Meyran Kraus

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Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.

A bogus Nostradamus quatrain spread across the web after the September 11th events. Some debunked it, quoting the real verse that inspired it, while others claimed the genuine version also predicts the terror act. This is the real quatrain and a translation.

Cinq & quarante degrez ciel bruslera
Feu approcher de la grand cite neuue
Instant grand flamme esparse sautera
Quand on voudra des Normans faire preuue.

(At forty-five degrees the sky will burn,
Fire to approach the great new city:
In an instant a great scattered flame will leap up,
When one will want to demand proof of the Normans.)

A verse an astrologer, Nostradamus, wrote; frequently quoted as a few maintain it foresees a vile, quadruple plane-plunge which will terrorize the Pentagon and the New York City WTC, and render American people as fearful as unprepared...
Come on! It's fluff! If rearranged, nothing supernatural can be detected... but this damn anagram.

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John Keats
Ode on Melancholy

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
   Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
   By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
       Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
   Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
       Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
   For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
       And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
   Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
   And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
   Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
       Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
   Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
       And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die;
   And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
   Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
   Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
       Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
   Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
       And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

Mey K.
Depressed Song

Oh, pop no sleeping pills nor shape a noose,
   Gulp down no lye or strychnine with a rush;
Don't fill a bath and dwell in self-abuse,
   Then slit your wrists and watch the water blush.
Know this: Rejecting life when at its dawn
   As harsh and hapless, bears no solid gain,
       No point here but the clouding of the ache.
   Let Hope give you the courage that was gone;
Slip through the shadows, brave the fearsome pain
       And win your sterling battle - for my sake.

I too repress the madness of my fears,
   The dreams of bones and ashes underground;
"Let go," these nightmares whisper in my ears,
   "For on your deathbed, sleep shall be so sound..."
So, as I share these hisses in my head,
   Tell me again how much you hate your job
       Or driving in the rain, but realise:
   I know of every time you hold off dread,
Or turn the shower on to hide your sobs.
       The lips sure can pretend, but not the eyes.

Don't lie, then, on the open oven's door,
   Then breathe the gas, as slowly all will fade;
Don't leap off from a height of twenty floors,
   And die, your form so horrid, in the shade...
However, if you feel no Hope shall bring
   Redemption, then surrender to the wrath
       And frightful torments of your helpless woe -
   Whichever, hell or heaven, is your path,
Just promise me this one and only thing:
       Take me along when you decide to go.

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Douglas Malloch
Be The Best of Whatever You Are

If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley - but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can't be a tree.

If you can't be a bush be a bit of the grass,
And some highway happier make;
If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass -
But the liveliest bass in the lake!

We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew,
There's something for all of us here,
There's big work to do, and there's lesser to do,
And the task you must do is the near.

If you can't be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can't be the sun be a star;
It isn't by size that you win or you fail -
Be the best of whatever you are!

Scales
Mey K.

If hunger makes you so abnormally fat
The buffet throws you back to the street -
Being tubby is tough but we can't all be buff!
Take a bath with a bucket of sweets!

If you have to act sheepishly in the bed
As you carry a three-incher bone -
It's wee as the Hobbit but it isn't a 'Bobbitt'!
Just a head-job can cause her to moan!

If an army of thousands approaches the stand
While you're shot in the eye - have no fear!
See, your life be saved if you try to be brave -
Beat it up with a belt and good cheer!

(A high life in a bubble, I bluntly reveal,
Is unable to sweeten the pill.
These theories shatter because size DOES matter -
As long as the globe turns, it will.)

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Updated: May 10, 2016


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