How so like a winter hath thy mood been For thee, the pleasure of the fleeting ink! What freezings hast thou felt, what dark days seen! What old December’s bareness every where! And yet this time of writing was summer’s time, The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the time, Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease: Yet this abundant issue seem’d to be But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit; For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, And, thou in mood, the very birds are mute; Or, if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.
Kindly as the light that rises up at dawn Against the dark night sky shining in the morn The dew of even glistening upon the lawn Halliday arises for the genethliac storm Exhaling fragrant canephoras at the start of every day Rutilantly presenting in a gentle roscid way Invoking languid sonorities in our crania of clay. Now hangs my unremembrant head in sadness, forsaken and forlorn E’en as the bold fritillary upon the springtime* morn.
The let not winter’s ragged hand deface For soon proud pied April shall efface And make sweet some vial, some treasure That heavy Saturn upon the green verdure Shall laugh and leap as winter days Give way to spring wherein The birds shall sing And blossom fling Its beauty o’er the earth.
Because the trees are in blossom the brook babbles down the hill side the sky is blue the air is warm the birds sing with delight the meadow is full of spring flowers Waitrose was open Jane insisted that we go in….. And its Tuesday
Eucharistic clades of cathartic narcissi In beryllian verdure optate over a hydral effluvium Asping through agnusacian elysiona While in celestial dynamic effulgence The photosynthetic domain of the autocratic solaris Throngs upon the fruitful ground which slumbers As armoured arthropods draw pneumatic nets Accumulating dew in flaxen phials: A thesaural presentment in this seasonal tide And on an April’s anniversarial morn.
As fast as thou shalt program, so fast thou art in art. Backbone of the office, from which thou now depart. Abacus the bounty to which DR gave a heart. Taxpack the fuel infuriates from the start. Electronic filing gives int’rest to the smarter Corporations now befuddled by the word from Carter. Technology for compliance available for barter, CT Lite from Sage is a very fine starter. Systems to accomplish all that you could need To aid and abet in consumerisms greed. Mark your words carefully, a transition now begins Closing down tonight a penalty for their sins?
Sagen wir zu allen Helden dass Änderungen über uns kommen werden In dem wir im Not fallen werden Das du bei wegen USt uns lassen wirst. Aber in deiner Zukunft mag es aller gut mitgehen Ohne besteuern.
Golden in the morning, the dew drops in the air, Against the emerald lawn in the sunlight runs the hare; Yet often, ever, yearning for velvet mosses rare Leveretian pinguid calling hangs sweetly next the pair. Expectantly the dawning of the genethliac day Exhales the fragrancing canephoras in the fray. And yet the very presence of the gentle, roscid way Invoked no kindly order in a cranium of clay. Instead the rutilant arising of solaris as if a faun Only the languid sonorities of the ending of a storm. To have such unrememberance, to find my mind is torn, Obumbrated, in the refulgence of this sauveolent dawn! So hangs my head in sadness, forsaken and forlorn As now the bold fritillary upon an April’s morn!
Y Gŵr wrth Ffynnon Jacob Eisteddodd gynt i lawr, Tramwyodd drwy Samaria, Tramwyed yma'n awr; 'R oedd syched arno yno Am gael eu hachub hwy, Mae syched arno eto Am achub llawer mwy.
Mwy, mwy am achub llawer mwy, Mae syched arno eto Am achub llawer mwy.
Y Gwr fu ar Galfaria A welir ddydd a ddaw, Yn eistedd ar ei orsedd, A'r glorian yn ei law; A phawb a gesglir ato I'w pwyso ger ei fron, O! f'enaid, cais dduwioldeb A dry y glorian hon.
Hon, hon a dry y glorian hon. O! f'enaid, cais dduwioldeb A dry y glorian hon.
The man at Jacob's Well He sat down quickly [there], [Then] went through Samaria [And, lo,] (comes) here now; He there [he] was thirsty For them to be saved, (More) thirsty again For (many) more [to] save.
More, more, much more to save, (More) thirsty again For (many) more [to] save.
The man who on Calvary [Had] seen [the] day [that] comes, [When] seated on his throne, [With] the scales in his hand; And all [the people] collected To be weighed before him, Oh! my soul, apply (his blood) And this will turn the scales.
This, this (only) will turn the scales. Oh! my soul, apply (his blood) And this will turn the scales.
This translation from a slightly different set of Welsh words is interesting: The Man at Jacob’s Well sat down before, he passed through Samaria, he passed here now; he was thirsty there to save them, he is thirsty again to save many more.
More, more, to save much more, He thirsts again to save much more.
We think light to see your glory, Oh! God, And who calls us to drink living waters; And leave our wells and our own water-vessels To drink fresh waters from the well of the Son of Man.
More, more, to save much more, He thirsts again to save much more.