Rhymes for kids and catsoldier

POLAND . The Unofficial Guide

pawianThreads: 90 Posts: 5,395 Joined: May 30, 08 ♂	Oct 26, 11, 22:09 #1
Cat, have some Polish language practice with easy poetic stuff: Gdy otwieram oczy z rana W kuchni już się krząta mama Ciepłe mleko mi podaje Słyszę, pij moje kochanie.

pawianThreads: 90 Posts: 5,395 Joined: May 30, 08 ♂	Oct 27, 11, 21:36 #2
Piękna jest nasza ziemia, Przejrzysty nad nią błękit Piękna jest nasza mowa I pieśni i piosenki Piękna jest nasza Wisła Od gór dalekich do morza. Piękne są nasze dęby, Topola, sosna i brzoza. Piękny jest Biały Orzeł, Piękna jest biel i czerwień. Piękna nasza ojczyzno, Kochać będziemy cię wiernie!

pawianThreads: 90 Posts: 5,395 Joined: May 30, 08 ♂	Oct 27, 11, 22:09 #3
On 11 November we celebrate Independence Day: Kto ty jesteś? Polak mały! Jaki znak Twój? Orzeł biały! Gdzie Ty mieszkasz? Między swemi! W jakim kraju? W polskiej ziemi! Czym twa ziemia? Mą Ojczyzną! Czym zdobyta? Krwią i blizną! Czy ją kochasz? Kocham szczerze! A w co wierzysz/w Polskę wierzę!

♂

Oct 27, 11, 23:38 #4

A difficult one:

A może wśród gwiazd, w kosmosie,
mieszkają dziwne olbrzymy?
I jeżdżą na Wielkim Wozie,
choć nigdy ich nie widzimy?

A gdy się zmęczą już srodze
i jazdy mają za wiele
to może na Mlecznej Drodze
spijają kefir z butelek?

A może mają dywany
utkane z mgławic srebrzyście?
A może Słońce jest dla nich
tylko maleńkim ogniskiem?

A może grają tam w piłkę,
a piłką jest choćby Księżyc?
I Księżyc kopią z wysiłkiem,
aby w rozgrywkach zwyciężyć!

catsoldierThreads: 90 Posts: 697 Joined: Sep 27, 09 ♂	Oct 28, 11, 00:14 #5
pawian: Cat, have some Polish language practice with easy poetic stuff: Thanks Pawian, although I really don't like poetry!

gumishuThreads: 17 Posts: 3,943 Joined: Apr 6, 09 ♂	Oct 28, 11, 00:28 #6
catsoldier: pawian: Cat, have some Polish language practice with easy poetic stuff: Thanks Pawian, although I really don't like poetry! you have to hear it in Polish - the last one pawian inserted is quite melodic

♂

Edited by: catsoldier Oct 29, 11, 00:25 #7

gumishu:

you have to hear it in Polish - the last one pawian inserted is quite melodic

Thanks Gumishu and Pawian, I will keep it in mind. My dislike of poems goes back to school I think, we learnt poetry off by heart, there was no reason or explanation about what it was, what was good about it etc. and when it was in Irish that made it even worse. This was when I was starting school.

Later I learnt more poetry for what you would call Matura I think, it was desperate miserable stuff about death and dying usually etc. from a book called "Soundings". A lot of it was very introspective also, about art and if you would be remembered because of your art etc.

http://www.politicalworld.org/showthread.php?t=4762

Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

This one is a real "classic"

O stony grey soil of Monaghan
The laugh from my love you thieved;
You took the gay child of my passion
And gave me your clod-conceived.

You clogged the feet of my boyhood
And I believed that my stumble
Had the poise and stride of Apollo
And his voice my thick tongued mumble.

You told me the plough was immortal!
O green-life conquering plough!
The mandril stained, your coulter blunted
In the smooth lea-field of my brow.

You sang on steaming dunghills
A song of cowards' brood,
You perfumed my clothes with weasel itch,
You fed me on swinish food

You flung a ditch on my vision
Of beauty, love and truth.
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
You burgled my bank of youth!

Lost the long hours of pleasure
All the women that love young men.
O can I stilll stroke the monster's back
Or write with unpoisoned pen.

His name in these lonely verses
Or mention the dark fields where
The first gay flight of my lyric
Got caught in a peasant's prayer.

Mullahinsa, Drummeril, Black Shanco-
Wherever I turn I see
In the stony grey soil of Monaghan
Dead loves that were born for me.

61 [Guests - 42 / Members - 19] users on live forums now

Home \| Unanswered \| Archives \| Random \| Statistics	Time in Poland: 15:59 / May 26
About Us \| Contact Us \| Rules, Privacy \| Poland Advertising	© 2005-12 PolishForums.com

POLAND . The Unofficial Guide	Unanswered \| Archives
POLAND . The Unofficial Guide	Poland Information in English	Witamy, Guest \| PF Members \| Gold Members