I was told the real ‘city’ was hereabouts, so I set off on my bike to find Nineveh in the drizzle and mists of an early East German spring. I passed through dank and dangerous forests:
Past mist-enshrouded fields:
To find the great and bustling city:
For the skeptical …
Satisfied that the inhabitants had indeed repented of their sins, I returned home:
2 March, 2012 at 2:56 pm
“Past mist-enshrouded fields:”
Listening to too much Darkthrone lately?
2 March, 2012 at 5:40 pm
Can’t say I have, but I am beginning to appreciate the utopian nature of a lighted window at the far end of dark and misty field.
3 March, 2012 at 3:30 am
Given you anti-British bias I think you will like the following from Kipling:
God of our fathers, known of old–
Lord of our far-flung battle line
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine–
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget – lest we forget!
Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget – lest we forget!
3 March, 2012 at 6:47 am
Brilliant … but, George ,I have no anti-British bias.
3 March, 2012 at 7:23 am
Of course you haven’t. I don’t know what I was thinking of.
Since you enjoyed the Kipling so much here is some Burns.
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait wad lea’e us,
An’ ev’n devotion!