petak, 05.09.2008.
Dwight Latham & Moe Jaffe: I'm my own grandpa (1947)
Upozorenje: Potrebna velika koncentracija
Many many years ago, when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red.
My father fell in love with her soon the two were wed.
This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life,
For my daughter was my mother, for she was my father's wife.
To complicate the matter, even though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of boucing baby boy.
My little baby thus became a brother-in-law to Dad,
And so became my uncle, though it made me very sad.
For if he was my uncle, then that also made him brother
To the widow's grown-up daughter, who of course was my step-mother.
Father's wife then had a son who kept him on the run,
And he became my grandchild for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother and it makes me blue,
Because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too!!
Oh, if my wife is my grandmother then I am her grandchild,
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now i have become the strangest case you ever saw –
As the husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.
da mi je znat dal ima ovog negdje na svijetu
- 17:29 -
Komentari (1) -
Isprintaj -
#
čudan je naš Bog
što ga udaramo više
pljujemo
izrugujemo i
guramo od sebe
On nas grli jače
Nije siromašan onaj koji ima malo,
nego onaj koji želi više
Nije važno da više imaš,
nego da manje trebaš
FREEDOM is just another way for nothing left to lose!!
NIKAD SI NEMOJ DOPUSTITI DA RADIŠ ONO ŠTO NE VOLIŠ!!
Sretan i mudar je onaj tko izjutra, kad se budi, veli: ''Danas želim biti bolji nego jučer!!'' Fenelon
Gdje nam je dokaz da naše 'ja' traje, da smo 'mi' još uvijek trajno i neprekidno 'mi'? Gdje nam je zapravo mjera? Filip Latinovicz
pjesmuljak
Prije svega, najljepša ženo,
izvini što čestitku dobivaš šutke.
Jer ovu pjesmu ne čuješ odista,
dobit ćeš barem sanjive trenutke
na dar.
"Zar?
Sanjive trenutke? Objasni malo.
Nisam shvatila."
"Pročitah ovlaš, uostalom.
Netom sam se vratila."
Eto, draga Kiki, moga objašnjenja
zašto ti poklanjam nešto tako sitno.
Čovjek je splet iluzija i sanja,
pa to što dobivaš i nije jako bitno.
Te lažne riječi što izviru iz mene
iskrenost su, ali ne na papiru.
Tek svijetli nad pjesmom značenje pravo,
a slova u tami nijemo umiru.
Eto, oduljih uvod,
tek da stvarima dam miris i boju.
A sada, najvažniji dio pjesme.
Čestitku pravu evo ti tvoju.
Sretan rođendan, zanosni cvijete
koji danas odrasta u ženu.
Desetog drugog osamdeset pete
tek malen, krhak pupoljak se prenu
na Suncu.
A danas, ljubica procva u svom sjaju.
Miris ljupki kao plamen vatre.
Na vrhu brijega, ponosno se diči
što za njome i pjesnici snatre.
Sretan rođendan, zemaljska sireno.
Rascvjetala se makar nebrojeno puta.
A onda kada vratiš se u vodu,
natrag svojim korijenima, sebi
znaj da nikad nećeš moć zalutat,
jer korijen tog cvijeta raste u slobodu.
