Memoirs of Mistral (Google eBook)

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E. Arnold, 1907 - Provençal poetry - 336 pages
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Page v - Ich singe, wie der Vogel singt, der in den Zweigen wohnet,. das Lied, das aus der Kehle dringt, ist Lohn, der reichlich lohnet,. doch darf ich bitten, bitt' ich eins: Laß mir den besten Becher Weins in purem Golde reichen!
Page 332 - Provencau, veici la coupo Que nous ven di Catalan: A-de-reng beguen en troupo Lou vin pur de noste plant! Coupo santo E versanto, Vuejo a plen bord, Vuejo abord Lis estrambord E l'enavans di fort!
Page xi - You are teaching the lesson that none need more to learn than we of the West, we of the eager, restless, wealth-seeking nation; the lesson that after a certain not very high level of material wellbeing has been reached, then the things that really count in life are the things of the spirit. Factories and railways are good up to a certain point ; but courage and endurance, love of wife and child, love of home and country, love of lover for sweetheart, love of beauty in man's work and in nature, love...
Page xii - ... of the spirit. Factories and railways are good up to a certain point. But courage and endurance, love of wife and child, love of home and country, love of lover for sweetheart, love of beauty in man's work and in nature, love and emulation of daring and of lofty...
Page xi - Mrs. Roosevelt and I were equally pleased with the book and the medal, and none the less because for nearly twenty years we have possessed a copy of Mireille.
Page 31 - Mistral, the Provencal poet. On Christmas Eve everyone, he says, speaking of his boyhood, sallied forth to fetch the Yule log, which had to be cut from a fruit-tree : — " Walking in line we bore it home, headed by the oldest at one end, and I, the last born, bringing up the rear. Three times we made the tour of the kitchen, then, arrived at the flagstones of the hearth, my father solemnly poured over the log a glass of wine, with the dedicatory words : 'Joy, joy. May God shower joy upon us, my...
Page 329 - 0 Magal i , se tu te fas La pauro morto, Adounc la terro me farai, Aqui t'aurai : " "Aro coumence enfin de crèire Que noun me parles en risènt.
Page 332 - Lou vin pur de noste plant! Coupo santo, E versanto, Vuejo à plen bord, Vuejo abord Lis estrambord E l'enavans di fort! D'un vièi pople fier e libre Sian bessai la finicioun; E, se toumbon li Felibre, Toumbara nosto nacioun.
Page 25 - Worn out with emotion, I soon fell asleep. Can any one guess of what I dreamed? Why, of my iris flowers! ... In a lovely stream of water which wound all round the farmhouse, a limpid, transparent, azure stream like the waters of the fountain at Vaucluse, I beheld the most beautiful clumps of iris covered with a perfect wonder of golden blossoms! Little dragon-flies with blue silk wings came and settled on the flowers, while I swam about naked in the laughing rivulet and plucked by handfuls and armsful...
Page xii - ... the homely work-a-day virtues and the heroic virtues — these are better still, and if they are lacking no piled-up riches, no roaring, clanging industrialism, no feverish and many-sided activity, shall avail either the individual or the nation. I do not undervalue these things of a nation's body; I only desire that they shall not make us forget that besides the nation's body there is also the nation's soul.

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