K.DONELAITIS METAI PDF
Kristijono Donelaičio Metai Europos nacionalinio epo tradicijoje The Seasons by Kristijonas Donelaitis in the Tradition of European. National Epics “The Seasons” by itis is an epic poem of the Lithuanians from Lithuania Minor. This epic poem, as usual for this genre, embraces the whole life of the.
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Many of us, bloated to the full, stupidly, Find a taste for singing German songs and curses, And like Germans, run to taverns every day. Mindaugas Meilutis rated it it was amazing May 02, Want to Read saving…. A fuller publication of The Seasons was prepared by August Schleicher inbut this edition was criticized by Georg H.
Now not only do they preen in German dresses. Don’t mind, comrades, as you clear and sweep the dungheap, That all kinds of stenches sometimes make you sneeze Or that in the stable you must wade and groan.
Return to Book Page. The social contrast coincided with a national and even a moral division.
Neringa rated it it was amazing Jan 23, His third brother, Adam, became a blacksmith and innkeeper. Laura rated it it was amazing Jan 24, Therefore all the people turned their faces northward, Most impatient for a winter of dryness, complaining.
Ah, what tasks have we not labored to complete! We need time, so let us wait the time in patience.
We, decrepit ancients, we, the hunched k.donelzitis wretches, Like you, we’ve hopped down the avenues of Eden — Just like you, we celebrated our young summer. Several guests, who’d tried the brandy to the hilt, Couldn’t even fix their eyes on such big slabs, While some others, drunk and without knives themselves, Clutched the bacon in their fingers and devoured it, So that streams of fat were dripping down their beards, For they felt no peasant, as a guest of Krizas, Obliged to pay respects or act in lordly manner.
Retrieved from ” https: Faithful as a true companion, I’ve instructed you, Not in German, not in French have I praised you, But in peasant manner, like a trusted friend I have spoken openly, as words came to me.
His hobbies included building thermometers and barometers, and constructing pianos jetai clavichords.
Metai by Kristijonas Donelaitis (5 star ratings)
Metaiwhich became one of the principal works of Lithuanian poetry. There, already, we have gone past Martinmas, and Advent now, with Christmas, is almost upon us. The other two were destroyed during the Napoleonic Wars. Then at once, big lord again, his arms akimbo, Monstrous in abuse, torments the wretched man, Or with smirks derides his simple home and cottage.
Views Read Edit View history. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Truly, after suckling, as his soul requires, Carefree, grows each day, climbs slowly from his bud, Yet the blossom does not flower in one day, Many days must pass before his bud can burst And display, quite open, all his hidden beauty. Earth, her every corner soggy, blubbers softly For our wheels slash through her washed-out back.
Arnas rated it it was amazing Jan 23, A human being is born, matures, gives fruit and dies as a plant. Retrieved 17 February Then, creature we cherish, not even you appear; Like us, you lie silent in the shield of darkness, There in dreams, perhaps, capturing foolish flies. In the fall and winter we take to our bedding And snore, all nestled up beside the kindly oven.
Kristijonas Donelaitis “Metai” by Laima Kuusaitė on Prezi
Haven’t we, poor wretches, worked and worked the fields? To ask other readers questions about Metaiplease sign up. Thus the world begins again to welcome the winter.