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Tuesday, 19 August 2014

Photo: August trips Italy-Slovenia

Ronchi dei Legionari, WWI memorial in Redipuglia
Here on monumental terraces are buried the remains of 100,187 fallen: 39,857 known and 60,330 unknown
Aquileia
Basilica of Aquileia, 1031, rebuilt in 1379

Castle Duino, Sistiana and Porto Piccolo
Castle Duino

Soča


Korita Mostnice
Waterfall Mostnica
Vogel
View of Lake Bohinj
Felt ice cold
And to end the day we went to Bled for kremšnite :P

Monday, 18 August 2014

Photo: Ireland

Ireland, always dreamed of visiting one day, and this year I finally did! 7 days, well 6 to be telling the truth (it took us one day to get to Dublin, felt like flying to the end of the world) and 1.500 photographs, 20 videos. The path we took was something like this: Venice-Frankfurt-London-Dublin, then Belfast, Derry, Donegal, Sligo, Westport, Galway, Aran Islands (Inishmore), Cliffs of Moher, Ring of Kerry, Killarney, Watervillage, Cork, Cahir, Cashel, Killkenny and back to Dublin airport. 7 different hotels, and only one of them had a ghost in the room ;) 35 people plus tour guide and a driver, a very pleasant bunch. As there is a lot of photographs, it took me some time to put something together, so here it is:

Since we missed two connected flights I had the opportunity of sitting by the window and viewing London as we landed (such a big city)
I loved that every night we spent in a different hotel. The hotel that impressed me the most was Jameson, but I don't remember in which town.
Molly Malone and a pub in Dublin, others are details from Belfast.
Belfast, the dock where Titanic and Olympic were made (when she left, she was fine). A very interesting walk.
Giant's Causeway, the audio guide you receive on entering here is really great.
Peace lines and monument for Bloody sunday
Mostly from Donegal.
Sligo, with W.B. Yeats grave
Carrowmore
Monument dedicated to Great Famine
Kylemore Abbey

On Inishmore, one of Aran Islands, we rented bikes and biked across it.
Worm Hole, one of the most amazing things we saw.
Cliffs of Moher
Bunratty Village
Bunratty Castle
On the way through Ring of Kerry we also had the opportunity of listening to Irish pipes.
*
Lots of stories gather in such a short amount of time. It was worth it. And since I love music, here are a few Irish tunes as well:
Sláinte! ;)

Saturday, 9 August 2014

Poet: W. B. Yeats


As we went across Ireland, we stopped in country Sligo in a place called Drumcliff, where W. B. Yeats is buried (love the simple graves, no candles anywhere). I didn't read many of his poems before, and there I bought his poetry collection and have been reading it through-out the journey and still am. I find a sense of solace in them.

In 1917, William Butler Yeats published The Wild Swans at Coole, and from then onward he reached and maintained the height of his achievement. In 1923, he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature and, as a celebrated figure, he was indisputably one of the most significant modern poets and confounded expectations by producing his greatest work between the ages of 50 and 75. He had a lifelong interest in mysticism and occultism, and he joined The Ghost Club, a paranormal research organization, in 1911.


When You Are Old
By William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
*
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

This poem is also embroidered on a sculpture:


Poem: Losing




another street
another chance
yet she runs away
'cause it's all she's ever known
all she's ever loved has perished
no safe ground to land on
and her wings flutter with madness
*
no matter how familiar a name can sound
no matter where home can be felt
it all disappears, even if guarded
the surface of our hearts torn
from all the shakes we let in
this man-made suffering
can make a stone of the heart
*
losing is a game of the wind
the speed at which it takes
the blows it leaves behind
the chills it sets down the skin
there are galaxies hidden in the stories we write
and some words too, may lose their meaning
but in doing so what do they gain?
*
Yesterday I watched a movie called Short term 12; and since lately I've been feeling like I'm losing everything and everyone, this poem just poured out.

Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Poem: Heroes



every one of us lives his own story
filled with happiness and sorrow
our voices entwined to the world
wishing only to love and be loved
to take care of those dear to the heart
to protect and nurture
and what if they are taken away from us?
precious bodies in your arms, lifeless
and there's no one who can save them
no one who could fix our problems
all the world loses its' reason
how long does it take for sadness
to disappear from the fields?
or does it echo there for generations?
when people kill people
                who's the hero?
the one who won't show his face
but carry on, doing one good deed
at a time; who won't allow
his back to be broken by despair
raging around in turmoil
the believer that the good will prevail
in the end; the one who can loose
everything, yet still have faith in humanity
*
are you?

Sunday, 20 July 2014

Poem: Comfort of the clouds

in the comfortable corner of the room
when the world becomes silent and black
my thoughts subside, and only then do I dare to admit 
I think of you most of the time
more than I would allow to show
I utter a tiny wish, that you would think of me 
as often as I think of you
wishing that what we ventured onto was real and true
but I'm afraid to look up at the sky,
for it's easy enough to be shot down
so I keep it a secret, somewhere where I believe
I can guard it and play safe
but the truth is, the walls fall apart
as if you see right through me
just a thought of you soothes my weary mind
and I know the comfort of the clouds
*