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Having spent much of the predawn hours mesmerized and shooting the aurora at Vestrahorn, we managed to catch an hour of sleep before sunrise as twilight washed out the aurora activity. Sunrise wasn’t anything spectacular but clouds began rolling in once again.

 

Aaron and Rebecca insisted on staying put at Vestrahorn for another extra hour or so while Alan and I headed to town in search for some breakfast. As Alan and I neared Hofn I noticed some peculiar clouds forming over the mountains. I had seen those clouds once before in the Pacific Northwest and I immediately had Alan pull over. These clouds, Undulatus Asperatus, are extremely rare and resemble undulating ribbons in the sky. Although they are not officially recognized as a type of cloud yet, Asperatus clouds are some of the most unique and most beautiful clouds to dazzle the sky.

 

Sony A7r

EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS II

 

Website | Facebook | 500px | Google+

 

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

~Robert Frost

Dedicated to Ilsebatten, for being a super friend and a great artist. HBW!

 

Explore #51, Thursday, August 7, 2008 (not registerd by scout )

explore #237 on Friday, August 8, 2008

Northern Gannet

Bonaventure Island, Quebec Canada

 

please visit my site here

Other people's poems.

Black History Month, Accra Ghana

Hi there everyone.

I remember when I was studying Shakespeare in the US how difficult it was to grasp the meanings of old English. I do remember struggling with the history and language trying to understand what I was reading. I mean imagine that I read some lines, then watch the play recorded on a video tape and then discover that there was a joke said and that I could even guess it was a joke. I remember that it usually took me two weeks of continuous reading to finish reading one play. I am talking here about reading the text not the criticism and the history of the play.

I tried hard to translate some Arabic lines of poetry to you. Being no poet at all, this was very difficult. I then chose to ask our great friend Google about some trials of translating Arabic poetry to English. I found a great site and want to tell you about it. On this site, a hundred Arabic love lines of poetry are translated into English. You may love them, you may not. Remember that this is a different culture than yours. Remember also that it is very difficult to translate a line of poetry to another language. I mean we are not taking about translating words. Read here to know what is invloved in translating poetry:

“Poetry translation may be defined as relaying poetry into another language. Poetry's features can be sound-based, syntactic or structural or pragmatic in nature. Apart from transforming text, poetry translation also involves cognition, discourse, and action by and between human and textual actors in a physical and social setting. A poetry translation project usually aims to publicize a poet or poets. Poetry translation is typically overt. Poetry translators are concerned to interpret a source poem's layers of meaning, to relay this interpretation reliably, and/or to ‘create a poem in the target language which is readable and enjoyable as an independent, literary text. Poetry translation involves challenges and these are highlighted in this article. Poetry accounts for a tiny proportion of world translation output. Case studies and examples taken from poetry, however, have dominated theory-building in translation studies at the expense of more frequently translated genres.”

www.oxfordhandbooks.com/view/10.1093/oxfordhb/97801992393...

I chose some lines from this site vb.3dlat.com/showthread.php?t=140764 I did include the Arabic line of poetry and the translation of it. I Hope you enjoy these lines:

وما كنتُ ممن يدخلُ العشقُ قلبَهُ = ولكنّ من يُبصِرْ جفونكِ يَعشقُ

 

Love was never able to enter my heart; but seeing your eyes one inevitably falls in love

 

وما عجبي موت المحبينَ في الهوى = و لكن بقاءَ العاشقينَ عجيبُ

 

I never wonder why lovers die of love; but I am amazed how those who fall in love can remain alive

 

وإني لأهوى النومَ في غير حينهِ = لعلَ لقاءً في المنامِ يكونُ

 

O, how I desire to fall asleep at any moment, perchance I may see the beloved in my dreams

 

نقـّلْ فؤادكَ حيث شئتَ من الهوى = ما الحبُّ إلا للحبيبِ الأولِ

 

Let your heart roam and browse in fields of affection, true and lasting love, however, belongs only to the first love.

إذا شئتَ أن تلقى المحاسنَ كلها = ففي وجه من تهوى جميعُ المحاسنِ

 

If you wish to see all the charming and beautiful things in the world, you need not look beyond the face of your beloved.

رأيتُ بها بدراً على الأرض ماشياً = ولم أرَ بدراً قـّط يمشي على الأرض

 

In her, I saw a full moon walking on earth, though never before have I seen a moon on earth walking

ضممتكِ حتى قلتُ ناري قد انطفتْ = فلمْ تـُطفَ نيراني وزيدَ وقودها

 

When I embraced you so close, I thought the fire of my passion would die down; my fires never subsided, their flames roared instead

و قلتُ شهودي في هواكِ كثيرة ٌ = وأَصدَقهَا قلبي ودمعي مسفوحُ.

 

I said there are many who bear witness to my love for you; most truthful are my heart and my copious tears

 

Inspiration Poetry

 

HDR 7 scatti

Fotocamera: Nikon D700

Aperture: f/9

Shutter Speed: 1/15 s

Lente: 14 mm

ISO: 200

Exposure Bias: 0 EV

Flash: Off, Did not fire

Lens: Nikkor AF-S FX 14-24mm f/2.8G ED

Fall in the Garden series.

Bloor St W, Toronto ON 3 Sep 2022

for Brian Preen who knows all about birds in flight, motion and poetry! Please have a look! www.flickr.com/photos/sea_and_sand/

“Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.”

― Allen Ginsberg

When I'm out driving ... I tend to get so lost in the beautiful lines and curves of the road, that I forget to actually watch the traffic ... :)

  

City Lights Books

San Francisco, Calif.

57/365

Whilst ordinarily I love sitting down with five hundred, six hundred, seven hundred pages of prose, whether fact or fiction or somewhere in between, there are days, much like today, where all I want is to curl up with a book of poetry. I remember being the only one in my GCSE English class who would get excited by a page of poetry because I love the way the words seem to fit together, and show what they mean without having to spell it out. Poetry has this ability to outline something without ever stating it. I like that. But then, whenever I was analysing a piece of poetry, I would always feel slightly, I do not know, guilty or ashamed, perhaps. Because what if the poems were not meant to be over-analysed? What if I was reading further into them than the author wanted? What if, by reading too far into them, I spoiled them?

Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.

--Georges Bernanos, 1888-1948, French author--

 

6D & 24-105L

 

NEW: follow me on instagram.com/mamuangsuk_/ ! (lofi creative pics..)

 

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Hobby Lobby

 

I hear those creaky hinges

On that back door, you know

 

Possibly it's basic nuts and bolts

To know where your oil belongs

 

Just maybe it's in an oil can

On your own work bench

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©Christine A. Evans 9.15.17

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I really appreciate your comments and faves. I'm not a hoarder of contacts, but enjoy real-life, honest people. You are much more likely to get my comments and faves in return if you fit the latter description. Just sayin. :oD

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If you like b/w photography and/or poetry check out my page at:

expressionsbychristine.blogspot.com/</a

 

Flowers are pure poetry to me! These tulips were in my yard.

Bloor St W, Toronto ON 25 Apr 2022

Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.

Carl Sandburg

 

have a good start to the weekend :)

Dandelion poetry ... spring sunset

Officially I am on holiday - a staycation. So I have some extra time to catch up on my reading.

There is a little known branch of poetry for librarians called Book Spine Poetry.

So here's mine!

 

The Burnt Country

Cold Fear

The Good Turn

American Dirt

The Other End of the Line!

 

Interesting to note the authors are Australian, Danish, Irish, USA, Italian (Sicilian) and mainly thrillers/detective fiction. www.scholastic.com/teachers/blog-posts/alycia-zimmerman/s...

Enjoy.

"The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life."

~ Jean Giraudoux

 

Canna Jaegeriana clicked in the garden. This shot is unedited. The brownish BG is a wall.

Poetry Unbound is one of my favorite podcasts - reading this book, I could hear the beautiful lilting voice of the author - if you love poetry - his podcast is an absolute must!

window with a view

 

Gone now. Those of us that came here with our cameras will never forget it. These ruins in the woods were full of some mysterious voice that spoke in tongues of light. Artillery rounds for the U. S. Civil War were cast in this foundry.

 

Now the buildings and the woodland have been scraped from the earth. A clay lined basin containing waste from a paper mill has been installed where these bones stood.

"It is written on the arched sky; it looks out from every star. It is the poetry of Nature; it is that which uplifts the spirit within us."

John Ruskin

 

View On Black

 

Have a great start to your week!

 

... poésie de Monet...!!!

 

... poetry immortalizes all that is best and most beautiful in the world...!!!

 

... la poésie immortalise tout ce qu'il y a de meilleur et de plus beau dans le monde...!!!

... Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

... my wild river reflection…!!!

... an impressionnist photo safari concentrated mainly on a daily basis (or almost) on my small piece of planet of 55 000 square feet…!!!

... a Thoreau "waldennienne" approach…!!!

 

... reflet de ma rivière sauvage…!!!

... un safari photo impressioniste au quotidien concentré essentiellement (ou presque) sur un petit morceau de planète de 55 000 pieds carrés…!!!

... une démarche "waldennienne" à la Thoreau …!!!

New project. combining my poetry with my art.

so far they have lived separately, until somsone said something completely unrelated to either and the idea was sown.

art is about looking... ; )

 

o1.o9.2oo9

acrylic on canvas

20” square

I'm back on Dutch ground again. The cold and fresh air feel good.

The poetry of the earth is never dead. ~John Keats

 

Thanks Diana for the great texture! Please check out her wonderful work!

   

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