Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Gardening (courtesy of Delores).
Last Monday's Italian verses are still with me, and this Monday's poem is an amalgamation of the idea behind the lines "il muratore non murerà, il pescatore non pescherà ... Il fumaiolo non fumerà, il girasole non girerà" from Nonna-ni-nonnina and the tune from one of the other songs Pescatori del Canada (originally Fellow from Fortune) and the theme, gardening.
Oh I am gardening in my garden,
Some kind of schooling happens at school.
But I'm not housing when I work indoors.
Now I am feeling kind of a fool.
Yes I am gardening in my garden,
I am shopping inside a shop,
But I'm not lifting inside a lift, no
Oh my dear maybe it's time to stop
When I am gardening in my garden,
I am weeding, pulling my weeds,
But I wonder if I am seeding
Carefully sowing precious seeds.
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I am SURE you are sowing precious seeds. Seeds for yourself and for others.
SvarSletLoved your poem. And the gentle fun it pokes at the weirdness of language.
I love sowing seeds - when it comes to weeding, I'm not so keen. But normally there's lots of enjoyably results anyway.
SletThank you for understanding. Luckily it seems all languages are as incongruent, ad therefore fun.
Language is such fun to play with, so often the words just do not seem to follow much pattern. your seeds are precious indeed.
SvarSletThank you. As a translator by choice I love playing with languages.
SletAh, yes, language in all its strange, unpredictable glory! I actually wish there was such a word as "housing" meaning to be working inside. I "house" a lot :) Well done, MotherOwl.
SvarSletThank you Jenny. I am surely gardening much more than I'm "housing" especially in summer, but I still miss the word.
Slet