who cares? its what a lot of the world speak, and im fine with that, you find global communication boaring? okay i live now, and not 100+ years ago, my mind isnt bound with useless traditions, if english wasnt "forced" on us, then we would be learning it in school from an early age, coz no body in the planet but us, would be speaking irish..
yep! but more that that i would like if this country didnt force this language upon, kids in school. what a waste, when they could be learning something useful insted of sentimental. and dont get me started on religion in school
two towers, thats the full version from the book, the poem is based on the saxon poem called "the wanderer"
Where is the horse gone? Where the rider? Where the giver of treasure? Where are the seats at the feast? Where are the revels in the hall? Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior! Alas for the splendour of the prince! How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it had never been! Now there stands in the trace of the beloved troop a wall, wondrously high, wound round with serpents. The warriors taken off by the glory of spears, the weapons greedy for slaughter, the famous fate (turn of events), and storms beat these rocky cliffs, falling frost fetters the earth, the harbinger of winter; Then dark comes, nightshadows deepen, from the north there comes a rough hailstorm in malice against men. All is troublesome in this earthly kingdom, the turn of events changes the world under the heavens. Here money is fleeting, here friend is fleeting, here man is fleeting, here kinsman is fleeting, all the foundation of this world turns to waste!
Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing? Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing? Where is the spring and the harvest and the corn growing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow; The days have gone down in the West, behind the hills, into shadow. Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning, Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?
being a real man is about sending threating letters to chucknorris, weather you then hide behind the couch for a week, in no way negates your manlyness..
a person has noting to do with how they are preceived by others? well to some extent thats a false statement, we are after all responsible for are own actions..
"ya girl" was just a joke mate
but love poems? how about war poems, if poems are your pleasure
RE: An bhfuil aon duine anseo ag leabhart an teanga?
in fairness i hate any ball kicking sports