Showing posts from December, 2011

Why This Kolaveri Di# Translation #Info

Song: Why This Kolaveri Di (Tamil: வொய் திஸ் கொலவெறி டி, Voy Tis Kolaveṟi Di ?; English: Why This Murderous Rage, Girl?) Composer: Anirudh Ravichander Director: Aishwarya Rajinikanth Dhanush This is an Indian song from the soundtrack of the Tamil film, which is due to be released in 2012. Written and sung by actor Dhanush, the song was composed by music director Anirudh Ravichander. A downtempo dance gaana-ballad song, "Why This Kolaveri Di" has been described as "genre bending" by critics, built around an ancient South Indian folk rhythm. Its instrumentation consists of nadaswaram, shehnai, saxophone, urumee and thavil drums, acoustic guitar and keyboards mixed with electronic synths and scratches. The vocals utilize the singing style of Tamil folk culture. Lyrically, the song revolves around the film's main protagonist being dumped by his girlfriend; the song is sung by the character in a drunken state, with many of the lines nonsensical. The song was

Merry Christmas 2011 #White Christmas : Lyrics

White Christmas : Lyrics I'm dreaming of a white Christmas Just like the ones I used to know Where the treetops glisten, and children listen To hear sleigh bells in the snow I'm dreaming of a white Christmas With every Christmas card I write May your days be merry and bright And may all your Christmases be white I'm dreaming of a white Christmas With every Christmas card I write May your days be merry and bright And may all your Christmases be white Irving Berlin (May 11, 1888 – September 22, 1989) was an American composer, lyricist  of Jewish heritage, widely considered one of the greatest songwriters  in American history.

First World War Poetry #Siegried Sassoon

Siegried Sassoon Survivors No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk. Of course they're 'longing to go out again,' — These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk. They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,— Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride... Men who went out to battle, grim and glad; Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad. Craiglockhart. October, 1917. Suicide in the Trenches I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you&#

कथा : परिचित आवाज - समिक्षा निरौला । Story : Parichit Aawaaz Samikshya Niroula #niroulasweb

कक्षा एघारमा भर्ना भएको पहिलो दिन अत्याउने सङ्ख्याका नयाँ अनुहार बीच आफूलाई पाएँ । त्यसैदिन उच्च शिक्षामा पनि अब्बल अंक ल्याएर उत्तिर्ण गर्ने अठोट मनमनै गरेँकी थिएँ । अध्ययन क्षेत्रमा भित्रिने नयाँ विषय र शैली सिक्नु मेरो दोस्रो चुनौती थियो । यसैलाई आत्मसाथ गरेर मैले अघि बढ्नु थियो । मेरो अठोट र चुनौतीको दीर्घकालिन सन्तुलनले मलाई सफलताको भयले तर्फ लाग्न झक्झकाई रहन्थ्यो । भविष्यको खाका कोर्ने त्यस दिनहरुमा एकाएक पाएको स्वतन्त्रताको नयाँ परिधिमा विशुद्ध नयाँ आकृति – मेरो नाम । परिवारको निर्णय प्रमुख हुने जान्दा–जान्दै मैले फिदिमबाट विर्तामोड डेरामा बसेर पढ्ने सोच बनाएँ । विर्तामोडमा आफन्त नभएका हैनन्, तर मैले एक्लै बस्ने निर्णय लिएकी थिएँ । सुरुवाती दिनहरुमा घरको मायामा सिराने नभिजेका हैनन् । तर मैले आत्मनिष्ठूर बन्नु कुनै आधार थिएन । कारण, म आफैले त्यो रोजेकी थिएँ । नत्र फिदिम बजारमै पनि उच्च शिक्षाका कलेज नभएका हैनन् । घरकै भात खाएरै पनि पढ्न सक्थेँ । मेरो ईच्छा संग मेरो परिवारको सपना पनि जोडिन्थ्यो, जसलाई मैले जिम्मेवारीका वास्तविकतामा रुपान्तरण गर्नुथियो । – “नमस्ते” उसले मलाई दो

A Resumsed Identity #Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce

1: The Review as a Form of Welcome ONE summer night a man stood on a low hill overlooking a wide expanse of forest and field. By the full moon hanging low in the west he knew what he might not have known otherwise: that it was near the hour of dawn. A light mist lay along the earth, partly veiling the lower features of the landscape, but above it the taller trees showed in well- defined masses against a clear sky. Two or three farmhouses were visible through the haze, but in none of them, naturally, was a light. Nowhere, in- deed, was any sign or suggestion of life except the barking of a distant dog, which, repeated with mechanical iteration, served rather to accentuate than dispel the loneliness of the scene.     The man looked curiously about him on all sides, as one who among familiar surroundings is unable to determine his exact place and part in the scheme of things. It is so, perhaps, that we shall act when, risen from the dead, we await the call to judgment.     A hundred yard