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The Last Person to Post in This Thread Wins

Agonum said:
Tú, alfagra land mítt,
mín dýrasta ogn,
á vetri so randhvítt,
á sumri við logn,
tú tekur meg at tær
so tætt í tín favn,
tit oyggjar so mætar,
Gud signi tað navn,
sum menn tykkum góvu,
tá teir tykkum sóu,
Ja, Gud signi Føroyar, mítt land.
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That's what I've translated now:
You don't seem to know what to do.
when you
want you to log into
into the system,
you can be sure that it's
it is, and
but it means you don't know what to do when you're working on our land.
 
hope said:
What does that mean? I think I've seen this before🤔
Click to expand...
It’s a biblical quote.

Gud sade: “Varde ljus!“ Och det blev ljus. Gud såg att ljuset var gott, och han skilde ljuset från mörkret. Gud kallade ljuset dag, och mörkret kallade han natt. Och det blev afton och det blev morgon, den första dagen. (1. Moseboken 1:3–31)​

I believe this should be the Russian translation, from the “New Russian Translation”:

Бог сказал: «Да будет свет», и появился свет. Бог увидел, что свет хорош, и отделил его от тьмы. Бог назвал свет днем, а тьму – ночью. Был вечер, и было утро – день первый.​

English:

And God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good; and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day. (21st Century King James Version, Genesis 1:3–31)​

German:

Da sprach Gott: »Licht soll entstehen!«, und sogleich strahlte Licht auf. 4 Gott sah, dass es gut war. Er trennte das Licht von der Dunkelheit 5 und nannte das Licht »Tag« und die Dunkelheit »Nacht«. Es wurde Abend und wieder Morgen: Der erste Tag war vergangen. (Hoffnung für Alle, 1 Mose 1:3–31)​
 
hope said:
That's what I've translated now:
You don't seem to know what to do.
when you
want you to log into
into the system,
you can be sure that it's
it is, and
but it means you don't know what to do when you're working on our land.
Click to expand...
It translates to:

You, my beautiful country,
My precious belonging,
In winter so white
In summer at peace
You take me to you
So close in your arms
You, islands, so mighty,
God bless the name,
That men gave you,
When they saw you,
Yes, God bless Føroyar, my country
 
hope said:
That's what I've translated now:
You don't seem to know what to do.
when you
want you to log into
into the system,
you can be sure that it's
it is, and
but it means you don't know what to do when you're working on our land.
Click to expand...
This translation is priceless! 🤣😅😂🤣
 
hope said:
That's what I've translated now:
You don't seem to know what to do.
when you
want you to log into
into the system,
you can be sure that it's
it is, and
but it means you don't know what to do when you're working on our land.
Click to expand...
the-office-stanley-laughing-hysterically-twornx6e1uum8exq.gif
 

Did you know?​

Waxwings tend to prefer eating red berries to orange berries; but they will choose the latter over yellow and white ones. This pattern is seen in many other berry-eating birds. One downside of eating so many berries is that the birds sometimes become a bit intoxicated by fermenting fruit.


Waxwing | The Wildlife Trusts

The waxwing is a colourful winter visitor. It can often be spotted in large flocks in berry-laden bushes in towns, car parks and gardens.
www.wildlifetrusts.org www.wildlifetrusts.org
 
Agonum said:
I wonder if there’s any relation to Nordic ‘borg’ (castle).
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I hadn't considered that.

Full disclosure - I found the word in a book by Robert MacFarlane. 'Landmarks'. I found it today, second-hand. He writes about nature and, uh, landscapes! I haven't read a great deal of his writing but what I've seen I've really liked. This book has lots of glossaries in it relating to uplands, coastlands, flatlands etc. That's where I found my words. Atm, I'm just flicking through the book. Maybe he explains stuff that would answer your question but it's early days for me and this book so I haven't got that knowledge of it.

Actually, what really made me buy the book was this quote after the title page:

"Scholars, I plead with you,
Where are your dictionaries of the wind, the grasses?"
Norman McCaig (1983)

I haven't found out yet who Norman McCaig is but I like his quote!
 
zinniabooklover said:
I hadn't considered that.

Full disclosure - I found the word in a book by Robert MacFarlane. 'Landmarks'. I found it today, second-hand. He writes about nature and, uh, landscapes! I haven't read a great deal of his writing but what I've seen I've really liked. This book has lots of glossaries in it relating to uplands, coastlands, flatlands etc. That's where I found my words. Atm, I'm just flicking through the book. Maybe he explains stuff that would answer your question but it's early days for me and this book so I haven't got that knowledge of it.

Actually, what really made me buy the book was this quote after the title page:

"Scholars, I plead with you,
Where are your dictionaries of the wind, the grasses?"
Norman McCaig (1983)

I haven't found out yet who Norman McCaig is but I like his quote!
Click to expand...
I love that quote! We need to know who this McCaig is!
 
Maccaig.jpg

Norman Alexander MacCaig (1910–1996) was a Scottish poet and teacher.

By the graveyard, Luskentyre​

From behind the wall death sends out messages
That all mean the same, that are easy to understand.

But who can interpret the blue-green waves
That never stop talking, shouting, wheedling?

Messages everywhere. Scholars, I plead with you,
Where are your dictionaries of the wind, the grasses?

Four larks are singing in a showering sprinkle
Their bright testaments: in a foreign language.

And always the beach is oghamed and cunieformed
By knot and dunlin and country-dancing sandpipers.

– There’s Donnie’s lugsail. He’s off to the lobsters.
The mast tilts to the north, the boat sails west.

A dictionary of him? – Can you imagine it? – A volume thick as the height of the Clisham,

A volume big as the whole of Harris,
A volume beyond the wit of scholars.
 
"Four larks are singing in a showering sprinkle
Their bright testaments: in a foreign language.

And always the beach is oghamed and cunieformed
By knot and dunlin and country-dancing sandpipers.

– There’s Donnie’s lugsail. He’s off to the lobsters.
The mast tilts to the north, the boat sails west.

A dictionary of him? – Can you imagine it? – A volume thick as the height of the Clisham,

A volume big as the whole of Harris,
A volume beyond the wit of scholars."



Wow! Just Wow! 😲 🔥 ❤️ ✨
 
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Sparrow​


He’s no artist.
His taste in clothes is more
dowdy than gaudy.
And his nest – that blackbird, writing
pretty scrolls on the air with the gold nib of his beak
would call it a slum

To stalk solitary on lawns,
to sing solitary in midnight trees,
to glide solitary over grey atlantics–
not for him: he’d rather
a punch up in a gutter

He carries what learning he las[?]
lightly – it is, in fact, based only
on the usefulness whose result
is survival. A proletarian bird.
No scholar.

But when winter soft-shoes in
and these other birds –
ballet dancers, musicians, architects –
die in the snow
and freeze to branches,
watch him happily flying
on the O-levels and A-levels
of the air.
Norman MacCaig, Dec. 1968​
 
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