Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta IRELAND--POTRY BY MIGUEL DUBOIS--. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta IRELAND--POTRY BY MIGUEL DUBOIS--. Mostrar todas las entradas

viernes, 21 de agosto de 2009

IRELAND

AMOR E DOZURA É VIVIR

IRELAND.
Pontevedra, a 019 de agosto de 2009
The sound of a simple solitary word,
The name of the World Peace,
A little smell about happiness,
The sense of the signicant of different words,
Some languages of some World Countries.
The result is always the same,
To be happy with yourself,
Because you have found the sense of all existence,
In this way you are happy with the other fellows,
You can shares you personal feelings,
You should respect the other thoughts,
Beause we are sharing the social life
For the good things and the suffeing
Of the hard sadness broken heart.
Sometimes I prefer to cry because
I this way I have forgotten the pain
Of my closed heart.
I prefer your smiling face,
I prefer your opened mouth,
But I never could undestand,
The false words, the usseless works.
I like the sound of the leaves of the trees,
I prefer the great solar light,
I feel the cold rain in winter,
I am very happy because I love
All the Great Sense of the Nature.
On the other hand,
I love the Irish Literature,
Why not Oscar Wilde,
Poem at the Reading Gaol,
Why not Patrick Kavavagh.
I have the sensation
I am in Dublin
When I was reading Dubliners.
Ouh, Mr, Joyce you were really a genius,
The hard times of that Ireland,
The Ille of the necesities,
The power of the Catholic Religion,
On the other hand the different kind of thinking about
Another Nobel Prize,William Butller Yeats,
A closed Lady's Gregory Augusta friend of him,
The West Coast, of course,
The Galelic Language, why not,
The times of summers at Aran Islands,
A Natural Paradise of the West Ireland.
The film Aran Man od Michael O'Flaherty
Ouh Mr, Joyce sometimes happinnes was with you
And with the artist Sarah Bernacle,
Ant the travels of Sarah from Dublin to Galway,
To visit her familly.
My memories about The Emerald Ille.
Are inforguetable,
The green fields,
I was loking acrooss the glasses of the Irish Train
The wonderful big trees,
The white or black sheeps,
The happy horses jumping over the white fense,
The big cows, the modern farms
A perfect Country
A pleasent people.
Ireland: you are marvellous.
Miguel Dubois.