Archive | March, 2011

On the One Road

25 Mar

We’re on the one road, sharing the one load
We’re on the road to God knows where
We’re on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we’re together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We’re on the one road, swinging along, singin’ a soldier’s song!

Though we’ve had our troubles now and then
Now’s the time to make them up again
Sure aren’t we all Irish anyhow?
Now is the time to step together now

We’re on the one road, sharing the one load
We’re on the road to God knows where
We’re on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we’re together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We’re on the one road, swinging along, singin’ a soldier’s song!

Tinker, tailor ­ every mother’s son
Butcher, baker ­ shouldering his gun
Rich man, poor man ­ every man in line
All together, just like Auld Lang Syne!

We’re on the one road, sharing the one load
We’re on the road to God knows where
We’re on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we’re together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We’re on the one road, swinging along, singin’ a soldier’s song!

Night is darkness just before the dawn
From dissensions, Ireland is reborn
Soon, will all United Irishmen
Make our land a Nation Once Again!

We’re on the one road, sharing the one load
We’re on the road to God knows where
We’re on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we’re together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We’re on the one road, swinging along, singin’ a soldier’s song!

Francis O’Donovan
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What I want

25 Mar

What I want
(Why was this so much to ask?)

What I want is to hold you tight and keep you from harm.

For you to charge fearlessly into the world, then share your adventures with me.

What I want is what I knew, all those many years ago when we were young and I saw your beautiful smile for the first time; I want to grow old with you by my side.

Killarney night one

19 Mar

Twitter not functioning for me tonight. After dinner, went to the pub in the hotels. The teenage girls are dancing and having a grand time. Very joyful, for them. Very loud for me, but with the live music it is worth it, at least for a few more minutes.

Trip so far

16 Mar

Updating intermittently because of expensive wifi. Hotel in London charged a pretty Penney. London very  nice; too quick, more of a tour of what to tour. Took night train to Edinburg and visited yesterday.  Toured castle and went on an underground ghost tour. More on that lateral.

Stayed at hotel w/o hot water and functioning wifi. That shower was not quite freezing.
 
Current hotel soap is not complementary. Glad they told prior using the facilities, NOT! Guide now arguing with desk. One towel in room for two. Finally got an extra, but no wash cloths.

Now having wine.

The Gate Keeper – Kafka

4 Mar

Before the Law

Before the law sits a gatekeeper. To this gatekeeper comes a man from the country who asks to gain entry into the law. But the gatekeeper says that he cannot grant him entry at the moment. The man thinks about it and then asks if he will be allowed to come in sometime later on. “It is possible,” says the gatekeeper, “but not now.” The gate to the law stands open, as always, and the gatekeeper walks to the side, so the man bends over in order to see through the gate into the inside. When the gatekeeper notices that, he laughs and says: “If it tempts you so much, try going inside in spite of my prohibition. But take note. I am powerful. And I am only the most lowly gatekeeper. But from room to room stand gatekeepers, each more powerful than the other. I cannot endure even one glimpse of the third.” The man from the country has not expected such difficulties: the law should always be accessible for everyone, he thinks, but as he now looks more closely at the gatekeeper in his fur coat, at his large pointed nose and his long, thin, black Tartar’s beard, he decides that it would be better to wait until he gets permission to go inside. The gatekeeper gives him a stool and allows him to sit down at the side in front of the gate. There he sits for days and years. He makes many attempts to be let in, and he wears the gatekeeper out with his requests. The gatekeeper often interrogates him briefly, questioning him about his homeland and many other things, but they are indifferent questions, the kind great men put, and at the end he always tells him once more that he cannot let him inside yet. The man, who has equipped himself with many things for his journey, spends everything, no matter how valuable, to win over the gatekeeper. The latter takes it all but, as he does so, says, “I am taking this only so that you do not think you have failed to do anything.” During the many years the man observes the gatekeeper almost continuously. He forgets the other gatekeepers, and this first one seems to him the only obstacle for entry into the law. He curses the unlucky circumstance, in the first years thoughtlessly and out loud; later, as he grows old, he only mumbles to himself. He becomes childish and, since in the long years studying the gatekeeper he has also come to know the fleas in his fur collar, he even asks the fleas to help him persuade the gatekeeper. Finally his eyesight grows weak, and he does not know whether things are really darker around him or whether his eyes are merely deceiving him. But he recognizes now in the darkness an illumination which breaks inextinguishably out of the gateway to the law. Now he no longer has much time to live. Before his death he gathers in his head all his experiences of the entire time up into one question which he has not yet put to the gatekeeper. He waves to him, since he can no longer lift up his stiffening body. The gatekeeper has to bend way down to him, for the great difference has changed things considerably to the disadvantage of the man. “What do you still want to know now?” asks the gatekeeper. “You are insatiable.” “Everyone strives after the law,” says the man, “so how is that in these many years no one except me has requested entry?” The gatekeeper sees that the man is already dying and, in order to reach his diminishing sense of hearing, he shouts at him, “Here no one else can gain entry, since this entrance was assigned only to you. I’m going now to close it.”

 

This translation by Ian Johnston of Vancouver Island University, Nanaimo, BC, has certain copyright restrictions.  For information please use the following link: Copyright.  For comments or question please contact Ian Johnston..  For more links to more Kafka e-texts in English click here. This text was last revised on February 21, 2009]