Posts Tagged ‘animation’
Heres a virtual movie of the great French poet Victor Hugo reading one his iconic poems “Demain, dès l’aube,” (Tome II. Aujourd’hui, 1843-1856, Livre Quatrième, Pauca meae, XIV). The poem is read superbly by Olivier Le Piouff.
Victor-Marie Hugo (26 February 1802 22 May 1885) was a French poet, playwright, novelist, essayist, visual artist, statesman, human rights activist and exponent of the Romantic movement in France.He was the third and last son of Joseph Léopold Sigisbert Hugo (17731828) and Sophie Trébuchet (1772-1821); his brothers were Abel Joseph Hugo (17981855) and Eugène Hugo (18001837). He was born in 1802 in Besançon (in the region of Franche-Comté) and lived in France for the majority of his life. However, he was forced into exile during the reign of Napoleon III — he lived briefly in Brussels during 1851; in Jersey from 1852 to 1855; and in Guernsey from 1855 to 1870 and again in 1872-1873. There was a general amnesty in 1859; after that, his exile was by choice.
Kind Regards
Jim Clark
All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2008
Demain dès l’aube (Tomorrow at Dawn)
by Victor Hugo
English Translation
Tomorrow, at dawn
In the hour when the countryside bleaches,
I will leave.
You see, I know that you await me.
I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain.
I then am to remain far from you for a long time.
I will walk the eyes fixed on my thoughts,
without anything to see with the outside,
Nor hearing any noise,
Only, unknown, the curved back, crossed hands,
Sad, and the day for me will be like the night.
I will not look at the gold of the evening which falls,
Nor the veils that descend far towards Harfleur.
And when I arrive, I will put on your tomb
A green bouquet of houx and heather in flower.
………………………..
Demain, dès l’aube…
Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.
Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.
Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.
Duration : 0:0:55
Watch Beautiful Animated Marathi Balgeet – Nacha Re Mora – Kids.Song for Kids containing the most peppy and wonderful songs like ‘Maamachya Gawala’, ‘Kokilechya’ etc. Click http://www.rajshrimarathi.com/Listing/Kids/Free-Marathi-Kids-Animation-Videos-Online to watch more songs & stories for Childrens.
Duration : 0:3:14
Watch Beautiful Animated Marathi Balgeet – Jasee Karave Tasse Bharave – Kids.Song for Kids containing the most peppy and wonderful songs like ‘Maamachya Gawala’, ‘Kokilechya’ etc. Click http://www.rajshrimarathi.com/Listing/Kids/Free-Marathi-Kids-Animation-Videos-Online to watch more songs & stories for Childrens.
Duration : 0:6:1
Heres a virtual movie of the celebrated Dundee Scots poet William McGonagall reading his best known poem “The Tay Bridge Disaster” The Tay Bridge Disaster is a poem written in 1880 by the Scottish poet William McGonagall, who has I think been rather unjustly acclaimed as the worst poet in British history,many of his poems were based on news events during his lifetime,and his poems often performed in rough public houses were designed to tell of a recent or well remembered happening not dissimilar from a town cryer so rhyme whilst a device.was not the main purpose of his declamatory style of verse often performed to a virtualy illiterate and semi inebriated lower working class audience. The poem recounts the events of the evening of December 28, 1879, when, during a severe gale, the Tay Rail Bridge at Dundee collapsed as a train was passing over it with the loss of all on board (now thought to be 75 people, not 90 as stated in the poem). The foundations of the bridge were not removed and are alongside the existing newer bridge.
.The poem is by far the most famous ever written by McGonagall, and is still widely quoted.
William Topaz McGonagall (March 1825[1] — 29 September 1902) was a Scottish weaver and amateur poet and actor. He won notoriety as a singularly bad poet who exhibited no recognition or concern of his peers’ opinions of his work. He wrote some 200 poems, including the infamous “Tay Bridge Disaster”, which are widely regarded as some of the worst in British history. Groups throughout Scotland engaged him to make recitations from his works; contemporary descriptions of these performances indicate that many of these listeners were appreciating McGonagall’s skill as a comic music hall character, and as such his readings may be considered a form of performance art. Collections of his verse continue in popularity, with several volumes available today.
Kind Regards
Jim Clark
All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2010
The Tay Bridge Disaster
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
‘Twas about seven o’clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem’d to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem’d to say-
“I’ll blow down the Bridge of Tay.”
When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers’ hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
“I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay.”
But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers’ hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov’d most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.
So the train mov’d slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o’er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill’d all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav’d to tell the tale
How the disaster happen’d on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.
Duration : 0:3:0
Heres a virtual movie of the celebrated British poet ans author Walter De La Mare (1873-1956)Reading his most loved poem “The Listeners”
Walter de la Mare was born in Kent in 1873 and educated at St Pauls Cathedral Choir School. At the age of sixteen he began work in the Anglo-American oil company, where he remained for twenty years. In 1899 he married Elfie Ingpen, a woman some years his senior.
Writing under the pseudonym Walter Ramal he published Songs of Childhood (1902), a volume that reveals his particular talent as a childrens writer. This he followed with Peacock Pie (1913) which remains to this day a well-known collection for children. Songs of Childhood and Peacock Pie emphasise the darker side of childhood, with recurrent strains of sadness, loss and cruelty.
In his early poetry for adults, The Listeners (1912) and Motley (1918), de la Mare established the themes that typified his work in ensuing years: dreams, memory, vacancy, transience. There is a recurrent sense of ghostly presence, with strong tones of faerie and folklore. Few of his poems refer directly to events, people and places, and it is de la Mares ostensible divorce from social actuality that has probably led to his lengthy neglect. In his own time, however, this fey quality was viewed more positively, with early critics such as Middleton Murry and Forrest Reid valuing de la Mare for maintaining a hint of the magical in the midst of modernity. At the same time he was greatly admired for his virtuosity in traditional verse forms. His fluent but conventional prosody leads to a lyrical, song-like pitch that is deeply suited to his unashamedly romantic content.
A friend of non-Modernistic English poets such as Newbolt, Edward Thomas, Wilfrid Gibson and Rupert Brooke, and contributor to Edward Marshs Georgian poetry collections, de la Mares reputation is popular rather than academic. Several of his poems The Listeners, Arabia and The Mocking Fairy are frequently anthologised.
Kind Regards
Jim Clark
All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2008
The Listeners (1912)
“Is there anybody there?” said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grass
Of the forest’s ferny floor;
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
“Is there anybody there?” he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
‘Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:—
“Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,” he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
Duration : 0:1:40
Billy Collins, former US Poet Laureate and one of America’s best-selling poets, reads his poem “The Country” with animation by Brady Baltezor of Radium.
Noted for their intelligent humor, accessibility and observations on daily life, Collins’ popular poems come alive further in a series of animated poems produced by JWT-NY.
Transcript –
I wondered about you
when you told me never to leave
a box of wooden, strike-anywhere matches
lying around the house because the mice
might get into them and start a fire.
But your face was absolutely straight
when you twisted the lid down on the round tin
where the matches, you said, are always stowed.
Who could sleep that night?
Who could whisk away the thought
of the one unlikely mouse
padding along a cold water pipe
behind the floral wallpaper
gripping a single wooden match
between the needles of his teeth?
Who could not see him rounding a corner,
the blue tip scratching against a rough-hewn beam,
the sudden flare, and the creature
for one bright, shining moment
suddenly thrust ahead of his time -
now a fire-starter, now a torchbearer
in a forgotten ritual, little brown druid
illuminating some ancient night.
Who could fail to notice,
lit up in the blazing insulation,
the tiny looks of wonderment on the faces of his fellow mice, onetime inhabitants
of what once was your house in the country?
Duration : 0:1:24
View poetry in an entirely new and innovative way. Billy Collins, former US Poet Laureate and one of America’s best-selling poets, reads his poem “Forgetfulness” with animation by Julian Grey of Headgear.
Noted for their intelligent humor, accessibility and observations on daily life, Collins’ popular poems come alive further in a series of animated poems produced by JWT-NY.
- – - – - -
The Poem – The name of the author is the first to go followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of, as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain, to a little fishing village where there are no phones. Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag, and even now as you memorize the order of the planets, something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps, the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay. Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. It has floated away down a dark mythological river whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall, well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle. No wonder you rise in the middle of the night to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
Duration : 0:1:49
View poetry in an entirely new and innovative way. Billy Collins, former US Poet Laureate and one of America’s best-selling poets, reads his poem “Forgetfulness” with animation by Julian Grey of Headgear.
Noted for their intelligent humor, accessibility and observations on daily life, Collins’ popular poems come alive further in a series of animated poems produced by JWT-NY.
- – - – - -
The Poem – The name of the author is the first to go followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of, as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain, to a little fishing village where there are no phones. Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag, and even now as you memorize the order of the planets, something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps, the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay. Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. It has floated away down a dark mythological river whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall, well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle. No wonder you rise in the middle of the night to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
Duration : 0:1:51
Billy Collins, former US Poet Laureate and one of America’s best-selling poets, reads his poem “The Dead” with animation by Juan Delcan of Spontaneous.
Noted for their intelligent humor, accessibility and observations on daily life, Collins’ popular poems come alive further in a series of animated poems produced by JWT New York.
- – - – - – -
The Poem – The dead are always looking down on us, they say, while we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich, they are looking down through the glass-bottom boats, of heaven as they row themselves slowly through eternity. They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth, And when we lie down in a field or on a couch, Drugged perhaps by the hum of a warm afternoon, They think we are looking back at them, which makes them lift their oars and fall silent and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes.
Duration : 0:0:51
Here is a virtual movie Edgar Allan Poe reading his great poem “The Raven”
This recording taken from a public domain audio website is qiute possibly my alltime favourite reading of this most dark lunatic frenzied poem.
Heres an excerpt of what the excellent Wikipedia says about this most famous of poems..
“The Raven” is a narrative poem by the American writer Edgar Allan Poe, first published in January 1845. It is noted for its musicality, stylized language, and supernatural atmosphere. It tells of a talking raven’s mysterious visit to a distraught lover, tracing the latter’s slow descent into madness. The lover, often identified as being a student,[1][2] is lamenting the loss of his love, Lenore. The raven, sitting on a bust of Pallas, seems to further instigate his distress with its constant repetition of the word, “Nevermore.” Throughout the poem, Poe makes allusions to folklore and various classical works.
Poe claimed to have written the poem very logically and methodically. His intention was to create a poem that would appeal to both critical and popular tastes, as he explains in the follow-up essay: “The Philosophy of Composition”. The poem was inspired in part by a talking raven in the novel Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of ‘Eighty by Charles Dickens.[3] Poe borrows the complex rhythm and meter of Elizabeth Barrett’s poem “Lady Geraldine’s Courtship”.
The first publication of “The Raven” on January 29, 1845, in the New York Evening Mirror made Poe widely popular in his lifetime. The poem was soon reprinted, parodied, and illustrated. Though some critics disagree about the value of the poem, it remains one of the most famous poems ever written”
Kind Regards
Jim Clark
All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2008
Duration : 0:8:31