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Nora El Nora

Nora El Nora, ne'ezar begvura shuvi elay malki
Dodi refa, nafshi nichsefa, lebeitach malchi
Nora El Nora, ne'ezar begvura
Nora Ashira, Lach akabira, shir mahalali
Lecha etna menat chevly vegoraly
Bekol zman azor el nora, geza avraham, netzer tifa'ara,
Ata el hai noten torah
[Translation:]
Nora El Nora, the lord of courage
Return me my lord, mend my wounds,
my soul is yearning, and in valor we wait.
Nora i sing thee, a hymn of praise,
to you I give my life and faith
Through all time, mighty Nora,
deliver us progeny of Abraham,
Offspring of greantess,
you are the libing God,
giver of Torah

song performed by Orphaned Land
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hesitating Beauty

For your sparkling cocky smile I've walked a million miles
Begging you to come and wed me in the spring
Why do you my dear delay
What makes you laugh and turn away
You're a hesitating beauty, Nora Lee
Well I know that you are itching to get married, Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing, Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we could spend our lives in love
You're a hesitating beauty, Nora Lee
We can build a house and home where the flowers come to bloom
Around our yard I'll nail a fence so high
That the boys with peeping eyes cannot see that angel face
My hesitating beauty Nora Lee
Well I know that you are itching to get married Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we can spend our lives in love
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee
We can ramble hand in hand across the grasses of our land
I'll kiss you for each leaf on every tree
We can bring our kids to play where the dry leaves blow today
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee
Well I know that you are itching to get married, Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing, Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we could spend our lives in love
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee

song performed by Wilco
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lesbia Hath a Beaming Eye

Lesbia hath a beaming eye,
But no one knows for whom it beameth;
Right and left its arrows fly,
But what they aim at no one dreameth.
Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon
My Nora's lid that seldom rises;
Few its looks, but every one,
Like unexpected light, surprises!
Oh, my Nora Creina, dear,
My gentle, bashful Nora Creina,
Beauty lies
In many eyes,
But Love in yours, my Nora Creina.

Lesbia wears a robe of gold,
But all so close the nymph hath laced it,
Not a charm of beauty's mould
Presumes to stay where Nature placed it.
Oh! my Nora's gown for me,
That floats as wild as mountain breezes,
Leaving every beauty free
To sink or swell as Heaven pleases.
Yes, my Nora Creina, dear,
My simple, graceful Nora Creina,
Nature's dress
Is loveliness --
The dress you wear, my Nora Creina.

Lesbia hath a wit refined,
But, when its points are gleaning round us,
Who can tell if they're design'd
To dazzle merely, or to wound us?
Pillow'd on my Nora's heart,
In safer slumber Love reposes --
Bed of peace! whose roughest part
Is but the crumpling of the roses.
Oh! my Nora Creina, dear,
My mild, my artless Nora Creina!
Wit, though bright,
Hath no such light
As warms your eyes, my Nora Creina.

poem by Thomas Moore
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Come beauty come/ Dodi ljepoto dodi

The moon hurtful beyond the earth
Biting the midnight hour
Spills the quivering made of light
To summon the whole into a song
Come beauty come
The night is never old

The sunlit glow beyond the earth
Burning the desert soil
Spills the quivering made of light
To summon the whole into a song
Come beauty come
The day is never old

The waters below the roar of the sky
Soothed in a dropp through the sea
Spills the quivering made of light
To summon the whole into a song
Come beauty come
The ocean is never old

The air the seal of breathing
Rising the circles through the wind
Spills the quivering made of light
To summon the whole into a song
Come beauty come
For life is never old

Mjesec bolan nad zemljom
Što grize ponocni sat
Prosipa drhtaj od svjetla
Dodi ljepoto dodji
Noc ne stari nikad

I suncev sjaj nad zemljom
Što morem se slegnu u kap
Prosipa drhtaj od svjetla
Da prizove sve u poj
Dodi ljepoto dodji
Dan ne stari nikad

Vode pod hukom neba
Što morem se slegnu u kap
Prospu drhtaj od svjetla
Da prozovu sve u poj
Dodi ljepoto dodji
Okean ne stari nikad

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My Nora

Beneath the gold acacia buds
My gentle Nora sits and broods,
Far, far away in Boston woods
My gentle Nora!

I see the tear-drop in her e'e,
Her bosom's heaving tenderly;
I know—I know she thinks of me,
My Darling Nora!

And where am I? My love, whilst thou
Sitt'st sad beneath the acacia bough,
Where pearl's on neck, and wreath on brow,
I stand, my Nora!

Mid carcanet and coronet,
Where joy-lamps shine and flowers are set—
Where England's chivalry are met,
Behold me, Nora!

In this strange scene of revelry,
Amidst this gorgeous chivalry,
A form I saw was like to thee,
My love—my Nora!

She paused amidst her converse glad;
The lady saw that I was sad,
She pitied the poor lonely lad,—
Dost love her, Nora?

In sooth, she is a lovely dame,
A lip of red, and eye of flame,
And clustering golden locks, the same
As thine, dear Nora?

Her glance is softer than the dawn's,
Her foot is lighter than the fawn's,
Her breast is whiter than the swan's,
Or thine, my Nora!

Oh, gentle breast to pity me!
Oh, lovely Ladye Emily!
Till death—till death I'll think of thee—
Of thee and Nora!

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Kirya

KIRYA YAFEFIAH MASOS LE'ARAYICH
KIRYA YAFEFIAH MASOS LE'ARAYICH
IR NE MANA'AT LE MALKECH VE'SARAYICH
IR NE MANA'AT LE MALKECH VE'SARAYICH
YOM EZ KERA YIFAT RABAT SEVA'AYICH
YOM EZ KERA YIFAT RABAT SEVA'AYICH
LACH KA LE'TA NAFSHI LISHKON HA'SERAYICH
LACH KA LE'TA NAFSHI LISHKON HA'SERAYICH
KIRYA YAFEFIAH
MI'OD YID MALACH MI
MI'OD YID MALACH MI
MI'OD YID MALACH MI
YOM, YOM NOF LIMBANIM
YOM, YOM NOF LIMBANIM
IR NE MANA'AT LE MALKECH VE'SARAYICH
IR NE MANA'AT LE MALKECH VE'SARAYICH
KIRYA YAFEFIAH MASOS LE'ARAYICH
MI'OD YID MALACH MI
MI'OD YID MALACH MI
YOM, YOM NOF LIMBANIM
YOM, YOM NOF LIMBANIM
KIRYA YAFEFIAH

song performed by Ofra Haza
Added by Lucian Velea
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Queen of Spades

Death of Diana, Princess of Wales
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The entrance to the Pont de l'Alma tunnel, the site where Diana was fatally injured.On August 31,1997, Diana, Princess of Wales, died as a result of injuries sustained in a car collision in the Pont de l'Alma road tunnel in Paris, France. Her companion, Dodi Fayed, and the driver of the Mercedes-Benz W140, Henri Paul, were pronounced dead at the scene of the accident. Fayed's bodyguard, Trevor Rees-Jones, was the only survivor. Although early on the media pinned the blame on the paparazzi, the crash was ultimately found to be caused by the reckless actions of the chauffeur, who was the head of security at the Ritz and had earlier goaded the paparazzi waiting outside the hotel. An eighteen-month French judicial investigation concluded in 1999 that the crash was caused by Henri Paul, who lost control of the car at high speed while under the influence of alcohol, which may have been made worse by the simultaneous presence of an antidepressant and traces of a tranquilizer in his body Since February 1998, Dodi's father, Mohamed Al-Fayed (the owner of the Hôtel Ritz, for which Paul worked) has claimed that the crash was a result of a conspiracy, and later contended that the crash was orchestrated by MI6 on the instructions of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh.His claims that the crash was a result of a conspiracy were dismissed by a French judicial investigation and by Operation Paget, a Metropolitan police inquiry that concluded in 2006.An inquest headed by LJ Scott Baker into the deaths of Diana and Dodi began at the Royal Courts of Justice, London, on October 2 2007 and was a continuation of the original inquest that began in 2004.On 7 April 2008, the jury released an official statement that Diana and Dodi were unlawfully killed by the grossly negligent driving of chauffeur Henri Paul and the paparazzi.Though the official verdict implicated the pursuing vehicles, the jury also named the intoxication of the driver and the victims' decisions to not wear seat-belts as contributing factors to their deaths. Additionally, the Mercedes had been traveling at over twice the legal speed limit of that particular section of road and had long since left the paparazzi vehicles far behind by the time the accident occurred.

Old *Cambrians play cards
On a Mahogany table,
And the trump Queen of Spades's missing
A sober one of the players
Found the Queen's hiding under the table
And she mutters; ' I didn't kill Princess Diana! '

* Cambrians; Those who studied at Prince of Wale's College, Moratuwa, Sri Lanka.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Fr Dich

Ich spr' Dich in meinen Trumen
Ich schlie' Dich darin ein
Und ich werd' immer bei Dir sein
Ich halt' Dich wie den Regenbogen
Ganz fest am Horizont
Weil mit Dir der Morgen wieder kommt
Fr Dich schiebe ich die Wolken weiter
Sonst siehst Du den Sternenhimmel nicht
Fr Dich dreh' ich so lang an der Erde
Bis Du wieder bei mir bist
Fr Dich mach' ich jeden Tag unendlich
Fr Dich bin ich noch heller als das Licht
Fr Dich wein' und schrei' und lach' und leb' ich
Und das alles nur fr Dich
Und wenn ich Dich so vermisse
Bewahr' ich die Trnen auf fr Dich
Du machst ein Lachen draus fr mich
Ich hr' Dich ganz ohne Worte
Ich fhle, wo Du bist
Auch wenn es noch so dunkel ist
Fr Dich schiebe ich die Wolken weiter
Sonst siehst du den Sternenhimmel nicht
Fr Dich dreh' ich so lang an der Erde
Bis du wieder bei mir bist
Fr Dich mach' ich jeden Tag unendlich
Fr Dich bin ich noch heller als das Licht
Fr Dich wein' und schrei' und lach' und leb' ich
Und das alles nur fr Dich
Fr Dich schiebe ich die Wolken weiter
Sonst siehst du den Sternenhimmel nicht
Fr Dich dreh' ich so lang an der Erde
Bis du wieder bei mir bist
Fr Dich mach' ich jeden Tag unendlich
Fr Dich bin ich noch heller als das Licht
Fr Dich wein' und schrei' und lach' und leb' ich
Und das alles nur fr Dich
Fr Dich schiebe ich die Wolken weiter
Sonst siehst du den Sternenhimmel nicht
Fr Dich wein' und schrei' und lach' und leb' ich
Nur fr Dich

song performed by Yvonne Catterfeld
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ride Of Rody Burke

The heat haze veiled the distant hills, the white clouds floated high,
Drifting in slow content across the blue Australian sky;
And down in Clancy’s paddock there were mirth and laughter gay,
Where the She-Oak Jockey Club were met upon St. Patrick’s day.

There were carts and cars and buggies ranged beneath the spreading trees,
Where country folk for miles around were clustered thick as bees,
Watching the prancing horses pass with keen appraising eyes,
All out to win the Squatters’ Cup, the hundred-guinea prize.

Jim Daintry on The Digger rose; hopes for his mount were high,
A gallant roan with swinging pace, game head and fiery eye,
And Jim’s horse was the favourite, the betting there was keen,
But some were backing Rody Burke upon Dark Rosaleen.

A thing of velvet, fire and steel-a little dark brown mare,
With dainty legs and shoulders slant, lean head and high-bred air,
But knowing backers simply scoffed her chances of the race,
“She’ll never see his heels when once The Digger sets the pace.”

‘Twas just before the starting time that Rody reached the course,
And little Nora Shanahan watched for the dark brown horse,
And sighed to mark the rider’s face was white as if with pain,
Could Rody after all her prayers, be ‘going wild’ again?

How could she know that very morn as Rody cross the yard
The old white draught-horse lumbering by, had lashed out good and hard.
The broken ribs, the searing pain that caught his breath away—
Ah! Naught but Irish pluck and grit brought Rody there that day.

As he and Jim rose side by side, each cast a wistful eye
Where little Nora Shanahan looked on aloof and shy;
And each man thrilled at sight of her, the simple girlish grace,
The little kind brown hands of her, the apple-blossom face.

Rivals were they in sport and love, and yet good friends withal,
Whose true Australian mateship held no feeling mean or small,
And Nora, long her maiden heart had done an angels’ work,
With tears and prayers to save the soul of reckless Rody Burke.

Jim Daintry, manly, straight and true, had spreading acres wide,
And any girl in she-Oak might be proud to be his bride,
But who shall read a woman’s heart, or pierce its hidden screen,
Sweet Nora’s hopes were on the track with Rod and Rosaleen.

They’re off! A rush of flying hoofs, a blur of colours bright –
Tim Clancy’s Skylark in the lead, The Digger well in sight,
Dark Rosaleen leads the bunch behind, nor falters in her stride,
While Rody bears with sobbing breath the torture in his side.

[...] Read more

poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Nora, the Maid of Killarney

Down by the beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
Off times I have met my own dear Barney,
In the sweet summer time of the year,
In the silvery moonlight so clear,
I've rambled with my sweetheart Barney,
Along the green banks of the Lakes of Killarney.

The Lakes of Killarney are most lovely to be seen
In the summer season when nature's face is green,
Especially in the beautiful silvery moonlight,
When its waters do shine like silver bright;
Such was the time when me and my Barney
Went to walk by the purty Lakes of Killarney.

My Barney was beautiful, gallant, and gay,
But, alas, he has left me and gone far away,
To that foreign country called Amerikay;
But when he returns we will get married without delay,
And again we will roam by the Lakes of Killarney,
Me and my sweetheart, charming Barney.

And until he returns I will feel rather sad,
For while walking with Barney I always felt glad;
May God send him home again safe to me,
And he will fill my sad heart with glee,
While we walk by the Lakes of Killarney.

I dreamt one night I was walking with Barney,
Down by the beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
And he said, "Nora, dear Nora, don't fret for me,
For I will soon come home to thee;
And I will build a nice cabin near the Lakes of Killarney,
And Nora will live happy with her own dear Barney."

But, alas, I awoke from my beautiful dream,
For, och, if was a most lovely scene;
But I hope it will happen some unexpected day,
When Barney comes home from Amerikay;
Then Barney will relate his adventures to me,
As we walk by the silvery Lakes of Killarney.

We will ramble among its green trees and green bushes,
And hear the sweet songs of the blackbirds and thrushes,
And gaze on its lovely banks so green,
And its waters glittering like crystal in the moonlight's sheen;
Och! how I long to be walking with Barney,
Along the green banks of the Lakes of Killarney.

Of all the spots in Ireland, Killarney for me,
For 'twas there I first met my dear Barney:

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Nora on the Pavement

As Nora on the pavement
Dances, and she entrances the grey hour
Into the laughing circle of her power,
The magic circle of her glances,
As Nora dances on the midnight pavement;

Petulant and bewildered,
Thronging desires and longing looks recur,
And memorably re-incarnate her,
As I remember that old longing,
A footlight fancy, petulant and bewildered;

There where the ballet circles,
See her, but ah! not free her from the race
Of glittering lines that link and interlace;
This colour now, now that, may be her,
In the bright web of those harmonious circles.

But what are these dance-measures,
Leaping and joyous, keeping time alone
With Life's capricious rhythm, and all her own,
Life's rhythm and hers, long sleeping,
That wakes, and knows not why, in these dance-measures?

It is the very Nora;
Child, and most blithe, and wild as any elf,
And innocently spendthrift of herself,
And guileless and most unbeguiled,
Herself at last, leaps free the very Nora.

It is the soul of Nora,
Living at last, and giving forth to the night,
Bird-like, the burden of its own delight,
All its desire, and all the joy of living,
In that blithe madness of the soul of Nora.

poem by Arthur Symons
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Nora: A Serenade

AH, Nora, my Nora, the light fades away,
While Night like a spirit steals up o'er the hills;
The thrash from his tree where he chanted all day,
No longer his music in ecstasy trills.
Then, Nora, be near me; thy presence doth cheer me,
Thine eye hath a gleam that is truer than gold.
I cannot but love thee; so do not reprove me,
If the strength of my passion should make me too bold.
Nora, pride of my heart,—
Rosy cheeks, cherry lips, sparkling with glee,—
Wake from thy slumbers, wherever thou art;
Wake from thy slumbers to me.
Ah, Nora, my Nora, there's love in the air,—
It stirs in the numbers that thrill in my brain;
Oh, sweet, sweet is love with its mingling of care,
Though joy travels only a step before pain.
Be roused from thy slumbers and list to my numbers;
My heart is poured out in this song unto thee.
Oh, be thou not cruel, thou treasure, thou jewel;
Turn thine ear to my pleading and hearken to me.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Wenn Du Lachst, Lacht Das Glck

Du bist schoen, wenn du lachst sally sunshine, denn das macht auch die regentage schoen
Ich hab's gern, wenn du lachst, weil mich das gluecklich macht
Und ich freu' mich darauf, wenn wir uns seh'n
Hab' ich streit irgendwann, sally sunshine, dann erzaehl' ich dir alles ganz genau
Dann verziehst du den mund und du sagst mir den grund
Ich lach' mit und schon ist der himmel blau
(refr.:)
Wenn du lachst, lacht das glueck, sally sunshine
Und die welt hat dann gleich ein sonntagskleid
Wenn du lachst, lach' ich mit, oh, sally sunshine
Das ganze leben, das wird dann kinderleicht
Hab' den bus ich verpasst, sally sunshine, und der zweite kommt ganz bestimmt zu spaet
Dann fahr' ich, aus der haut und du lachst dann ganz laut
Ich lach' mit, weil es gar nicht anders geht

song performed by Cliff Richard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wenn Du Lachst, Lacht Das Glueck

Du bist schoen, wenn du lachst sally sunshine, denn das macht auch die regentage schoen
Ich habs gern, wenn du lachst, weil mich das gluecklich macht
Und ich freu mich darauf, wenn wir uns sehn
Hab ich streit irgendwann, sally sunshine, dann erzaehl ich dir alles ganz genau
Dann verziehst du den mund und du sagst mir den grund
Ich lach mit und schon ist der himmel blau
(refr.:)
Wenn du lachst, lacht das glueck, sally sunshine
Und die welt hat dann gleich ein sonntagskleid
Wenn du lachst, lach ich mit, oh, sally sunshine
Das ganze leben, das wird dann kinderleicht
Hab den bus ich verpasst, sally sunshine, und der zweite kommt ganz bestimmt zu spaet
Dann fahr ich, aus der haut und du lachst dann ganz laut
Ich lach mit, weil es gar nicht anders geht

song performed by Cliff Richard
Added by Lucian Velea
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When Rody Came To Ironbark

When Rody came to Ironbark, there spread a hectic glow
around the little township - a dozen years ago,
and the townsfolk were divided, twixt laughter and dismay
at the roysterin' ways of Rody - the madcap tricks he'd play.
When whisky-primed and mischief bent, he drove in wild career
the parson's sulky hitched behind O'Grady's brindled steer,
and he, and other reckless lads, with laughter, song and joke,
made life on earth a burden for all sober-minded folk.

When Rody came to Ironbark, 'twas fun to watch the girls,
Such sorting out of frills and frocks such pinning up of curls,
there were no 'bob's no 'shingles' then but ringlets floated down,
and the the curling tongs worked overtime, when Rody came to town.

And all the girls in Ironbark for Rody pined and sighed,
save little Nora Shanahan, all scorn and maiden pride,
(Now Rod was like a pine-tree, so straight and slim and tall,
but she was pink and dainty, as an apple-blossom small).

She captured Rody's wilful heart, but though he'd beg and pray,
not one soft word of hope or love would little Nora say;
but - how she prayed for Rody, she stormed high Heaven with tears
for all his sins and follies, his reckless wasted years.

In the little township chapel, when evening lights were faint,
she knelt long hours in silence - a little blue-eyed saint -
While Rody, all unknowing, went on his careless way;
but Heaven always answers when soul's like Nora's pray.

So Rody came to Ironbark proud, prosperous and neat -
a dozen hats are lifted as he drives along the street -
and Nora sits beside him, all calm and matronly;
there are four small folk behind them, and one on Nora's knee
(The boys are both like Rody - so straight and strong and tall-
but the girls are like a cluster of apple-blossoms small),
though the wild lads muse regretfully the good old days upon,
and all the township gossips say 'Another good man gone!'

poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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The Irish Convict's Return

Ye mountains and glens of Old Ireland,
I've returned home to ye again;
During my absence from ye
My heart always felt great pain.

Oh, how I long'd to see you dear Nora,
And the old folks at home;
And the beautiful Lakes o' Killarney,
Where we oft together did roam.

Ye beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
Ye are welcome to me again;
I will now reform my character,
And from all bad company refrain.

Oh, how I have long'd to see my old father
And my mother dearer than all;
And my favourite dog Charlie
That wont to come at my call.

Ye green hills and lakes of Old Ireland,
Ye are dearer than life unto me;
Many sleepless nights I have had
Since my banishment from thee.

But to-night I will see the old folks
And my dear Nora too ...
And she and I will get married,
And I'm sure we will never rue.

And we may have plenty of children,
And for them I will work like a man.
And I hope Nora and I will live happy,
And do the best we can.

For my own part, I will never grumble,
But try and be content ...
And walk in the paths of virtue,
And remember my banishment.

And at night at the fireside with Nora,
I will tell her of my limbs being bound,
And all my great hardships endured,
And how I was lash'd like a hound.

And when my story is ended,
Nora will sympathise with her tears,
Which will help to drown my sorrow,
And help me through coming years.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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His Work Is His Poem

HIS WORK IS HIS POEM

His work is his poem
And if he does not write
He has not earned his rest.

Thus these meager lines
Written before Shabbat
So his soul may sing ‘Lecha Dodi’
freely.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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La Plainte du Cyclope

« Toi qui dans l’air léger lances d’un souffle pur
La chanson de ta flûte en gammes vers l’azur
Et qui, longtemps assis devant la mer sacrée,
L’admires, tour à tour, rose à peine ou pourprée,
Quand le soleil se lève ou tombe à l’horizon ;
O toi, qui, pour rentrer, le soir, en ta maison,
Suis ce sentier charmant qui va par la prairie
Et qui s’arrête au seuil de ta porte fleurie,
Sache au moins être heureux de ta félicité
Et combien purs et beaux tes jours auront été,
Car ton chien est fidèle et ton troupeau docile,
Et tu peux oublier que la verte Sicile,
Sous ses blés jaunissants et ses hautes forêts,
En son sein ténébreux cache un obscur secret ;
Mais, dans le ciel noirci que son sommet embrume,
Regarde quelquefois, au loin, l’Etna qui fume,
Et, quelquefois aussi, lorsque tu t’en reviens,
Laisse aller devant toi tes chèvres et ton chien ;
Couche-toi sur le sol et pose ton oreille
Contre terre. Entends-tu, qui, peu à peu, s’éveille
Et qui gémit et gronde avec un bruit d’airain,
La sonore rumeur d’un écho souterrain ?

« C’est nous qui, sous la terre émue à notre haleine,
En cadence frappons l’enclume souterraine
Dont l’Etna porte au ciel la nocturne lueur.
Nous sommes là, couverts d’une chaude sueur,
Occupés dans la nuit furieuse et sans astres
A fondre le métal que nos marteaux vont battre.
Il court, fusible et clair, s’allonge et s’étrécit ;
Brûlant, il étincelle, et froid, il se durcit.
La flamboyante orgie éclate. L’on est ivre
De l’arôme du fer et de l’odeur du cuivre.
Voici de l’or qui fond et de l’argent qui bout ;
L’alliage subtil les mêle en un seul tout.

Notre peuple travaille, accouple, unit et forge !
La colère à forger nous saisit à la gorge
Et nous gonfle le muscle et nous brûle le sang.
Notre souffle inégal suit notre bras puissant,
Car, de tout ce métal qu’il martèle sans trêve,
S’aiguisent par milliers les lances et les glaives,
Et la bataille sort de notre antre guerrier.
Notre œil unique, c’est ton orbe, ô bouclier !
Et nos torses fumants que la scorie encrasse
Ont servi de modèle à mouler la cuirasse,
Et c’est nous, de qui l’œuvre obscur et souterrain
Pour la ville aux dieux d’or fait des portes d’airain.

« Condamnés à la nuit, Cyclopes, nous aurions,

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poem by Henri de Regnier
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Book Eleventh: France [concluded]

FROM that time forth, Authority in France
Put on a milder face; Terror had ceased,
Yet everything was wanting that might give
Courage to them who looked for good by light
Of rational Experience, for the shoots
And hopeful blossoms of a second spring:
Yet, in me, confidence was unimpaired;
The Senate's language, and the public acts
And measures of the Government, though both
Weak, and of heartless omen, had not power
To daunt me; in the People was my trust:
And, in the virtues which mine eyes had seen,
I knew that wound external could not take
Life from the young Republic; that new foes
Would only follow, in the path of shame,
Their brethren, and her triumphs be in the end
Great, universal, irresistible.
This intuition led me to confound
One victory with another, higher far,--
Triumphs of unambitious peace at home,
And noiseless fortitude. Beholding still
Resistance strong as heretofore, I thought
That what was in degree the same was likewise
The same in quality,--that, as the worse
Of the two spirits then at strife remained
Untired, the better, surely, would preserve
The heart that first had roused him. Youth maintains,
In all conditions of society,
Communion more direct and intimate
With Nature,--hence, ofttimes, with reason too--
Than age or manhood, even. To Nature, then,
Power had reverted: habit, custom, law,
Had left an interregnum's open space
For 'her' to move about in, uncontrolled.
Hence could I see how Babel-like their task,
Who, by the recent deluge stupified,
With their whole souls went culling from the day
Its petty promises, to build a tower
For their own safety; laughed with my compeers
At gravest heads, by enmity to France
Distempered, till they found, in every blast
Forced from the street-disturbing newsman's horn,
For her great cause record or prophecy
Of utter ruin. How might we believe
That wisdom could, in any shape, come near
Men clinging to delusions so insane?
And thus, experience proving that no few
Of our opinions had been just, we took
Like credit to ourselves where less was due,
And thought that other notions were as sound

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poem by William Wordsworth
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Norra El Norra (Entering The Ark)

Norra El Norra (Entering The Ark)
???? ?? ???? ???? ?????? ???? ??? ????
???? ???, ???? ??????, ????? ????
???? ?? ????, ???? ??????
???? ?????, ?? ??????, ??? ?????
?? ???? ??? ????
???? ??? ???? ?? ????, ??? ?????, ??? ?????,
??? ?? ?? ???? ????
Translation:Nora El Nora, the lord of courage,
Return to me my lord, men my wounds,
my soul is yerning, and in valor we wait.
Nora I sing to thee, hymn of praise,
to you I give my life and faith
Through all time, mighty Nora,
deliver us the progany of abraham,
Offspring of greatness,
you are the living God,
giver of Torah.

song performed by Orphaned Land
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rose Of Flora

On Brady's tower there grows a flower,
It is the loveliest flower that blows,—
At Castle Brady there lives a lady,
(And how I love her no one knows);
Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora
Presents her with this blooming rose.

'O Lady Nora,' says the goddess Flora,
'I've many a rich and bright parterre;
In Brady's towers there's seven more flowers,
But you're the fairest lady there:
Not all the county, nor Ireland's bounty,
Can projuice a treasure that's half so fair!'

What cheek is redder? sure roses fed her!
Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew.
Beneath her eyelid, is like the vi'let,
That darkly glistens with gentle jew!
The lily's nature is not surely whiter
Than Nora's neck is,—and her arrums too.

'Come, gentle Nora,' says the goddess Flora,
My dearest creature, take my advice,
There is a poet, full well you know it,
Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs,—
Young Redmond Barry, 'tis him you'll marry,
If rhyme and raisin you'd choose likewise.'

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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