The bee-keeper... by Ana Carloto O'Shea

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08-OCT-2005	Ana Carloto

The bee-keeper...

Contemporary Hungarian poetry by István Kemény.
I've heard this poem in its original language, Hungarian
and it was the way the words sounded that really
grabed my attention.
A particular phrase has stuck to my head
and has been there like the hum of the bees that the poem speaks.
Zümmögjön nekem,
zümmögjön nekem,
zümmögjön nekem...
Sometimes we don't really have to know the meaning
of the words to be moved by them.

(Igazad volt Ági... Én nem ír ez jól...
loooool I was just trying to be smart, but knowing the words does not mean that I can write a phrase...ok! I'll wait for the correction)

Sony DSC-H1
1/40s f/3.2 at 7.8mm iso64 full exif

other sizes: small medium original auto

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Guest		16-Oct-2005 14:43
looooooooool......okey dear..that sentence was the seewtes i ever heared in hugarian:)..s cute!:) even with the mistakes! Pretty cool shot..the blurr keep the softness of the flowers and the light is really beuatiful there..:) A.

Robbie D70		15-Oct-2005 18:21
This is just fantastic work! the picture goes so well with the poem .Very clever exposure and composition.

Guest		15-Oct-2005 16:53
I agree with you Ana: one of the things that made me like poetry, was that my own language sounded as a foreign one. After that, I discovered that many poets had spoken about that. They also spoke about a language in the language ("eine Sprache in der Sprache", I think it's Schlegel). Poetry in foreign language sounds also very often fascinating. I like your photo here too!

Guest		15-Oct-2005 16:24
I am a crazy old fool.Just look at me.With more wrinkles than a sour faced turtle.And gaunt crooked bones like a heap of broken warped wooden canes.Half crouched in some mishappen repose.Surmising the annual performance from vantage of the upper bowl.In the amphitheatre at the villa's outskirts.My envy more green than the saplings rustling beneath,I heard them.Their gossip hushes,the tallow of youth,sizzling at midday like fried bacon. Their leafy applause from the front rows enlivening the actors' melee.Never have I missed a play.Waiting for my precious bee-allerina to grace upon the stage.To admit my enamour would consequence ridicule.As the immense span of years between us is irrational.It is my fantasy.My secret.And I pray that thou would not reveal my shame. As she passed by,humming her delicious melody.I courtsied,my arthritic bough,mustering an expression "Most charmed! To be in your prescence sweet queen!"Then she pirouetted with an acknowledged smile.My sap rushing as a free fountain.Such adsurb infatuation to boil stagnant veins aflush.I must restrain my wanton desire.Except at curtain call.When it was beyond misery to bid adieu.And I poured open widest my popcorn bouquet unto her, buttered with honey aroma."Be mine,oh dearest,for even a moment! I beg of you!" - soothing, eloquent and most pleasant :))) -

Guest		15-Oct-2005 14:18
Once again you have perfectly matched an image to words and also once again it was a pleasure to view and read.

Guest		15-Oct-2005 10:12
Flower! Wow! something new from your shots Ana.. or did you take this shot because of the poem? :o)Lovely poem and the word hum.... :o) But litteraly, I don't much fond of the hum of the bees.. :o)

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