“You’re Not Supposed to Say That!” – Mama Lisa’s Thanksgiving Silliness
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This is the Poetry about the Seasons Archive Page
- Poems about Spring (11)
- Poems about the Fall (3)
- Autumn Song (1)
- Chanson d'Automne (1)
- Poems about Winter (4)
- Winter-time (1)
- Poetry about Summer (2)
- Answer July (1)
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My Tweets
Archive for the 'Poetry about the Seasons' Category
Contents
Posts
“You’re Not Supposed to Say That!” – Mama Lisa’s Thanksgiving Silliness
Monday, November 2nd, 2009Here’s a Thanksgiving poem I wrote in honor of turkeys all over the U.S. in autumn. It’s geared towards older kids.
You can click on the mp3 below to hear my husband and me recite it…
You’re Not Supposed to Say That!
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” said the turkey.
“What?!” went the rooster.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
“You’re not supposed to say
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
Said the rooster.
“Oh yes I am!”
Said the turkey.
“No you’re not!”
Said the rooster.
“What am I supposed to say?”
Asked the turkey.
The rooster replied,
“Gobble, gobble, gobble!”
“BOOM”
Went the farmer’s gun
And the rooster fell down dead.
“Don’t tell me what I’m
Supposed to say!”
Said the turkey,
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”Many thanks to my husband, Jason Pomerantz, for playing the part of the Turkey (hee, hee, hee)!
Hope you enjoyed the show!
Mama Lisa
Early Spring a Poem by Fay Inchfawn with an MP3 Recording
Friday, April 3rd, 2009Here’s a lovely poem called Early Spring by Fay Inchfawn. Inchfawn’s real name was Elizabeth Rebecca Ward (1880 – 1978). She was born in England.
Early Spring
Quick through the gates of Fairyland
The South Wind forced his way.
‘Twas his to make the Earth forget
Her grief of yesterday.
“‘Tis mine,” cried he, “to bring her joy!”
And on his lightsome feet
In haste he slung the snowdrop bells,
Pushed past the Fairy sentinels,
And out with laughter sweet.Clear flames of Crocus glimmered on
The shining way he went.
He whispered to the trees strange tales
Of wondrous sweet intent,
When, suddenly, his witching voice
With timbre rich and rare,
Rang through the woodlands till it cleft
Earth’s silent solitudes, and left
A Dream of Roses there!You can read a whole book of Elizabeth Ward’s poetry called The Verse-Book Of A Homely Woman online at Project Gutenberg.
Qingming Poem by Du Mu with an MP3 Recording
Friday, April 3rd, 2009Yesterday, I posted the poem Qingming by the poet Du Mu (803 – 852) that mentions the Qingming Festival (also called Ching Ming). I asked my friend Ray Lee about it. He grew up in Hong Kong and I wanted to hear his impression about the poem and also my translation of it (below). Here’s what Ray wrote:
This is indeed a very well known poem. We were taught this poem when we were in school. I don’t know if they still teach this in school. Even if they don’t, the school kids are bound to hear it from their parents or on TV or read about it somewhere.
The translation you have is pretty good. I am not sure about the second line though. I have always thought it said, “pedestrians on the road are like ghosts,” because of the rain.
Below you can find the Chinese text, the Pinyin and an English translation I had done of the poem Qingming plus an mp3 of Qingming being recited…
Ching Ming
It’s raining hard at the time of the Ching Ming Festival,
The mourner’s heart is overwhelmed on the road upland.
May I ask where there’s a tavern to drown my sorrows?
The shepherd boy points to Xinghua Village in the distance.清 明
清 明 时 节 雨 纷 纷，
路 上 行 人 欲 断 魂。
借 问 酒 家 何 处 有，
牧 童 遥 指 杏 花 村。
qīng míng shí jié yǔ fēn fēn
lù shàng xíng rén yù duàn hún
jiè wèn jiǔ jiā hé chù yǒu
mù tóng yáo zhǐ xìng huā cūnRay later wrote to me about the second line:
There is another translation on the Internet that is somewhere between my translation and yours. This one says something like travelers all look gloomy and miserable.
Thanks, Ray, for letting us know more about this poem!
The poem was read by Jia Zhou for Librevox.
If anyone would like to comment about the translation, please feel free to let us know what you think in the comments below or to email me at lisa@mamalisa.com .
Below you can read posts about the Chingming Festival…
-Mama Lisa
April Poem
Wednesday, April 1st, 2009Here’s an old poem about April by William Watson (1858 – 1936), an English poet…
Song
APRIL, April,
Laugh thy girlish laughter;
Then, the moment after,
Weep thy girlish tears!
April, that mine ears
Like a lover greetest,
If I tell thee, sweetest,
All my hopes and fears,
April, April,
Laugh thy golden laughter,
But, the moment after,
Weep thy golden tears!
An Occitan Poem for Autumn
Monday, September 22nd, 2008Here’s a short, pretty, Occitan poem to mark the start of Fall. Occitan is a language spoken in parts of southern France, Spain and Italy. It was the language of the troubadours.
Monique Palomares, who works with me on Mama Lisa’s World en français, sent sent the poem to me.
The poem was written by Louisa Paulin (1888 – 1944). Below you’ll find the original poem in Occitan with a recording, followed by an English translation. The translation was mainly done by Monique, with a little help from me. It was recited by Monique.
Silenci de l’auton
(Occitan)Silenci de l’auton quand lo vent s’es pausat
doç coma una pluma de palomba
escapada de la negra man del caçaire.
Silenci saure de l’auton
ont s’ausis la darrièra vèspa
e lo mai escondut al plus prigond del còr.Recording of Silenci de l’auton
Here’s an English Translation:
Silence of the Fall
by Louisa PaulinSilence of the Fall when the wind calmed down
as soft as a dove’s feather,
slipped from the hunter’s black hand.
Golden silence of the Fall
when one hears the last wasp
and what’s most hidden in the depths of the heart.Many thanks to Monique for the poem, recording and translation!
Mama Lisa
A Poem about Icicles
Wednesday, January 30th, 2008Here’s a beautiful poem that you can share with a child in your life. It’s about icicles hanging from trees in the cold winter night. It was written by Elinor Wylie (1885 – 1928).
Silver Filigree
The icicles wreathing
On trees in festoon
Swing, swayed to our breathing:
They’re made of the moon.She’s a pale, waxen taper;
And these seem to drip
Transparent as paper
From the flame of her tip.Molten, smoking a little,
Into crystal they pass;
Falling, freezing, to brittle
And delicate glass.Each a sharp-pointed flower,
Each a brief stalactite
Which hangs for an hour
In the blue cave of night.
“Chanson d’Automne” – Autumn Song – A Poem by Verlaine
Monday, November 26th, 2007Here is one last poem about Autumn before I focus on the topic of the upcoming December holiday season.
I came upon this poem while looking for French podcasts to brush up on my French in anticipation of a trip to France in the Spring. There’s a whole podcast in French devoted to this poem that you can listen to. It inspired me to come up with my own translation, which you can read below.
Chanson d’Automne is a very sad poem that was written by Paul-Marie Verlaine in 1866. Most French people are familiar with this poem as it’s taught in school. French children are often required to learn it by heart.
Chanson d’Automne
Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon cœur
D’une langueur
Monotone.Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure;Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.Autumn Song
The long tears
Of Autumn’s
Violins
Wound my heart
With a monotonous
lethargy.All suffocating
And pale when
The hour strikes,
I remember
The old days
And I cry…And I am going away
On an ill wind
That carries me
Here, there,
Just like a
Dead leaf.Follow the link to hear Chanson d’Automne recited
Autumn – a Poem by Emily Dickinson
Monday, November 5th, 2007Here’s a poem about the Fall that I thought you might enjoy:
Autumn
by Emily DickinsonThe morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.
“Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night” – A Poem by the Chinese Poet Du Fu
Monday, March 26th, 2007Du Fu, also known as Tu Fu (712-770), is one of the best-known poets of China. Many of his poems are about nature and the seasons.
Here’s Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night in simplified Chinese and with an English translation by Brendan O’Kane. After the translation, I posted the traditional Chinese text.
春夜喜雨
Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night杜甫
Dù Fǔ好雨知时节，
A good rain knows its proper time;
当春乃发生。
It waits until the Spring to fall.
随风潜入夜，
It drifts in on the wind, steals in by night,
润物细无声。
Its fine drops drench, yet make no sound at all.
野径云俱黑，
The paths between the fields are cloaked with clouds;
江船火独明。
A river-skiff’s lone light still burns.
晓看红湿处，
Come dawn, we’ll see splashes of wet red –
花重锦官城
The flowers in Chengdu*, weighed down with rain.*Chengdu is now a large city in southern China. Du Fu lived in Chengdu for 4 years and composed over 200 poems there.
Here is the poem in traditional Chinese text:
春夜喜雨
好雨知時節,
當春乃發生。
隨風潛入夜,
潤物細無聲。
野徑雲俱黑,
將船火獨明。
曉看紅濕處,
花重錦官城。Many thanks to Brendan O’Kane for letting me post his translation of this poem. Brendan is a translator living in Beijing. He also has a blog called Bokane.org. Check it out for translations of some other Chinese poems and general posts about Chinese culture and life in Beijing.
Don’t Take Your New Parasol Out in the Windy Month of March!
Thursday, March 22nd, 2007Here’s a poem from an anonymous author of an old book called The Infant’s Delight: Poetry. It’s about a little girl who goes out on a windy day in March with her beautiful new parasol, even though her mother tells her not to. Uh-oh! (A parasol is a fancy umbrella, carried to block the sun.)
NAUGH-TY NEL-LY AND HER NEW PA-RA-SOL.
“No, Nel-ly! not to-day, my child!
I can-not let you take it;
This cold March wind, so strong and wild,
Your pa-ra-sol, ‘twould break it!”So said Mam-ma; but Nel-ly thought,
“I will take my new pre-sent:
Tis mine; to please me it was bought;
The wea-ther’s bright and plea-sant.”So naugh-ty Nel-ly sly-ly took
What kind Mam-ma had bought her,
And out she went-and, only look!
The wild March wind has caught her!The silk tore up, the ribs broke out,
In spite of Nel-ly’s sway-ing;
And peo-ple laugh-ed at her, no doubt-
That comes of dis-o-bey-ing.You can find more poems like this one online from The Infant’s Delight: Poetry at Project Gutenberg.
Spring Is Here! Go Away Winter, You Brute!
Wednesday, March 21st, 2007Now that Spring is here – we can all smile – and start bad-mouthing Winter!
Here’s a poem about banishing Winter, called Winter, You’re Just a Brute! Well, that’s my translation of it. It’s originally French. The title in French is Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain ! It was written by Charles d’Orléans (1394-1465).
Below you’ll find my English translation first, followed by a modernized French version, followed by the original poem. At the end you’ll find a link where you can hear the poem recited in French.
Winter, You’re Just a Brute!
Winter, you’re just a brute!
Summer is pleasant and nice,
As proof, May and April,
Who accompany it evening and morn.Summer adorns fields, woods and flowers,
In its coat of greenery
And of many other colors,
By the order of Nature.But you, Winter, are too full
Of snow, wind, rain and hail;
You must be banished into exile,
Without flattering, I speak fairly,
Winter, you’re just a brute!Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain !
(A Modernized Version in French)Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain !
Eté est plaisant et gentil,
En témoin de Mai et d’Avril,
Qui l’accompagnent soir et matin.Eté revêt champs, bois et fleurs
De sa livrée de verdure,
Et de maintes autres couleurs,
Par l’ordonnance de Nature.Mais, vous, Hiver, trop êtes plein
De neige, vents, pluie et grésil.
On vous dût bannir en exil,
Sans point flatter, je parle plain,
Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain.Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain
(Original Version with Older French Spelling)Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain,
Esté est plaisant et gentil,
En tesmoing de May et d’Avril
Qui l’acompaignent soir et main.Esté revest champs, bois et fleurs,
De sa livrée de verdure
Et de maintes autres couleurs,
Par l’ordonnance de Nature.Mais vous, Yver, trop estes plain
De nege, vent pluye et grezil;
On vous deust banie en essil.
Sans point flater, je parle plain,
Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain !
Link to hear Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain ! RecitedLink to Hear Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain ! Sung
A Poem called “Answer July” by Emily Dickinson
Wednesday, July 5th, 2006Answer July
Answer July -
Where is the Bee -
Where is the Blush -
Where is the Hay?Ah, said July -
Where is the Seed -
Where is the Bud -
Where is the May -
Answer Thee – Me -Nay – said the May -
Show me the Snow -
Show me the Bells -
Show me the Jay!Quibbled the Jay -
Where be the Maize -
Where be the Haze -
Where be the Bur?
Here – said the Year -Emily Dickinson
Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?
Wednesday, June 21st, 2006Today’s the first day of summer. In honor of the day, here’s one of the best known poems in the English language that refers to the summer. It’s Shakespeare’s Sonnet #18.
Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.Hope you enjoy reading this classic poem and that you have a nice summer!
Lisa
An April Song in English, based on a French Poem
Wednesday, April 5th, 2006David Solomons sent me this nice ditty he sang called APRIL. The English lyrics were written by S N Solomons, the music was composed and performed by David Solomons. The English version is based on a French poem by Remi Belleau (1528-1577).
MP3 of David Solomons singing April
APRIL
April, the grace and smile
That all beguile,
The tang and the sweet breath:
Perfume of Gods on high,
Who from the sky
Relish the scent of earth.April, courteous and gentil
Who from exile
Summons the wanderers,
The forked swifts that skim
Their way and seem
Of Spring the messengers.May-flower and eglantine,
And verdant thyme,
Lilies and roses red
At this so beauteous tide,
Growing in pride
With lovely raiment spread.English version of APRIL ©S N Solomons
Here’s Remi Belleau’s poem in French…
AVRIL
Avril, la grace, et le ris
De Cypris,
Le flair et la douce haleine:
Avril, le parfum des Dieux,
Qui des cieux
Sentent l`odeur de la plaine.C`est toy courtois et gentil,
Qui d`exil
Retires ces passageres,
Ces arondelles qui vont,
Et qui sont
Du printemps les messageres.L`aubespine et l`aiglantin,
Et le thym,
L`oeillet, le lis et les roses
En ceste belle saison,
A foison,
Monstrent leurs robes escloses.Come visit David’s page with this song and the musical score.
Check out the Online Video of David Singing APRIL!
Many thanks to David Solomons for sharing this song for us to enjoy!
David is a one man choral singer who has been playing instruments and singing for over 30 years. Here’s a link to David Solomons’ Home Page where you can hear more of his music!
A Daffodil Ditty
Thursday, March 30th, 2006Yesterday I saw the first daffodils of the season. It made me think of an old English rhyme, which goes…
Daffy-down-dilly is new come to town,
With a yellow petticoat and a green gown.An alternative version is…
Daffy-down-dilly is new come to town,
With a petticoat green, and a bright yellow gown,
And her white blossoms are peeping around.Seeing daffy-down-dilly used for daffodil, made me curious about the word. I looked it up in the Oxford English Dictionary and found all of these variants of daffodil…
Affodil
Daff
Daffy
Daffadilly
Daffodilly
Daffydowndilly
Daffadowndilly
Daffodowndilly
DaffadoondillyThen there’s also the word daffying, that dates back to 1871, which means to gather daffodils.
Whatever you’re doing this season, I hope you get to see some lovely daffy-down-dillies. It’s a wonderful sign that it’s springtime!
Lisa
“Spring Wish”, A Springtime Poem for Schoolkids
Monday, March 27th, 2006Spring Wish
By John FarrarA frog’s a very happy thing,
Cool and green in early spring,
Quick and silver through the pool,
With no thought of books or school.Oh, I want to be a frog,
Sunning, stretching on a log,
Blinking there in splendid ease,
Swimming naked when I please,
Nosing into magic nooks,
Quiet marshes, noisy brooks.Free! And fit for anything!
Oh, to be a frog in spring!
A Springtime Poem by Wordsworth
Friday, March 24th, 2006Here’s a poem written by the British poet William Wordsworth (1770-1850)…
Written in March
While resting on the Bridge at the foot of Brother’s WaterThe cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The ploughboy is whooping-anon-anon:
There’s joy in the mountains;
There’s life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
A French Poem called “Le Printemps” or “Springtime”
Sunday, March 19th, 2006I asked Monique of Mama Lisa’s World en français, if she could recommend any well-known French songs or poems about the Spring. She wrote:
Here is a poem we often teach the students, called Le Printemps by Théophile Gautier (1811 – 1872)…
Le Printemps
par Théophile GautierRegardez les branches
Comme elles sont blanches,
Il neige des fleurs.Riant de la pluie
Le soleil essuie
les saules en pleurs.Et le ciel reflète
Dans la violette
Ses pures couleurs…La mouche ouvre l’aile
Et la demoiselle
Aux prunelles d’or,
Au corset de guêpe
Dépliant son crêpe,
A repris l’essor.L’eau gaiement babille,
Le goujon frétille
Un printemps encore !Monique and I prepared this English translation for you…
Springtime
By Théophile GautierLook at the boughs,
How white they are,
It’s snowing flowers!Scoffing at the rain,
The sun dries
The weepy willow.And the sky reflects
In the violets
Its pure colors…The fly opens its wings
And the dragonfly
With the golden pupils,
And the wasp-like corset,
Unfolding its silky wings,
Has resumed its flight.The water happily babbles,
The tiny fish wriggles
It’s Springtime again!Come visit the Mama Lisa’s World France page for French children’s songs with their English translations and…
Mama Lisa’s World en français for children’s songs around the world with their French translations.
“Velvet Shoes” – A Poem about Walking in the Snow
Sunday, January 15th, 2006The rain turned into snow last night. The land is a beautiful velvety white.
Here’s a poem about the snow by Elinor Wylie…
Velvet Shoes
Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.I shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,
White as white cow’s milk,
More beautiful
Than the breast of a gull.We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.If it’s wintry white outside near you, put on your velvet shoes and enjoy a walk in the snow!
Lisa
A Poem called “Winter-time” by Robert Louis Stevenson for the Winter Solstice
Wednesday, December 21st, 2005Winter-time
by Robert Louis StevensonLate lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or, with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding-cake.
________
Copyright ©2009 by Lisa Yannucci. All rights reserved.
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