring

Than we were in September,'

I heard a bird sing

In the dark of December."

-   Oliver Herford, I Heard a Bird Sing

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MW13fT8lav4

Oliver Herford (1863–1935) was a British born American writer, artist and illustrator who has been called "The American Oscar Wilde".