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Saturday, December 10, 2011
mataia mataia - Peggy Zina
Ποια λέξη ενώνει τα χείλη
σ' όσους δηλώνουνε πως είναι απλώς δυο φίλοι
ποια λέξη να πάρω για μάγο
ποια λέξη να σπάσει τον πάγο
Ποια λέξη χωρίς να σε ξέρει
ίσως να μ' άφηνε να σου κρατάω το χέρι
ποια λέξη μπορείς να μαντέψεις
που άμα στην πω ίσως δεν την πιστέψεις
Να σου πω πως σε θέλω
ή να είμαστε φίλοι
να σου πω πως πεθαίνω
ή να κάνω πως ζω
Να σου πω πως σε θέλω
ή σφραγίζω τα χείλη
η πιο δύσκολη λέξη
είναι το σ' αγαπώ.
Μάταια, μάταια τα ψέματα
φαίνονται όλα μεσ' τα βλέμματα
μάταια τη φωτιά αρνιόμαστε
πάντοτε μόνοι μας καιγόμαστε
όποια λέξη κι αν πω
όποια λέξη κι αν πω
Ποια λέξη σαν αίνιγμα σκέτο
πίνει μαζί μου και μου αδειάζει το πακέτο
ποια λέξη αν σωπαίνω με πνίγει
που όμως κι αν την πω στη σιωπή καταλήγει
Να σου πω πως σε θέλω
ή να είμαστε φίλοι
να σου πω πως πεθαίνω
ή να κάνω πως ζω
Να σου πω πως σε θέλω
ή σφραγίζω τα χείλη
η πιο δύσκολη λέξη
είναι το σ' αγαπώ.
Μάταια, μάταια τα ψέματα
φαίνονται όλα μεσ' τα βλέμματα
μάταια τη φωτιά αρνιόμαστε
πάντοτε μόνοι μας καιγόμαστε
όποια λέξη κι αν πω
όποια λέξη κι αν πω
Friday, December 9, 2011
Xmas around the world in pictures
http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2010/12/beginning_to_look_a_lot_like_c.html
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The Dreaming Festival
http://www.thedreamingfestival.com/
Woodford Folk Festival is 6 days and nights of pure delight, from December 27th - January 1st. One of Australia's most iconic festivals, Woodford is an annual pilgrimage for tens of thousands of people who come to celebrate the depth and diversity of Australian culture through music, performing arts, street theatre, comedy, circus, workshops, debate, discussion, folk medicine, the Greenhouse venue for the planet, a complete Kid's festival, films, vaudeville, ceremony and ritual.. Set in a lush 500 acre valley called Woodfordia, dedicated to the arts, humanities and the environment, the festival is imbued with an atmosphere coined the Spirit of Woodford.
This event takes place on New Year's Day every year at the Woodford Folk Festival (north of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia). It's the perfect way to say good bye to the old year and welcome the new one. There's a different theme each year and it's nothing short of spectacular.
The Woodford Folk Festival is absolutely amazing!
Woodford Folk Festival is 6 days and nights of pure delight, from December 27th - January 1st. One of Australia's most iconic festivals, Woodford is an annual pilgrimage for tens of thousands of people who come to celebrate the depth and diversity of Australian culture through music, performing arts, street theatre, comedy, circus, workshops, debate, discussion, folk medicine, the Greenhouse venue for the planet, a complete Kid's festival, films, vaudeville, ceremony and ritual.. Set in a lush 500 acre valley called Woodfordia, dedicated to the arts, humanities and the environment, the festival is imbued with an atmosphere coined the Spirit of Woodford.
This event takes place on New Year's Day every year at the Woodford Folk Festival (north of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia). It's the perfect way to say good bye to the old year and welcome the new one. There's a different theme each year and it's nothing short of spectacular.
The Woodford Folk Festival is absolutely amazing!
Monday, December 5, 2011
Killing your dreams - Paulo Coelho
The first symptom of the process of our killing our dreams is the lack of time. The busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough to do everything. Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They complain constantly that the day is too short. The truth is, they are afraid to fight the Good Fight.
The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties. Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those who are engaged in the battle. For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are fighting the Good Fight.
And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give. In that state, we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement. We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life. But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams – we have refused to fight the Good Fight.
When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a short period of tranquility. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being.
We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves. That’s when illnesses and psychoses arise. What we sought to avoid in combat – disappointment and defeat – come upon us because of our cowardice.
And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breathe, and we actually seek death. It’s death that frees us from our certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of our Sunday afternoons
http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2011/02/20/our-dream/
The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties. Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those who are engaged in the battle. For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are fighting the Good Fight.
And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give. In that state, we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement. We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life. But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams – we have refused to fight the Good Fight.
When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a short period of tranquility. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being.
We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves. That’s when illnesses and psychoses arise. What we sought to avoid in combat – disappointment and defeat – come upon us because of our cowardice.
And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breathe, and we actually seek death. It’s death that frees us from our certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of our Sunday afternoons
http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2011/02/20/our-dream/
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Naxa mia kardia akomi - Notis Sfakianakis
Αν δεν σε είχα ερωτευτεί και άν δεν ήσουνα πληγή
Θα 'ταν όλα ίδια, ίδια με το χθές μα ήρθες και με καίς...
Μαζί σου έμαθα πολλά κι έζησα πιο δυνατά...
Έκανα ταξίδια, γνώρισα γκρεμό δίπλα στον Θεό
Ένα τσιγγανάκι είπε πως ο έρωτας με βρήκε στο δικό σου σώμα αγκαλιά...
Είπε να προσέχω όμως, θα 'ναι απότομος ο δρόμος και θα μας σκοτώσει ξαφνικά...
Αν δεν σε είχα ερωτευτεί θα'χε φύγει η ζωή δίχως μιαν αλήθεια...
πάθος μου γλυκό πάντα θα'μαι εδώ...
Ένα τσιγγανάκι είπε πως ο έρωτας με βρήκε στο δικό σου σώμα αγκαλιά...
Είπε να προσέχω όμως θα 'ναι απότομος ο δρόμος και θα μας σκοτώσει ξαφνικά...
Ένα τσιγγανάκι είπε πως ο έρωτας με βρήκε στο δικό σου σώμα αγκαλιά...
Είπε να προσέχω όμως θα 'ναι απότομος ο δρόμος και θα μας σκοτώσει ξαφνικά...
Τον κόσμο πες μου, πως ν' ανατρέψω
και πως ν' αλλάξω παρελθόν...
Που έχω ακόμα σ' όλο το σώμα,
πληγές φιλιά ενός κραγιόν
Φτερά γυρεύω να ταξιδεύω σε καινούριους ουρανούς...
Πόλεις και χώρες, που έχουν τις ώρες και δεν τις φτάνει ούτε νούς...
Ρόλος κομπάρσου ήμουν κοντά σου,
φλέβα που είχε πια κοπεί...
Ισορροπούσα με όσα ζούσα
και μ' όσα δεν μου είχες πει...
Φτερά γυρεύω να ταξιδεύω σε καινούριους ουρανούς...
Πόλεις και χώρες, που έχουν τις ώρες και δεν τις φτάνει ούτε νούς...
Φτερά γυρεύω να ταξιδεύω σε καινούριους ουρανούς...
Πόλεις και χώρες, που έχουν τις ώρες και δεν τις φτάνει ούτε νούς...
Κοίτα με λίγο να χαρείς,
να πεις πως δεν αντέχεις,
μαζί μου θέλεις να καείς,
ξοπίσω μου να τρέχεις.
Με δυο σταλιές Ανατολή,
τη Δύση θα στολίσω,
ν' αναστενάξει όλη η γη,
στην τρέλα να μεθύσω.
Με πιάνει η τρέλα το πρωί
και ο καημός τα βράδια,
που μου 'χεις βγάλει τη ψυχή,
με όλα αυτά τα νάζια.
Έστρωσα μαγικό χαλί,
μαζί σου να πετάξω,
άναψες μ' ένα σου φιλί,
φωτιά για να σε κάψω.
Να 'χα μια καρδιά ακόμα,
μες τ' ατέλειωτο σου σώμα.
Τη φωτιά σου ν' ανταμώσει
και αγάπη να μου δώσει.
Να 'χα κι ένα ποτηράκι,
να γεμίσω με φαρμάκι,
να το πίνω "άσπρο πάτο",
που με κάνεις άνω κάτω.!!!!!!!!!
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