L.S.,
I cannot believe that no one posted anything poetic about this morning's snow. Last week there was 10 minutes of sunshine, and everybody was all excited, but something as beautiful as snow in Brussels does not seem to inspire anybody. What is this world coming to?
Look at all the beautiful pictures: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Snow They've even got pictures of snow in Madrid.
Instead of writing my own poetry, I thought I'd simply steal someone else's. But the only thing I could find is this poem by Billy Collins:
Billy Collins - Snow Day
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
and beyond these windows
the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.
In a while I will put on some boots
and step out like someone walking in water,
and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,
and I will shake a laden branch,
sending a cold shower down on us both.
But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,
a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.
I will make a pot of tea
and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,
as glad as anyone to hear the news
that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,
the Ding-Dong School, closed,
the All Aboard Children's School, closed,
the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,
along with -- some will be delighted to hear --
the Toadstool School, the Little School,
Little Sparrows Nursery School,
Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School,
the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,
and -- clap your hands -- the Peanuts Play School.
So this is where the children hide all day,
These are the nests where they letter and draw,
where they put on their bright miniature jackets,
all darting and climbing and sliding,
all but the few girls whispering by the fence.
And now I am listening hard
in the grandiose silence of the snow,
trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,
what riot is afoot,
which small queen is about to be brought down.
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4 commentaires:
Just to let you know, snow in that strange place called Madrid is quite common
L.S.,
I know, it's on a plain. How high is it above sea level?
Martin
Martin, nobody post it because you are the Weather man in the Council.
L.S.,
When you have nothing else to talk about, there's always the wether.
That is, at least in those parts of Europe where the wether is actually unpredictable.
Martin
P.S. That age old fact notwithstanding, for some reason the Dutch translation of "small talk" is "talking about cows and calfs". I haven't a clue why.
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