TO THESE GARDENS GAVE

'Tis she that to these gardens gave
The wondrous beauty which they have;
She straightness on the woods bestows;
To her the meadow sweetness ows;
Nothing could make the river be
So crystal pure but only she;
She yet more pure, sweet, straight, and fair,
That gardens, woods, meads, rivers, are.

Therefore what first she on them spent,
They gratefully again present:
The meadow, carpets where to tread;
The garden, flowers to crown her head;
And for a glass the limpid brook,
Where she may all her beauties look;
But, since she would not have them seen,
The wood about her draws a screen.

-Andrew Marvell

This is by far my favorite Victorian portrait... It's much more beautiful when you look at the reproduction on print, rather than on the computer screen... The light looks more golden.

TRANSLATION OF AN ITALIAN SONG

This song was in my brother's blog, andersviking.blogspot, and I thought it was well worth a translation (of sorts). If anybody can improve it, please do!!

AMORE PERDUTE

Il fiume dei ricordi,
Il greto del passato;
Sta ritornando da me
Sta rivivendo per te
Ma dove ti troverò
Se tu non vuoi?

Risento i baci su di me...
I baci tuoi
I abbraci tuoi
Gli mi bruciano ancor
Che mi fanno languir
Che mi fanno morir

Il fiume dei ricordi
Il greto del passato
Sta ritornando da me
Sta rivivendo per te
Ma dove ti troverò
Se tu non vuoi?

E il mare che ti vide lì...
Il suo calor, il suo tepor,
Tramutare vorrei
In un gelido mar
In un buio mortal.

------

The rivers of memory,
The gravel of past things;
They are coming back to me,
They are returning for you
But where do I find you,
If you won't let me?

I feel your kisses once more...
Your kisses,
Your embraces
That still burn in me,
That make me languish
That make me die.

The rivers of memory,
The gravel of past things;
They are coming back to me,
They are returning for you
But where do I find you,
If you won't let me?

And the sea, who sees you there...
Would want to change
Its heat, its warmth
Into a freezing sea,
Into a mortal sadness.

Music: Tomaso Albinoni (Adagio in G minor)
Lyrics: Carolina Martinelli
Sung by José Carreras

Musings from Monday, 16th January 2006

With my back to a dark cloudy sky, I am sitting in the Indian fashion, waiting to meet you. Each time someone comes in the door, I feel the chilly air curling around my neck, defying my warm turquoise cashmere scarf.

Today is one of those days. I feel like I need to see the sun again, not just a cold wintry sun but the splendour of the summer sun, radiant, scorching. I need to soak in its rays, I need to stretch out on the warm sand by the beach, hearing the thunder of the waves on the shore, and to close my eyes against the unbearable brilliance. I want to feel the need once more of a cool breeze refreshing my body now and then when the heat becomes overwhelming.

What is it inside of us that makes us long for light, for beauty, for balmy evenings and quiet summer mornings? What is there inside of us that trembles at a once-forgotten strain of melody? What makes tears start in our eyes when music becomes so beautiful our heart aches? When beauty touches the very heartstrings of our being, something strange and misterious, yet sublime, happens. Without knowing, our soul catches a glimpse, a taste, of what Eden must have been at its original glory, of the delicious, pure and raw beauty and pleasure we were destined for. Of the beauty we lost at the Fall, but which we still, at times, can manage to grasp for an instant... only an instant. That is the sensation that we have then of a hazy memory of some far away something we can’t begin to put into words. We cling to it, savouring it while it lasts, and then it inevitably fades and slips beyond our grasp like the edge of the sun when it slips beyond the horizon.

And yet our heart is content... it waits, until another moment like this visits it again. Because, you know, you can’t look for it. It just comes, sometimes when you least expect it.

WINTER VIOLENCE

There are things going on out there of which we are totally unaware

Honeymoon pictures...

Here are a few photos of our honeymoon, mainly ones of our day trip to the Samaná Peninsula in the Dominican Republic. Enjoy!

This is me snorkeling in Punta Cana... it does favour me, doesn't it? A little?

Ready for adventure

Ahem... we forgot the zoom was still on from the last picture

Ah, much better.

Not the best view... Woo-hoo, this horse is a little tipsy!

Trekking the jungle with my gentlemany husband lending a hand

Fording the river. Ahhhhhhh... cool water flooding my boots... feels good to tired feet

Our destination: Catarata del Limón. See how small the people are?

Heh, heh. Can't believe we paid 5 euros for this palm leaf hat... heh, heh.

Dani doing a beautiful job with the Catamarán

Eli trying to do the same and having to concentrate real hard

Getting in touch a again with civilization... a newspaper!!

THE END

Motivació - Motivation

Soneto Anónimo

No me mueve, mi Dios, para quererte
el cielo que me tienes prometido;
ni me mueve el infierno tan temido
para dejar por eso de ofenderte.

Tú me mueves, Señor; muéveme el verte
clavado en una cruz y escarnecido;
muéveme ver tu cuerpo tan herido;
muévenme tus afrentas y tu muerte.

Muéveme, en fin, tu amor, y en tal manera
que aunque no hubiera cielo, yo te amara,
y aunque no hubiera infierno, te temiera.

No tienes que me dar porque te quiera,
pues aunque cuanto espero no esperara,
lo mismo que te quiero te quisiera.

I am not moved, my God, to give you love
by thoughts of heaven that you've promised me;
nor am I moved by thoughts of dreaded hell
for that alone, to cease offending thee.

You are what moves me, Lord; I'm moved to see
you on a cross and mocked with every breath;
I'm moved to see your body racked with wounds;
I'm moved by your affronts and by your death.

I'm moved, in sum, by love from you so great
that I would love you were not heaven there,
and I would fear you, if there were no hell.

You need give me no prize to love you thus,
for even if what I hope I hoped not,
as I now love you I would love you still.

(©Alix Ingber, 1995)

God Holds the Key

God holds the key of all unknown,
And I am glad;
If other hands should hold the key,
Or if He trusted it to me,
I might be sad.

What if tomorrow’s cares were here
Without its rest?
I’d rather He unlocked the day;
And, as the hours swing open, say,
"My will is best."

The very dimness of my sight
Makes me secure;
For, groping in my misty way,
I feel His hand; I hear Him say,
“My help is sure.”

I cannot read His future plans;
But this I know;
I have the smiling of His face,
And all the refuge of His grace,
While here below.

Enough! this covers all my want,
And so I rest -
For what I cannot, He can see,
And in His care I safe shall be,
Forever blest.

Jo­seph Park­er (1830-1902)