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Kaikki On Hyvin

Oli piv maailman parhain, oli vaatimuksia jo varhain
Joita toimitettiin ties mist, oli hirveet stmist
Kello kaulassaan aika juoksi ksittmtt mink vuoksi
Tiesi vain tuloksia tytyi nostaa, piiskata kuolluttakin hevosta
Niin me ravattiin kehdosta hautaan, hakattiin aivan kylmkin rautaa
Kaikki tiesi jo tullessaan sisn, nyt vaan kiiresti kaikkea lis
Laitettiin vaikka heikolle jlle, elementtitalot toisten plle
Radio toisti tunnissa kerran: "Peilists net maailman herran"
Jotain siit kai kuuli tuo tuuli kun kovin niin ryhtyikin puhaltamaan
Alkoi mahtavaa myrsky yllemme valmistamaan
Voi meit! Voi teit! Eksyneit!
Maailmaan tiemme kun toi, oli vain hmryys ja sekava syys
Pelastusarmeijaporukka yn meteli ja pastori rumpua li
Mustat pilvet kerntyi ensin, aivan kohta jo rakeita lensi
Rnt, kivi, rapaa ja muuta, taivas alkoi sylke ja huutaa
Ja kuin jnnitetty jousi, ostoskeskus otti ja nousi
terksisille verkkojaloilleen, eik kukaan jisi aloilleen
Pkseen puolet Puolanmaata pisti, keskelle keikkumaan ntisti
Palavat silmns keltaisista hampurilaisketjun kirjaimista
Se li Vapaudenpatsaasta vinon, pilvenpiirtjist halkopinon
Jlleen kokonainen kansa juoksi, nyt vain henkiriepunsa vuoksi
Metroasemasta ji vain tomumaja marmorille maatumaan
Ja kun keskustori katosi ksitin, moni tulisi kaatumaan
Se viskoi taloja virtojen suihin, katuvaloja puistojen puihin
Rouvat moottoritiesillan alla tukki korvia persilijalla
Huusi sireenit kellot ja vki, joka ukkostaivaalla nki
kun tuli vaunut ja helvetin piskit, meteoreja kupeiltaan iski
Silloin viime hetkell juuri, tuli taivaan leimahdus suuri
Sokaisi koko surkean maan, suisti ratsuvenkin radaltaan
Sitten oli jotain aivan uutta, pelkk pime hiljaisuutta
Ja kun valkeni vaimoni vaan, pyyhki plyist pukuaan
Ett joku meit silmiin sahaa, jos se olikin vain unta pahaa
Vaan jos niin kuka tn sopan keitti, tnne merenrantaan meidt heitti
Kuka sekoitti herrat ja narrit niin hyvin ettei en milloinkaan
toista toisesta erottamaan kyennyt taikuri taitavinkaan
Maailmaan tiemme kun toi, oli vain hmryys ja sekava syys
Kultaisin aterimin herrat puuroa si ja pankkiiri rumpua li
(skettin saamiemme tietojen mukaan Suomi on juuri kadonnut kartalta)
Nyt kaikki on hyvin, taivas on hyv
Seesteinen, syv, loputon
saa uskomaan ett kaikki muukin on
Kaikki on hyvin, meri on hyv
Se on sininen syv, loputon
Saa uskomaan ett kaikki muukin on
Nyt kaikki on hyvin, taivas on hyv
Se on seesteinen, syv, loputon
saa uskomaan ett kaikki muukin on
Kaikki on hyvin, meri on hyv
Se on sininen syv, loputon
saa uskomaan ett kaikki muukin on

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song performed by YUP
Added by Lucian Velea
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Maa Alla Horjuu

Kylm y.
On meilt shkt poikki jlleen.
Kiroilet,
ja laulaa laskuhaitarit
kun muut parit
ravintolain iloissa illastaa.
Se hieman vituttaa.
Vaan vaikka maa alla horjuu,
niin rakkaus kuole ei.
Jos seurapiiri meidt torjuu,
jos valtatie ne vei,
m piittaa en,
jos s
horjut mun vieress
ja niin se on
ja niin sen tulee olla.
Kylm y
harhailla tyls torin laitaa.
Kaaduttiin,
revitiin turvat asfalttiin,
mut' tajuttiin:
N ruumit, jotka sielu ylle saa,
ne on kytttavaraa.
Ja vaikka maa alla horjuu,
niin rakkaus kuole ei.
Jos seurapiiri meidt torjuu,
jos valtatie ne vei,
m piittaa en,
jos s
horjut mun vieress
ja niin se on
ja niin sen tulee olla.
Kylm y,
ja kansa katso meit kieroon.
Vaan tietk,
te voitte tyls elmnne pitkitt
ja hidastaa
ja jd kauas taa!
Me emme aio jarruttaa.
Ei, vaikka maa alla horjuu,
niin rakkaus kuole ei.
Jos seurapiiri meidt torjuu,
jos valtatie ne vei,
m piittaa en,
jos s
horjut mun vieress
ja niin se on
ja niin sen tulee olla.
Niin se on
ja niin sen tulee olla.

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song performed by YUP
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rankat Ankat

Ne rankat ankat rakentaa nuo bunkkerinsa betonista,
ja irvisten paloviinaa juo, kun askarrellaan tappolista.
On nynny mm pullasorsa, joka muutosmusiikkia soittaa.
On paperia sen Opel Corsa, kun panssarivaunu tiet tasoittaa.
On vihollinen vieras lapsikin, ja se maa joka j rajan taa.
Jos koputetaan oveen bunkkerin on tunnuslause koskaan et muuttua
saa... Koskaan et muuttua saa...
Ja moni tulee viel kaatumaan, ja katumaan, ett edes sattui syntymn.
Kun rankkojen ankkojen opetusryhm tulee teille tahtia nyttmn!
Niin aseita sormeilee rpylt hikiset.
Kuolet, jollet nkemyksin jaa.
Vaan sinkin rankka ankka viel vikiset, kun bunkkerissa
jokin rasahtaa.
Niin ankkajoukko htkht, vain hyheni ilmaan j leijumaan.
Nin voiman alttarille joutuu joskus uhraamaan!
Kun tulitus viimein taukoaa, kaatuneille tehdn kunniaa.
Ja suurin lyp muita ankkoja muistuttaa:
Kvaak kvaak kvaak! Sanokaa niille ett min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak! Sanokaa niille ett min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak! Sanokaa niille ett min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
MIES!
Vihdoin viimein odotettu piv koitti.
Johtaja-ankka lhtkskyn konekivrill soitti
soitti. Hyheniin meni mutaa ja rapaa, ja jokainen oli
vastuusta vapaa, tieten tyn oikeutuksen!
Vaan vihan innossa kontrolli petti.
Liian varhain irti psi tulivoima.
Taisi irti pst koko helvetti,
kun oli joka ankka pian toisen likvidoima.
Vain yksi en tantereella raahautui viime voimillaan.
Se rjytti reiin vihollismuuriin,
ja ji nky katsomaan.
Se kyrillen tiiraili kolostaan,
kun kansa rannalla nauroi ja ui.
Ja moni nytti nauttivan olostaan,
rankka ankka rantaleijonille nyrkki pui.
Se silmns loi yls taivaaseen,
ja lausui viimeiseksi lauseekseen:
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!
Kvaak kvaak kvaak kvaak! Min olen mies!

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song performed by YUP
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mit Luoja Teki Ennen Kuin Loi Maailman?

Aivan kaiken alussa,
alkuhmrn valossa
ei nhty paljoakaan.
Kiertvill kivilln
varjopari pimen
vaiti katosi vaan...
Toisilla eessn taljoja.
Taljoilla puisia maljoja.
Maljoissa mit niis?
Kysymys kuuluu siis:
Mit luoja teki ennenkuin loi maailman?
Sanoi "Lusifer, kuoma, 'maapalloa' katsohan,
olen muovaillut nyt tllaista ja suunnitellut niin,
ett pian trmiltisiin tuolla meidn kaltaisiin,
ylleen taivaankatot, alleen matot maatilkuista teen,
annan aiheet elon iloon, lkkeet sielun murheeseen..."
niin soljui suunnitelmat kunnes vaivihkaa vaan
muuttuivat sorinaksi kaikkeuden kohinaan...
Lusifer katsoi maata,
sanoi: "ehket edes sin saata
ohjailla kaikkea sit...
Mutta l masennu,
ajatus oli hyv,
mit?
l sure sit,
moni meist pit
yht pt mutta montaa mielt:
anna lapsesi menn,
pst pallosi kellumaan galaksiin sielt!
Avaruuden aallokkoon
se menn saakoon."
Mit luoja teki ennekuin loi maailman?
Kuuli porstuasta isoisn hiljaa huokaavan:
"Luoja poukkoilee vaan sinne tnne, ei kiinnostu mistn,
- mahtaakohan aikaan saada koskaan mitn hydyllist?
Sitten mutisi: "taata,
ehket edes sin saata
ohjailla kaikkea sit...
Mutta l masennu,
ajatus oli hyv,
mit?
l sure sit,
moni meist pit
yht pt mutta montaa mielt,
anna lapsesi menn,
pst pallosi kellumaan galaksiin sielt!
l sure sit,
moni meist pit
yht pt mutta montaa mielt,
anna lapsesi menn,

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song performed by YUP
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paratiisin Sahakielet

Tarkkailkaa jlkikasvuanne:
ehk teidnkin pikku Marjattanne
on aikeissa ohjeenne unohtaa...
Seksuaalinen holtittomuus saa
otteen Marjatasta, ja - katsokaa:
kun pari karvaisia jalkoja
nahkahousuissa hikoaa...
tytt viiksi kasvattaa!
Kurittajanlakki otsaa koristaa:
(Kuuletteko te sen,
mink min kuulen?)
Mit sanotte sukulaisille?
Minne hpepilkkunne aiotte piilottaa?!
(Kuuletteko te sen,
mink min kuulen?)
Me olemme ne
paratiisin sahakielet
saapuneet
hakemaan
lastenne sielut!
"Se ei voi olla minusta!" , huutaa is.
Se hinttik hnen perheens lis?
- se sama hintti kotiin kuljettaa
laumoittain ystvin uusia,
joukkoa perin arveluttavaa...
ja taustalla pauhaa
-kumma kyll- se sama melu...
se murskaa! jauhaa! ei hetken rauhaa
suo. Huumediileri sy pydstnne,
ylenkatsoo teit, antaa ylen ja naurahtaa
(Kuuletteko te sen,
mink min kuulen?)
Mit sanotte sukulaisille?
Minne hpepilkkunne aiotte piilottaa?!
(Kuuletteko te sen,
mink min kuulen?)
Me olemme ne
paratiisin sahakielet
saapuneet
hakemaan
lastenne sielut!
Tarkkailkaa jlkikasvuanne:
kyll teidnkin rakas pikku-Jukkanne
saastaa kotiin salakuljettaa...
Tarkkailkaa jlkikasvuanne!
kyll teidnkin rakas pikku-Jukkanne...
niin, ja taustalla pauhaa
se sama melu: se alati pauhaa
Se murskaa! jauhaa! ei hetken rauhaa!
pilkkokaa stereonsa! pilkkokaa radionsa!

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song performed by YUP
Added by Lucian Velea
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Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth

Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,
Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose
Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd,
With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd:
Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear,
When conquer'd, to rehearse the shameful war?
Yet I'll the melancholy story trace;
So great a conqu'ror softens the disgrace:
Nor was it still so mean the prize to yield,
As great, and glorious to dispute the field.
The Story of Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,
Achelous and For all the country spoke her beauty's fame.
Hercules Long was the nymph by num'rous suitors woo'd,
Each with address his envy'd hopes pursu'd:
I joyn'd the loving band; to gain the fair,
Reveal'd my passion to her father's ear.
Their vain pretensions all the rest resign,
Alcides only strove to equal mine;
He boasts his birth from Jove, recounts his spoils,
His step-dame's hate subdu'd, and finish'd toils.
Can mortals then (said I), with Gods compare?
Behold a God; mine is the watry care:
Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,
Branch into streams, and o'er the region stray:
No foreign guest your daughter's charms adores,
But one who rises in your native shores.
Let not his punishment your pity move;
Is Juno's hate an argument for love?
Though you your life from fair Alcmena drew,
Jove's a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.
Chuse then; confess thy mother's honour lost,
Or thy descent from Jove no longer boast.
While thus I spoke, he look'd with stern disdain,
Nor could the sallies of his wrath restrain,
Which thus break forth. This arm decides our right;
Vanquish in words, be mine the prize in fight.
Bold he rush'd on. My honour to maintain,
I fling my verdant garments on the plain,
My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,
And with bent hands expect the furious war.
O'er my sleek skin now gather'd dust he throws,
And yellow sand his mighty muscles strows.
Oft he my neck, and nimble legs assails,
He seems to grasp me, but as often fails.
Each part he now invades with eager hand;
Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.
So when loud storms break high, and foam and roar
Against some mole that stretches from the shore;
The firm foundation lasting tempests braves,
Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.

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poem by Ovid
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Gleb

se oli kuin noituutta:
ei pystytty ksittmn,
kuinka suurmiehikin Gleb
ivallaan sai itkemn!!
mursi muutamalla sanalla: lause tai kaksi!
hnt alettiin kutsua teurastajaksi.
koko kyl oli kovin uninen,
vain valossa
alkavan aamun viel
saunottiin juhlatalossa:
oli suureen neen maailmalta melskaamaan
ylpistyneet herrat tulleet lapsuusmaisemaan.
Gleb tiet tulokkaista, lht tekee,
vet niskaan pitkn viitan, viestiintuojiin
vilkaisee...
hlmt soittakoot suitaan,
hlmilkt vaan,
pian tulee teurastaja:
tulee teurastamaan,
nolaamaan kysymyksilln
ja jo koht'silln teurastaa.
ja teurastaa kuin sian!
"epmukavaa?
sep mukavaa!"
lylyss niille, jotka ei osaa el,
naurettiin,
kaukaa tuodut hienot juomat
kiuasvesiksi viskottiin,
Gleb ovella takkia riisuu, paljastaa pn,
koputtaa ja koko kyl pit henken...
"kylpyvieraitako?
katsotaanpas!", huudetaan
"herrat, en ky kylpemn nyt-
asiani vie hetken vaan"
oli hetken hiljaista ja kun poistuessaan
kahdet kasvot kalvenneet nousi saunan ikkunaan
katsomaan tuon tumman hahmon pern vaiti, niin
taas teurastajan teurastaneen tiedettiin...
hlmt soittakoot suitaan...
Gleb on julma mies
mutta kuitenkin nyr:
miettii usein, ett varmasti
joku toinen julmuri jossain
teurastaa
viel hntkin
etevmmin

song performed by YUP
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Balthasar Oli Naisten Mies

Minp kerron teille,
mit kaupungilla kuiskittiin:
Balthasarin asunnossa niin
useinkin liioiteltiin...
Liioiteltiin juomingeissa,
viikkoja liioiteltiin!
Olutta keralla spriin
kuiviin kurkkuihin kaadettiin.
Huhuttiinpa huonomaineisten
naistenkin iltaisin vierailevan
ja enkeleiden kuiskailevan:
"Balthasar, kuulehan!..."
Ja min tiedn kyll,
mit miehet naisilta tahtovat...
ja nekin teist tietvt,
jotka tarkoin tuumivat.
Balthasar on irstailija, joka liioitellut on,
ruoassa ja juomassakin ollut kohtuuton (on, on)
orgioita ja haureutta ja syntej sodoman!
Vuosia enkelit varoittelivat: "Balthasar, kuulehan..."
Rudolf tiesi kuolemattomuudesta
ja Balthasar ties
naiset, sill Balthasar
oli naisten mies.
Ja min puolestani tiesin,
mit naista se keittin vei...
min tiesin kyll
mutta Balthasar tiennyt ei.
Mutta taivas yksin tiet
miksi ers sunnuntai
hn lyijy sydkseen sai
ja pukunsa puusta kai.
Minp kerron teille,
mit kaupungilla kuiskittiin:
Balthasarin asunnossa niin
useinkin liioiteltiin.
Balthasar on puupalttoossa! Joku liioitellut on,
hairahtunut hornantyhn, ollut kohtuuton (on, on)
hairahtunut hornantyhn, syntiin sodoman!
Vuosia enkelit varoittelivat: " Balthasar, kuulehan..."
Enkelit lauloivat:
Balthasar haudattiin
yhteisasunnon takapihan multiin kuohkeisiin.

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The Golden Age

Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
To notes of wail and accents warm with fire;
Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,
And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;
To which the World, waxed desolate and old,
Fondly reverts, and calls the Age of Gold.

Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side,
Men found their few and simple wants supplied;
Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air,
And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer.
Love, with no charms except its own to lure,
Was swiftly answered by a love as pure.
No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower,
Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower.
Far in the future lurked maternal throes,
And children blossomed painless as the rose.
No harrowing question `why,' no torturing `how,'
Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow.
The growing mind had naught to seek or shun;
Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun.
From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy,
And the gray sire was happy as the boy.
Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife,
And Death was almost easier than Life.
Safe on its native mountains throve the oak,
Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke.
No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,
Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore.
No distant mines, by penury divined,
Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind.
Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam,
And hugged the safe felicity of home.

Those days are long gone by; but who shall say
Why, like a dream, passed Saturn's Reign away?
Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil,
And naught remains except a Golden Tale.
Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved
That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved;
Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride,-
Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide.
But when that cruel Fiat smote the earth,
Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth.
In sorrow stole the infant from the womb,
The agëd crept in sorrow to the tomb.
The ground, so bounteous once, refused to bear
More than was wrung by sower, seed, and share.

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poem by Alfred Austin
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Jykev On Rakkaus (Ville Valo And The Agents)

En tied mik sussa oikein kiinnosti
mut heti mulla silloin kyll vlhti ett emphn pistis
vastaankaan kuljeskelemista ihan kahdestaan
Nyt on styylattu kuukaus niin jykev on rakkaus
Mun kaveritkin kattoo ihan kummissaan
ja miettii varmaan olenko m tosissaan
No enhn m ole pahemmin
muiden kanssa ollut sua ennemmin
Nyt on styylattu kuukaus niin jykev on rakkaus
Muistat kai mit juteltiin kun himaan pin kuljettiin
s kerroit miten sua tympsee jtkt jotka makeilee
M luulen ett m pikkuhiljaa muutuinkin jotain kai m sulta tss
opinkin
kovanaamaa en esit en jos suoraan sanon se toi mulle
helpotuksen
Sen on tehnyt t kuukaus niin jykev on rakkaus
Muistat kai mit juteltiin kun himaan pin kuljettiin
s kerroit miten sua tympsee jtkt jotka makeilee
M luulen ett m pikkuhiljaa muutuinkin jotain kai m sulta tss
opinkin
kovanaamaa en esit en jos suoraan sanon se toi mulle
helpotuksen
Sen on tehnyt t kuukaus niin jykev on rakkaus
Sen on tehnyt t kuukaus niin jykev on rakkaus

song performed by H.I.M.
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Temora - Book VIII

ARGUMENT.

The fourth morning from the opening of the poem comes on Fingal, still continuing in the place to which he had retired on the preceding sight, is seen, at intervals, through the mist which covered the rock of Cormul. The descent of the king is described. He orders Gaul, Dermid, and Carril the bard, to go to the valley of China, and conduct from thence the Caledonian army, Ferad-artho, the son of Cairbar, the only person remaining of the family of Conar, the first king of Ireland. The king makes the command of the army, and prepares for battle. Marching towards the enemy, he comes to the cave of Lubar, where the body of Fillan lay. Upon seeing his dog, Bran, who lay at the entrance of the cave, his grief returns. Cathmor arranges the Irish army in order of battle. The appearance of that hero. The general conflict is described. The actions of Fingal and Cathmor. A storm. The total rout of the Fir-bolg. The two kings engage, in a column of mist, on the banks of Lubar, Their attitude and conference after the combat. The death of Cathmor. Fingal resigns the spear of Trenmor to Ossian. The ceremonies observed on that occasion. The spirit of Cathmor, in the mean time, appears to Sul-malla, in the valley of Lona. Her sorrow. Evening comes on. A feast is prepared. The coming of Ferad-artho is announced by the songs of a hundred bards. The poem closes with a speech of Fingal.

As when the wintry winds have seized the waves of the mountain lake, have seized them in stormy night, and clothed them over with ice; white to the hunter's early eye, the billows still seem to roll. He turns his ear to the sound of each unequal ridge. But each is silent, gleaming, strewn with boughs, and tufts of grass, which shake and whistle to the wind, over their gray seats of frost. So silent shone to the morning the ridges of Morven's host, as each warrior looked up from his helmet towards the hill of the king; the cloud-covered hill of Fingal, where he strode in the folds of mist. At times is the hero seen, greatly dim in all his arms. From thought to thought tolled the war, along his mighty soul.

Now is the coming forth of the king. First appeared the sword of Luno; the spear half issuing from a cloud, the shield still dim in mist. But when the stride of the king came abroad, with all his gray dewy locks in the wind; then rose the shouts of his host over every moving tribe. They gathered, gleaming round, with all their echoing shields. So rise the green seas round a spirit, that comes down from the squally wind. The traveller hears the sound afar, and lifts his head over the rock. He looks on the troubled bay, and thinks he dimly sees the form. The waves sport, unwieldy, round, with all their backs of foam.

Far distant stood the son of Morni, Duthno's race, and Cona's bard. We stood far distant; each beneath his tree. We shunned the eyes of the king: we had not conquered in the field. A little stream rolled at my feet: I touched its light wave, with my spear. I touched it with my spear: nor there was the soul of Ossian. It darkly rose, from thought to thought, and sent abroad the sigh.

"Son of Morni," said the king, "Dermid, hunter of roes! why are ye dark, like two rocks, each with its trickling waters? No wrath gathers on Fingal's soul, against the chiefs of men. Ye are my strength in battle; the kindling of my joy in peace. My early voice has been a pleasant gale to your years, when Fillan prepared the bow. The son of Fingal is not here, nor yet the chase of the bounding roes. But why should the breakers of shields stand, darkened, far way?"

Tall they strode towards the king: they saw him turned to Morn's wind. His, tears came down for his blue-eyed son, no slept in the cave of streams. But he brightened before them, and spoke to the broad-shielded kings.

"Crommal, with woody rocks, and misty top, the field of winds, pours forth, to the sight, blue Lubar's streamy roar. Behind it rolls clear-winding Lavath, in the still vale of deer. A cave is dark in a rock; above it strong-winged eagles dwell; broad-headed oaks, before it, sound in Cluna's wind. Within, in his locks of youth, is Ferad-artho, blue-eyed king, the son of broad-shielded Cairbar, from Ullin of the roes. He listens to the voice of Condan, as gray he bends in feeble light. He listens, for his foes dwell in the echoing halls of Temora. He comes, at times, abroad in the skirts of mist, to pierce the bounding roes. When the sun looks on the field, nor by the rock, nor stream, is he! He shuns the race of Bolga, who dwell in his father's hall. Tell him, that Fingal lifts the spear, and that his foes, perhaps, may fail.

"Lift up, O Gaul, the shield before him. Stretch, Dermid, Temora's spear. Be thy voice in his ear, O Carril, with the deeds of his fathers. Lead him to green Moi-lena, to the dusky field of ghosts; for there, I fall forward, in battle, in the folds of war. Before dun night descends, come to high Dunmora's top. Look, from the gray skirts of mist, on Lena of the streams. If there my standard shall float on wind, over Lubar's gleaming stream, then has not Fingal failed in the last of his fields."

Such were his words; nor aught replied the silent striding kings. They looked sidelong on Erin's host, and darkened as they went. Never before had they left the king, in the midst of the stormy field. Behind them, touching at times his harp, the gray-haired Carril moved. He foresaw the fall, of the people, and mournful was the sound! It was like a breeze that comes, by fits, over Lego's reedy lake; when sleep half descends on the hunter, within his mossy cave.

"Why bends the bard of Cona," said Fingal, "over his secret stream? Is this a time for sorrow, father of low-laid Oscar? Be the warriors remembered in peace; when echoing shields are heard no more. Bend, then, in grief, over the flood, where blows the mountain breeze. Let them pass on thy soul, the blue-eyed dwellers of the tomb. But Erin rolls to war; wide tumbling, rough, aid dark. Lift, Ossian, lift the shield. I am alone, my son

As comes the sudden voice of winds to the becalmed ship of Inis-huna, and drives it large, along the deep, dark rider of the wave; so the voice of Fingal sent Ossian, tall along the heath. He lifted high his shining shield, in the dusky wing of war; like the broad, blank moon, in the skirt of a cloud, before the storms. arise.

Loud, from moss-covered Mora, poured down, at once, the broad-winged war. Fingal led his people forth, king of Morven of streams. On high spreads the eagle's wing. His gray hair is poured on his shoulders broad. In thunder are his mighty strides. He often stood, and saw, behind, the wide-gleaming rolling of armor. A rock he seemed, gray over with ice, whose woods are high in wind. Bright streams leapt from its head, and spread their foam on blasts.

Now he came to Lubar's cave, where Fillan darkly slept. Bran still lay on the broken shield: the eagle-wing is strewed by the winds. Bright, from withered furze, looked forth the hero's spear. Then grief stirred the soul of the king, like whirlwinds blackening on a lake. He turned his sudden step, and leaned on his bending spear.

White-breasted Bran came bounding with joy to the known path of Fingal. He came, and looked towards the cave, where the blue-eyed hunter lay, for he was wont to stride, with morning, to the dewy bed of the roe. It was then the tears of the king came down and all his soul was dark. But as the rising wind rolls away the storm of rain, and leaves the white streams to the sun, and high hills with their heads of grass; so the returning war brightened the mind of Fingal. He bounded, on his spear, over Lubar, and struck his echoing shield. His ridgy host bend forward, at once, with all their pointed steel.

Nor Erin heard, with fear, the sound: wide they come rolling along. Dark Malthos, in the wing of war, looks forward from shaggy brows. Next rose that beam of light, Hidalla! then the sidelong-looking gloom of Maronnan. Blue-shielded Clonar lifts the spear: Cormar shakes his bushy locks on the wind. Slowly, from behind a rock, rose the bright form of Atha. First appeared his two-pointed spears, then the half of his burnished shield: like the rising of a nightly meteor, over the valley of ghosts. But when ha shone all abroad, the hosts plunged, at once, into strife. The gleaming waves of steel are poured on either side.

As meet two troubled seas, with the rolling of all their waves, when they feel the wings of contending winds, in the rock-sided firth of Lumon; along the echoing hills in the dim course of ghosts: from the blast fall the torn groves on the deep, amidst the foamy path of whales. So mixed the hosts! Now Fingal; now Cathmor came abroad. The dark tumbling of death is before them: the gleam of broken steel is rolled on their steps, as, loud, the high-bounding kings hewed down the ridge of shields.

Maronnan fell, by Fingal, laid large across a stream. The waters gathered by his side, and leapt gray over his bossy shield. Clonar is pierced by Cathmor; nor yet lay the chief on earth. An oak seized his hair in his fall. His helmet rolled on the ground. By its thong, hung his broad shield; over it wandered his streaming blood. Tla-min shall weep, in the hall, and strike her heaving breast. Nor did Ossian forget the spear, in the wing of his war. He strewed the field with dead. Young Hidallan came. "Soft voice of streamy Clonra! why dost thou lift the steel? O that we met in the strife of song, in thine own rushy vale!" Malthos beheld him low, and darkened as he rushed along. On either side of a stream, we bent in the echoing strife. Heaven comes rolling down; around burst the voices of squally winds. Hills are clothed, at times, in fire. Thunder rolls in wreaths of mist. In darkness shrunk the foe: Morven's warriors stood aghast. Still I bent over the stream, amidst my whistling locks.

Then rose the voice of Fingal, and the sound of the flying foe. I saw the king, at times, in lightning, darkly striding in his might. I struck my echoing shield, and hung forward on the steps of Alnecma; the foe is rolled before me, like a wreath of smoke.

The sun looked forth from his cloud. The hundred streams of Moi-lena shone. Slow rose the blue columns of mist, against the glittering hill. Where are the mighty kings? Nor by that stream, nor wood, are they! I hear the clang of arms! Their strife is in the bosom of that mist. Such is the contending of spirits in a nightly cloud, when they strive for the wintry wings of winds, and the rolling of the foam-covered waves.

I rushed along. The gray mist rose. Tall, gleaming, they stood at Lubar. Cathmor leaned against a rock. His half-fallen shield received the stream, that leapt from the moss above. Towards him is the stride of Fingal: he saw the hero's blood. His sword fell slowly to his side. He spoke, amidst his darkening joy.

"Yields the race of Borbar-duthul? Or still does he lift the spear? Not unheard is thy name, at Atha, in the green dwelling of strangers. It has come, like the breeze of his desert, to the ear of Fingal. Come o my hill of feasts: the mighty fail, at times. No fire am I to low-laid foes; I rejoice not over the fall of the brave. To close the wound is mine: I have known the herbs of the hills. I seized their fair heads, on high, as they waved by their secret streams. Thou art dark and silent, king of Atha of strangers!"

"By Atha of the stream," he said, "there rises a mossy rock. On its head is the wandering of boughs, within the course of winds. Dark, in its face, is a cave, with its own loud rill. There have I heard the tread of strangers, when they passed to my hall of shells. Joy rose, like a flame, on my soul; I blest the echoing rock. Here be my dwelling, in darkness; in my grassy vale. From this I shall mount the breeze, that pursues my thistle's beard; or look down on blue-winding Atha, from its wandering mist."

"Why speaks the king of the tomb? Ossian, the warrior has failed! Joy meet thy soul, like a stream, Cathmor friend of strangers! My son, I hear the call of years; they take my spear as they pass along. Why does not Fingal, they seem to say, rest within his hall? Dost thou always delight in blood? In the tears of the sad? No; ye dark-rolling years, Fingal delights not in blood. Tears are wintry streams that waste away my soul. But when I lie down to rest, then comes the mighty voice of war. It awakes me in my hall and calls forth all my steel. It shall call it forth no more; Ossian, take thou thy father's spear. Lift it, in battle, when the proud arise.

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poem by James Macpherson
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Lara

LARA. [1]

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, [2]
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord —
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

II.

The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself; — that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest! —
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.

III.

And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
"Yet doth he live!" exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.

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poem by Byron
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Lara. A Tale

The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain,
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord--
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself;--that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest!--
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.

III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
'Yet doth he live!' exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy grace
The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place;
But one is absent from the mouldering file,
That now were welcome to that Gothic pile.

IV.
He comes at last in sudden loneliness,
And whence they know not, why they need not guess;

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poem by Byron
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Passiivista Vastarintaa

miss se on se steily, kun ei sit missn haista
ei sit pellon pientareella tai metsn reunassa ny
on vain sakenevaa st, ja koiralla kolme pt
ja tyhjt kaupat, kirkot joissa ei kukaan ky.
ijt saapuu moskovasta, voimakkuuksia mittaamaan
ne kulkee maskit kasvoilla, huutaa kaukaa miten voit
no min kyll sopeudun ja joka y kuulen kun
GaGarin ja laika ja lentv lautanen
liitelee yll saastuneen maan laulaen
vaikka tyls on keihn krki, ja steilee ihon pinta
ei turhaa ole passiivinen vastarinta.
pid psi poika, l lhde jos tahdo et.
ja kurjuuden jlkeen saat maat taivaiset.
pid psi poika, l lhde jos tahdo et.
ja kurjuuden jlkeen saat maat taivaiset.
min mittaan sen steilynne, perheeni pakona suomeen
ja rakkaan kotijrven silmttmin kaloina
kun se reaktori rjhti, niin kaikki muut tlt lhti
mutta minhn lhden kotoani vain kilon paloina
viel viimekuussa oli sudella hampaat suussa
nyt se ei sy ja kaljuineen se on gorbatchoviin tullut
posteljooni uskaltautuu tnne joka joulu. tuo postikortin
vaimolta, se sanoo olet hullu.
kuka viisas tiedemies laski kaiken laskimellaan,
ja kuinka se niin vhn ties. yhtkaikki tyydyn thn.
no min kyll sopeudun ja joka y kuulen kun
gagarin ja laika ja lentv lautanen
liitelee yll saastuneen maan laulaen
vaikka tyls on keihn krki, ja steilee ihon pinta
ei turhaa ole passiivinen vastarinta.
pid psi poika, l lhde jos tahdo et.
ja kurjuuden jlkeen saat maat taivaiset.
pid psi poika, l lhde jos tahdo et.
ja kurjuuden jlkeen saat maat taivaiset.
gagarin ja laika ja lentv lautanen
niin lauloivat nuo, gagarin ja laika ja lentv lautanen
aaa-aaa-aaa-aaa-aaa

song performed by YUP
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 10

THE GATES of heav’n unfold: Jove summons all
The gods to council in the common hall.
Sublimely seated, he surveys from far
The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war,
And all th’ inferior world. From first to last, 5
The sov’reign senate in degrees are plac’d.
Then thus th’ almighty sire began: “Ye gods,
Natives or denizens of blest abodes,
From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind,
This backward fate from what was first design’d? 10
Why this protracted war, when my commands
Pronounc’d a peace, and gave the Latian lands?
What fear or hope on either part divides
Our heav’ns, and arms our powers on diff’rent sides?
A lawful time of war at length will come, 15
(Nor need your haste anticipate the doom),
When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome,
Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains,
And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.
Then is your time for faction and debate, 20
For partial favor, and permitted hate.
Let now your immature dissension cease;
Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace.”
Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge;
But lovely Venus thus replies at large: 25
“O pow’r immense, eternal energy,
(For to what else protection can we fly?)
Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare
In fields, unpunish’d, and insult my care?
How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, 30
In shining arms, triumphant on the plain?
Ev’n in their lines and trenches they contend,
And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend:
The town is fill’d with slaughter, and o’erfloats,
With a red deluge, their increasing moats. 35
Æneas, ignorant, and far from thence,
Has left a camp expos’d, without defense.
This endless outrage shall they still sustain?
Shall Troy renew’d be forc’d and fir’d again?
A second siege my banish’d issue fears, 40
And a new Diomede in arms appears.
One more audacious mortal will be found;
And I, thy daughter, wait another wound.
Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave,
The Latian lands my progeny receive, 45
Bear they the pains of violated law,
And thy protection from their aid withdraw.
But, if the gods their sure success foretell;
If those of heav’n consent with those of hell,
To promise Italy; who dare debate 50

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Meit Odotellaan Mullan Alla

Jos me tuhat jalkaa alas tst
mahduttaisiin matkustamaan,
niin me emme estyis lytmst
vke tuon puoleisen maan.
Miksi prskyy tulivuoret,
maan kuoret repeill saa?
Kas, Tuonelasta ikinuoret
itsestn niin ilmoittaa.
Ne meteli pit.
Vaan l virka mitn -
joskushan rikkoontuu rajat,
kun juhlii vainajat
Sill
Meit odotellaan mullan alla -
meit odotellaan siell, odotellaan siell,
ja vaikka moni odottaa innokkaasti
niin ei menn ihan viel, eip menn ihan viel.
Ei ennen kuin on aika
Ei, ei, ei, ei.
Kokee vanha Bob -set
Tuonen virroilla verkkoja nyt.
Pian tytt lastia vene vet,
aamuy on hiljentynyt,
ja illan tullen iloa pit:
soitto, laulu, tanssi ei lakkaa...
jos katkee ksi, ei tee mitn:
hn reisiluilla tahtia hakkaa,
hn hakkaa vaikka viiteen,
sitten painuu Hiiteen,
ja muutamat menkn
pern huomenna,
Sill
Meit odotellaan...
Vaan kun viimein vitkaan astun,
enk ehdi kohtaloa karkuun
m mustaan kuoppaan kompastun.
Pappi siunaa minut ja arkun, ja
hn viittoo virsitauluun.
Silloin laulan kanssanne
soraa suussa
viel yhden laulun:
Meit odotellaan mullan alla...

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Ihana Elm

M vetelehdin jossain kuun alla
kun lauloi ni galaksien kaikkivallan:
"Tokihan tll maleksia saa,
vaan etk tahtois maapallolla mys matkustaa?
Siis olkoon sinun tm tie,
joka vie miten kuten minne lie..."
Niin m kvin kiinni pyydyksiin,
vuosikymmeniini muutamiin.
Ne edess laulelin lapsivedess
la la la la la la la la,
la la la la la la la la,
tm siis on elm?
A-haa...
Kun katsoo kauas historian taa,
on riveiss vain monen sorttista elukkaa:
juodaan savua ja spriit;
sydn, kun ollaan kanveesiin kaatumassa kesken ottelun...
No mits m muuten noista elukoista
jollen peiliss nkis samanmoista
Niin m kvin kiinni pyydyksiin;
vuosikummeniini muutamiin,
joissa lauleskellaan juottoloissa
la la la la la la la la...
Ja mulla on vain mun moottorisuu
vaan naapurin neidolla on sen persikkapuu.
Jos kumoon neidon pystyn puhumaan,
saan kiintymyksen, persikat ja perintmaan.
No, mits m muuten nosita persikoista,
muttei tuollaista paria lie toista?
Niin m kvin kiinni pyydyksiin;
vuosikymmeniini muutamiin,
joissa lauleskellan lakanoissa
la la la la la la la la...
Kuin hullut heittydytn alati uuteen
kielet rautakaiteissa, naamat rss...
Kun vh jrkikin on ammuttu avaruuteen,
ukkokodissa horistaan housut pss.
Ja niin m kvin kiinni pyydyksiin,
vuosikymmeniini muutamiin...
ja jlkeen sen avaruuden komeroissa,
elmnura takana,
laulelee kaukana poissa positiivinen pakana.
la la la la la la la la...
Tm on siis elm?

song performed by YUP
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Beelsebub Ei Nuku Koskaan

Joskus iden tunteina
voi varmasti sen aistia
ettei ole yksin.
Kaikki tss huoneessa
ehk' ei paljastu kerralla siis
varaudu ylltyksiin.
Ja tee mit teet,
kunhan muistat vaan.
Vanha Beelsebub ei
nuku koskaan.
Ei nuku koskaan.
Kun kiltit idin kiltit ist
kiltit lapset nukkumaan
peitelty on saateltu on
hyhen saarten satamaan.
Niin varjoista esiin ontuu
katalia kulkijoita
siis tuskin turhaan heist kukaan
tarkkailee taivaita noita.
Kun musta pilvi seurailee
yll kulkee liikahtaa
kaiken muistiin kirjoittaa
vain punakyn kiiruhtaa.
Aivan.
Niin kaupunki nukkuu
kristityn untaan
vaan vanha Beelsebub ei
nuku koskaan
Ja kuolevaiset kuten me
ilman yn unta uuvumme
yht vain uni ei paina
yksi unta valvoo aina.
Puoli vartaloa vallan
ikneidollamme on
tuolla paremmalla puolen
pihan roskalaatikon.
Naapureidensa elm
kovin rouvaa kiinnostaa
mutta jokin mys hnen
taivaltansa varjostaa.
Kun musta pilvi seurailee
yll kulkee kiinni saa
pilvest suuri nyrkki
kunnotonta kumauttaa.
Aivan.
Niin tee mit teet,
kunhan muistat vaan.
Vanha Beelsebub ei
nuku koskaan.
Ja kukapa tiet

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song performed by YUP
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Metamorphoses: Book The Third

WHEN now Agenor had his daughter lost,
He sent his son to search on ev'ry coast;
And sternly bid him to his arms restore
The darling maid, or see his face no more,
But live an exile in a foreign clime;
Thus was the father pious to a crime.
The Story of The restless youth search'd all the world around;
of Cadmus But how can Jove in his amours be found?
When, tir'd at length with unsuccessful toil,
To shun his angry sire and native soil,
He goes a suppliant to the Delphick dome;
There asks the God what new appointed home
Should end his wand'rings, and his toils relieve.
The Delphick oracles this answer give.
"Behold among the fields a lonely cow,
Unworn with yokes, unbroken to the plow;
Mark well the place where first she lays her down,
There measure out thy walls, and build thy town,
And from thy guide Boeotia call the land,
In which the destin'd walls and town shall stand."
No sooner had he left the dark abode,
Big with the promise of the Delphick God,
When in the fields the fatal cow he view'd,
Nor gall'd with yokes, nor worn with servitude:
Her gently at a distance he pursu'd;
And as he walk'd aloof, in silence pray'd
To the great Pow'r whose counsels he obey'd.
Her way thro' flow'ry Panope she took,
And now, Cephisus, cross'd thy silver brook;
When to the Heav'ns her spacious front she rais'd,
And bellow'd thrice, then backward turning gaz'd
On those behind, 'till on the destin'd place
She stoop'd, and couch'd amid the rising grass.
Cadmus salutes the soil, and gladly hails
The new-found mountains, and the nameless vales,
And thanks the Gods, and turns about his eye
To see his new dominions round him lye;
Then sends his servants to a neighb'ring grove
For living streams, a sacrifice to Jove.
O'er the wide plain there rose a shady wood
Of aged trees; in its dark bosom stood
A bushy thicket, pathless and unworn,
O'er-run with brambles, and perplex'd with thorn:
Amidst the brake a hollow den was found,
With rocks and shelving arches vaulted round.
Deep in the dreary den, conceal'd from day,
Sacred to Mars, a mighty dragon lay,
Bloated with poison to a monstrous size;
Fire broke in flashes when he glanc'd his eyes:
His tow'ring crest was glorious to behold,

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poem by Ovid
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Alla Jalavapuun

puistikon laidalla, jalavan alla
kesisen pivn kohdattiin:
liversi leivo pankin ikkunalla,
syreenit suloiset tuoksuivat niin.
kadulla Corollaa pidin ness,
kun sin, lintuni, pankkiin menit...
kiinnitin tekoparran eteisess.
sireenit soivat, tuoksui syreenit...
vaan nyt tuo kaikki on kaukaista aivan:
emme en kaappaajina astu laivaan,
en en konepistoolitulella reittisi raivaa
aamussa suven taivaan.
kerran vain kohdataan:
alla hirsipuun.
niin oli hanget ja jrkesi jss,
paljastit kuprumme suunnitellun!
joku laverteli Suomen pss!
-ainakin siit kerrasta, kun
puistikon laidalla, jalavan alla
kesisen pivn kohdattiin:
liversi leivo pankin ikkunalla,
syreenit suloiset tuoksuivat niin

song performed by YUP
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Paratiisi (Ville Valo And The Agents)

Kun m sinut kohtasin oli ilta ihanin linnut
lauloi ja kimmelsi taivaan kuu
Sin sanoit menkmme maalle meidn landelle.
mietin, nyt juttu t onnistuu
Perille kun saavuttiin kukat kukki tuoksui niin
meri vaahtosi kuin olut kuohuaa
Heti rantaan kuljettiin liiat kuteet riisuttiin,
oli tunnelma niin huumaavaa.
Oi jos sulle voisin antaa kaikkein kauneimman
tmn maailmani pallon valtavan
mutta enhn sit tee
pieni hetki riittnee
kun sun vierellsi nin olla saan
Varret yhteen kiedottiin, hiekka tarttui
varpaisiin,
meren kiihken rytmiin kun vaivutiin
pient huulta heitit kai, suoraan suusta suuhun
vain,
nist aikuiset puhuu kuiskuttain
Oi jos

song performed by H.I.M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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