Sacrifice

Anouk - Sacrifice


Anne Arrak - Sacrifice (HQ)

Otsustage ise, kas teile meeldib üks, kumbki või mõlemad.
I like them both.

Tõnis Mägi ameeriklase silmade läbi

"Üks hõljuvate juustega ja suure konna moodi mees möirgas meeskoori ees"

Justin Petrone - Minu Eesti

Fcking hilarious XD

Alex Lepajõed kirjeldas ta kui surnumatja olekuga/näoga meest.

Eestlastest on tal arusaam kui inimestest, kes on 24/7 tuima, ükskõikse ja absoluutselt mittemidagiütleva näoga ning olekuga. Ideaalne pokkerinägu tema sõnul. Ükskõik mis ka ei toimuks, eestlane ei näita mingeid emotsioone.

Teine tähelepanek on see, et eestlased üldiselt ei karju üksteise peale (midagi uut..). Tema jaoks, kes on harjunud puuviljade, nõude ja muude asjade loopimisega, tunduvad eesti paaride vaidlused kui kirglikud ja asjalikud kohtuvaidlused.

luule pildis ja muusikas

Voices About The Princess Anemone


Mulle üliväga meeldib.

The Dead

"The air of the room chilled his shoulders. He stretched himself cautiously along under the sheets and lay down beside his wife. One by one, they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. He thought of how she who lay beside him had locked in her heart for so many years that image of her lover's eyes when he had told her that he did not wish to live.

Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love. The tears gathered more thickly in his eyes and in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. Other forms were near. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."

James Joyce - The Dead

O' Children

Nick Cave - O' Children

Google Translate'i nuritõlge

Helve Kruus-Sarapuu = Helve Mug-Hazel
käed ulatuvad embama = go hug your hands
Viivi Luik = delay the swans

* Sellelaadseid nuritõlke näiteid lisandub edaspidi kindlasti veel

ja nii ongi

"Teie, kavaler, ei armasta hobust, vaid ennast hobusel, tähendab, teil pole ratsaspordiga ühist teed! Istuge ümber mootorrattale."

Boriss Almazov - „Kõige ilusam hobune"