Photographs by Dolwen, Karendil and PV.
Quotations compiled by PV and Eressëa.


by Dolwen


by Dolwen

The sky was clear — remarkably clear — and the twinkling of all the stars seemed to be but throbs of one body, timed by a common pulse. The North Star was directly in the wind’s eye, and since evening the Bear had swung round it outwardly to the east, till he was now at a right angle with the meridian. A difference of colour in the stars — oftener read of than seen in England — was really perceptible here. The sovereign brilliancy of Sirius pierced the eye with a steely glitter, the star called Capella was yellow, Aldebaran and Betelgueux shone with a fiery red.

To persons standing alone on a hill during a clear midnight such as this, the roll of the world eastward is almost a palpable movement. The sensation may be caused by the panoramic glide of the stars past earthly objects, which is perceptible in a few minutes of stillness, or by the better outlook upon space that a hill affords, or by the wind, or by the solitude; but whatever be its origin, the impression of riding along is vivid and abiding. The poetry of motion is a phrase much in use, and to enjoy the epic form of that gratification it is necessary to stand on a hill at a small hour of the night, and, having first expanded with a sense of difference from the mass of civilised mankind, who are dreamwrapt and disregardful of all such proceedings at this time, long and quietly watch your stately progress through the stars. After such a nocturnal reconnoitre it is hard to get back to earth, and to believe that the consciousness of such majestic speeding is derived from a tiny human frame.

from Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy


by Dolwen


by Dolwen

There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tir’d eyelids upon tir’d eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
Here are cool mosses deep,
And thro’ the moss the ivies creep,
And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

from The Lotos-Eaters by Alfred, Lord Tennyson


by PV

Anemonesangen

Dagen er så fuld af anemoner
fuglefløjt og farvespil i lyse kroner
Natten fuld af farlige dæmoner
spøgefugle, troldemænd og heksekoner

Åååh anemoner
dækker hele jorden li’som sne
Åaah anemoner
Snart får jeg vel sommeren at se

Dagen er så travl for de forfløjne
alle de forpjuskede og næsten nøgne
Natten er så fuld af gule øjne
her i mørket – dér på himlen – allevegne

Åååh anemoner
jeg vil sove i den hvide seng
Åaah anemoner
Under stjerner i en blomstereng

Åååh anemoner
dækker hele jorden li’som sne
Åaah anemoner
Snart får jeg vel sommeren at se

The Anemone Song
translation by Eressëa

The day is so full of anemones
Birds’ twittering, play of colours in light crowns
The night full of dangerous demons
Wags, wizards and old witches

Oooh anemones
Cover the entire ground like snow
Oooh anemones
I guess summer will be here soon

The day is so stressed for the busy
all the dishevelled and almost naked
The night is so full of yellow eyes
here in the dark – there in the sky – everywhere

Oooh anemones
I want to sleep in the white bed
Oooh anemones
Beneath stars in a flower bed

Oooh anemones
Cover the entire ground like snow
Oooh anemones
I guess summer will be here soon

Anemones, delicate and easily wind-bruised, lifted ivory flowers, the petals of which seemed to have been dipped in wine.

from My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell


by Karendil

We returned through the sun-striped olive groves where the chaffinches were pinking like a hundred tiny coins among the leaves. Yani, the shepherd, was driving his herd of goats out to graze. His brown face, with its great sweep of nicotine-stained moustache, wrinkled into a smile: a gnarled hand appeared from the heavy folds of his sheepskin cloak and was raised in salute.

Chairete,” he called in his deep voice, the beautiful Greek greeting, “chairete, kyrioi… be happy.”

The goats poured among the olives, uttering stammering cries to each other, the leader’s bell clonking rhythmically. The chaffinches tinkled excitedly. A robin puffed out his chest like a tangerine among the myrtles and gave a trickle of song. The island was drenched with dew, radiant with early morning sun, full of stirring life. Be happy. How could anyone be anything else in such a season?

from My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell


by Karendil


by Karendil

Daffodils

I wander’d lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

by William Wordsworth


by Dolwen


by Dolwen


by Dolwen


by Dolwen

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