translation ( ....I hope lol)THE AGM OF THE WEWAK SHARE TRADING CLUB
noi, spot on m8, lolworse of all is to explain the story
think i'll go back to a bit more snoring.
noi, Lol - who's to say you or I aren't from the other side ?
naaa - although I prefer "brown bread" to white, it's not worth dying for
- and for now, I'm off to work or I'm "toast". adios amigos
The Slave's Dream
Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode;
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;
They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
They held him by the hand!--
A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
Smiting his stallion's flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
From morn till night he followed their flight,
O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
Beside some hidden stream;
And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Shouted of liberty;
And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.
He did not feel the driver's whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
And his lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!
then again m8, what is a businessman -The Poet
Cannot handle “yes-no” questions
Has great difficulty interpreting proverbs
J'ai du succes dans mes affaires, J'ai du succes dans mes amours , Je change souvent de secretaire
I'm doing well in my business, I'm doing well in my love affairs, I change secretary often
J'ai mon bureau en haut d'une tour, D'ou je vois la ville a l'envers, D'ou je controle mon univers
I have my office on top of a tower, From where I see the town upside down, From where I control my universe
J'passe la moitie d'ma vie en l'air, Entre New York et Singapour, Je voyage toujours en premiere
I spend half my life in the air, Between New York and Singapore, I always travel in first (class)
J'ai ma residence secondairem, Dans tous les Hilton de la terre, J'peux pas supporter la misere
I have my second home, In all the Hilton's on Earth, I can't accept misery
J'suis pas heureux mais j'en ai l'air, J'ai perdu le sens de l'humour, Depuis que j'ai le sens des affaires
I'm not happy, but I look like I am, I lost humour sense, Since I got the business sense
J'ai reussi et j'en suis fier, Au fond je n'ai qu'un seul regret, J'fais pas c'que j'aurais voulu faire
I succeeded and I'm proud of it, In fact I have only one regret, It's not what I wanted to do
J'aurais voulu etre un artiste, Pour pouvoir faire mon numero, Quand l'avion se pose sur la piste
A Rotterdam ou a Rio, J'aurais voulu etre un chanteur, Pour pouvoir crier qui je suis
J'aurais voulu etre un auteur, Pour pouvoir inventer ma vie
I wanted to be an artist, To be able to do my show, When the airplane touches the ground
In Rotterdam or Rio, I wanted to be a singer, To be able to shout who I am
I wanted to be an author, To be able to create my life
J'aurais voulu etre un acteur, Pour tous les jours changer de peau Et pour pouvoir me trouver beau, Sur un grand ecran en couleurs
I wanted to be an actor, So every day I would change my skin And to find myself beautifull, On a big color screen
J'aurais voulu etre un artiste, Pour pouvoir etre un anachiste, Et vivre comme, un millionnaire
I wanted to be an artist, To be able to be an anarchist, And live like a millionaire
J'aurais voulu etre un artiste, Pour avoir le monde a refaire, Pour pouvoir dire pourquoi j'existe
I wanted to be an artiste, To have the world to do again, To be able to tell ....
.................................... why I exist
There is a song by Ray Stevens called Mr Businessman and it lyrics are so true of the hectic lifestyle many of us lead today. It goes like this:
Itemize the things you covet
As you squander through your life
Bigger cars, bigger houses
Term insurance for your wife
Tuesday evenings with your harlot
And on Wednesdays it's your charlatan
analyst, he's high upon your list
You've got air conditioned sinuses
And dark disturbing doubts about religion
And you keep those cards and letters going out
While your secretary's tempting you
Your morals are exempting you from guilt and shame
Heaven knows you're not to blame
Did you see your children growing up today
And did you hear the music of their laughter
As they set about to play
Did you catch the fragrance of those roses in your garden
Did the morning sunlight warm your soul,
Brighten up your day
Do you qualify to be alive
or is the limit of your senses so as only to survive
Hey yeah.....
Spending counterfeit incentive
Wasting precious time and health
Placing value on the worthless
Disregarding priceless wealth
You can wheel and deal the best of them
And steal it from the rest of them
You know the score, their ethics are a bore
Eighty-six anesthetic crutches prop you to the top
Where the smiles are all synthetic
And the ulcers never stop
When they take that final inventory,
Yours will be the same sad story everywhere
No one will really care, no one more lonely than
This rich important man, let's have your autograph
Endorse your epitaph
Does not understand what he reads
....May recognize a word one day and not the next
riposte :- In fencing, the riposte (french for retort) is an offensive action made by the fencer who has just parried an attack.
Explanation
In sabre and foil, the priority switches when the parry is successfully executed; the defending fencer now has right of way and may immediately attack with a riposte. The riposte may be direct, or may include compound footwork. If the riposte is delayed, the original attacker's remise gains priority.
When one sets up a second intention attack, the reactions of one's opponent must be predicted. A fencer may execute an attack expecting to be parried, preparing to counter-parry and counter-riposte.
In everyday language, a riposte describes a quick and witty reply to an argument or an insult. It is synonymous with a retort or report.
drill, you're probaly right
Its hard to make some sense of it , especially set to verse
You try defining poets you just make em ten times worse
The poet will get stuck in corners every time he paints
The rest of us are logical - and rational - and saints
OKKER AUTONOMY (call it an Easter message of peace if you prefer )
There’s a little fledgling nation, call it Oz, or “Okkerland”
While sitting at Eureka said “c’mon ! let’s make a stand!”,
Since then has made pretensions to the truth and the UN,
And so gained its autonomy on what to do and when.
Autonomous young nation, you’ll be judged in years to come,
Please “filter” all “sensation” and don’t follow causes dumb,
Don’t charge into mass lynchings, where young angels fear to tread,
There’s such a thing as “walk beside” much preferable to “lead”.
Autonomy, umBilicals are long since naval floss,
Be anything you wanna be, but YOU’re your moral boss,
Don’t follow Uncle Sam so blind – he’ll lead you up some creek,
His brightest talent talons, and that razor eagle beak.
His Peace Corps boys around the world make friends for life it seems ,
And meet old friends on islands, and they smile at long held dreams,
They shake the hands of kindred souls they taught at some bark school - ….
Don’t “stuff it up” with warlike goals, because of some blind fool.
The history of Uncle Sam as all good Texans know
Means “equal justice for the lamb went out with Alamo”
Those Mexicans who fought it had no right to be out there,
And Davey Crockett bought it, and his motives pure and fair.
Don’t follow him so readily boy, he likes to play with death,
Some “four-year king” with deadly toys – makes choir boy of Macbeth,
Unless you win some hearts and minds, you’ll never win that goal,
That makes your land a noble place, and gives your nation soul.
Be careful of your Uncle boy he preaches like a monk
He loves to taunt like Dirty Harry “Feelin lucky, punk?”
He has such simple ethics, he can make it up each day -
“Don’t do that which we do, you all, just do that which we say!”.
Be careful of your Uncle boy he’s just a little wild
His birth and youth the tantrums of a civil warring child
Where strength was proven without doubt to emanate from guns
And carpet baggers laughing at “red-badge-of-courage” sons.
He learnt the law of “might is right” and jaundiced record books
Those written by the victors, “how we beat those wimpish sooks”
He’s lost all sense of moral cause, he’s now his own worst foe
And pity help some “Mouse that Roars” at modern GI Joe.
Tis only seven score year and four, that Lincoln gave his speech (1863)
He spoke of equals, principles, the stuff that teachers teach,
But how the heck can kids grow up in these uncertain times,?
We’ve traded any moral code for blood-soaked oil-soaked dimes.
I wonder what would Lincoln think if now he saw the mess
Of how we bomb the innocent, yet innocence protest.
And pity help the child that sees through any kings new clothes
Who makes predictions terrified of ugly things he loathes.
“I think therefore I’m here, I am”?, - that’s much too strong on tact!
He much prefers “I think KERBAM” He much prefers to act,
And pity help some Mouse that Roars, his sense of humour’s gone
KERBAM to you, to hell with cause, (his Xmas list is long).
A truly moral message that will resonate for years
Is not the one that booms out of a cannon near your ears
And who recalls the word of Caesar in historic mist ?
And who prefers the gentle thoughts of Buddha or the Christ?
THE STATUES OF LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FRATERNITY
why is french as french is spoken still by far the more romantic
than the language of manhattan far across a mad atantic
just as statues that proclaim the fact that "here lies liberty"
have been planned in far off Paris - but ?? - why not a set of three? !!
three spokes are what's required for an elementary wheel
as spoken by the stormers of some mad-age cruel bastille
liberty, equality, fraternity my friend
what happened to the last two? - they just forgot to send?
What happened to the statue of equality you say?
perhaps like the titanic it just sank along the way
what happened to the statue of fraternity my brother
perhaps its oceanic twin has died - and there's no other
perhaps fraternity's reserved for friends when there is killing
perhaps its coaltions that make friends eternal willing
perhaps fraternity's reserved for "buddies" and "blood brothers"
MUCH stronger than the bonds between the GI's and their mothers
it's relevant perhaps that she's "enlightening the world"
except a moral lapse or two when her fury is unfurled
beware to those she smothers - and beware to those who follow
you'll find she's killed her brothers - and you'll find her heart is hollow
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Statue_of_Liberty The statue is of a female figure standing upright, dressed in a robe and a seven point spiked rays representing a nimbus (halo), holding a stone tablet close to her body in her left hand and a flaming torch high in her right hand. The tablet bears the words "JULY IV MDCCLXXVI" (July 4, 1776), commemorating the date of the United States Declaration of Independence.
The statue is made of a sheeting of pure copper, hung on a framework of steel (originally puddled iron) with the exception of the flame of the torch, which is coated in gold leaf. It stands atop a rectangular stonework pedestal with a foundation in the shape of an irregular eleven-pointed star. The statue is 151' 1" (46.5 m) tall, with the pedestal and foundation adding another 154 feet (46.9 m).
Worldwide, the Statue of Liberty is one of the most recognizable icons of the United States,[2] and, more generally, represents liberty and escape from oppression.
THE CIRCUITOUS JOURNEY OF HOW ‘FLEXION’ GOT HIS NAME
here’s this book – here’s its name – “dic-shun-ree”
it’s the best on the whole selection
I can roam through its pages for free
I can flip to the horse naming section
strange how all my damned research (or most)
seems to end up talking of horses
like, I find this here new word “riposte” –
while I’m searching through shakespears and chaucers.
RIPOSTE
“RIPOSTE :- “in French – it’s a fencer
may include some compound footwork -
who has just parried an attack” ???
........ I continue my nose-in-the-bookwork.
so this book says its all about fences ??
“but be quick – or you’ll be “remised””
so I’m searching through all these past tenses
so my vocab can be err - revised.
REMISE
“REMISE” :- means “surrender a deed”
that’s assuming you’re in USA
but some Frenchmen (it says) disagreed
and they say that it's more about play
“it’s a second thrust made on a lunge”??
do they mean that’s a thrust “on a lounge”??
hek the missess’s mattress is sponge
(and the best lounge she’s made “out of bounds”) :twak:
so this bloke should be building a fence ??
but he’s having it off on the sofa ??
he’s either got passions intense
or the bloke’s a defenceless damned loafer!! ???
ahh – back to the book I then dives
that lead was a dead end gone bust
ahhh – I find that same word there, - "remise"
has ANOTHER damned meaning than thrust
REMISE (2).
"an expensive or high class hack-ney"
gee that’s sounding a bit more like fun
cos girls here in town all have acne -
?? a hooker that’s turned thirty one??
HACK-NEY pronounced flexion.
so I look up the meaning of “HACK-NEY”
“a horse of an English sort
-"pronounced flexion of back knee” !!!”
yESSS – and I’ll call him “flexion” for short !!
see I’ve got this here foal that needs naming
and his granpa I’m told was a Limey
and this book has been so good explaining
and I know what it means – just try me. !!
“so I now, little foal, baptise thee
without fear of bludy correction
- it’s spelt with a “hack” and a “ney”
when pronounced – in French , sounds like … “FLEXION””
riposte :- In fencing, the riposte (french for retort) is an offensive action made by the fencer who has just parried an attack.
Explanation
In sabre and foil, the priority switches when the parry is successfully executed; the defending fencer now has right of way and may immediately attack with a riposte. The riposte may be direct, or may include compound footwork. If the riposte is delayed, the original attacker's remise gains priority.
When one sets up a second intention attack, the reactions of one's opponent must be predicted. A fencer may execute an attack expecting to be parried, preparing to counter-parry and counter-riposte.
In everyday language, a riposte describes a quick and witty reply to an argument or an insult. It is synonymous with a retort or report.
remise :- noun
1. (fencing) a second thrust made on the same lunge (as when your opponent fails to riposte)
2. an expensive or high-class hackney
3. a small building for housing coaches and carriages and other vehicles [syn: coach house]
5. v. to give, grant, or release a claim to
hack•ney A horse of a breed developed in England, having a characteristic gait... pronounced flexion of the knee. 1. A trotting horse suited for routine riding or driving; a hack.
2. A coach or carriage for hire.
3. hack•neyed, tr. v. To cause to become banal and trite through overuse.
The Ballad of the Drover
Mar. — 1889 Henry Lawson
ACROSS the stony ridges, Across the rolling plain,
Young Harry Dale, the drover, Comes riding home again.
And well his stock-horse bears him, And light of heart is he,
And stoutly his old pack-horse Is trotting by his knee.
Up Queensland way with cattle He travelled regions vast;
And many months have vanished Since home-folk saw him last.
He hums a song of someone He hopes to marry soon;
And hobble-chains and camp-ware Keep jingling to the tune.
Beyond the hazy dado Against the lower skies
And yon blue line of ranges The homestead station lies.
And thitherward the drover Jogs through the lazy noon,
While hobble-chains and camp-ware Are jingling to a tune.
An hour has filled the heavens With storm-clouds inky black;
At times the lightning trickles Around the drover’s track;
But Harry pushes onward, His horses’ strength he tries,
In hope to reach the river Before the flood shall rise.
The thunder from above him Goes rolling o’er the plain;
And down on thirsty pastures In torrents falls the rain.
And every creek and gully Sends forth its little flood,
Till the river runs a banker, All stained with yellow mud.
Now Harry speaks to Rover, The best dog on the plains,
And to his hardy horses, And strokes their shaggy manes;(oh oh - he's painting a scene of fidelity here )
‘We’ve breasted bigger rivers When floods were at their height
Nor shall this gutter stop us From getting home to-night!’
The thunder growls a warning, The ghastly lightnings gleam,
As the drover turns his horses To swim the fatal stream.
But, oh! the flood runs stronger Than e’er it ran before;
The saddle-horse is failing, And only half-way o’er!
When flashes next the lightning, The flood’s grey breast is blank,
And a cattle dog and pack-horse Are struggling up the bank.
But in the lonely homestead The girl will wait in vain —
He’ll never pass the stations In charge of stock again.
The faithful dog a moment Sits panting on the bank,
And then swims through the current To where his master sank.
And round and round in circles He fights with failing strength,
Till, borne down by the waters, The old dog sinks at length.
Across the flooded lowlands And slopes of sodden loam
The pack-horse struggles onward, To take dumb tidings home.
And mud-stained, wet, and weary, Through ranges dark goes he;
While hobble-chains and tinware Are sounding eerily.
. . . . .
The floods are in the ocean, The stream is clear again,
And now a verdant carpet Is stretched across the plain.
But someone’s eyes are saddened, And someone’s heart still bleeds
In sorrow for the drover Who sleeps among the reeds.
Pour pouvoir dire pourquoi j'existe
pour poo vwar dear pour kwar jjjexist
To be able to tell why I exist
This very RARE Clip was broadcasted in 2003 live from Celines Colloseum in Las Vegas! "Sous le vent" with garou at Celines
Here's "businessman blues" sung with less (initial) volume -SOUS LE VENT
Translation: Under the Wind
And if you think I was frightened
It's not true
I'm giving vacations to my heart
Some rest
And if you think I was wrong
Wait
Breathe a little the golden blast
Which pushes me ahead
And
Do as if I took to the sea
I set the main sail
And I glided with the wind
Do as if I left the ground
I found my star
I followed it for a while
Under the wind
And if you think it's over
Never
It's just a pause, a break
After the dangers
And if you think I forget you
Listen
Open your body to the winds of the night
Close your eyes
And
Do as if I took to the sea
etc ....
And if you think it's over
Never
Under the wind
It's just a pause, a break
After the dangers
...
Do as if I took to the sea
etc ..
Under the wind
Under the wind
A stunning live performance of a wonderful French-Canadian singer showing off her magnificent stage presence and absolute vocal power. This version comes from her Zenith concert from autumn 1995
If I Had My Life to Live Over
(I would pick more daisies)
by Nadine Stair
I'd dare to make more mistakes next time.
I'd relax, i would limber up.
I would be sillier than I have been this trip
I would take fewer things seriously
I would take more chances
I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers
I would eat more ice cream and less beans
I would perhaps have more actual troubles,
but I'd have few imaginary ones
You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly
and sanely hour after hour, day after day
Oh, I've had my moments
and if I had it to do over again,
I'd have more of them
In fact, I'd try to have nothing else
Just moments, one after another,
instead of livng so many years ahead of each day
I've been one of those persons who never
goes anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, a raincoat and a parachute.
If I had to do it again,
I would travel lighter than I have
If i had my life to live over,
I would start barefoot earlier in the spring
and stay that way later in the fall
I would go to more dances,
I would ride more merry-go-rounds.
I would pick more daisies.
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