Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Birthday present roundup

From sister and nephews:
Spiderman comic from November 1965 (not mint, but extremely touching)
Travel mug
Bicycling jersey
Bike speedometer

From mum:
Jar of marmelade, serving as a deposit on a bottle of scotch, to be delivered when sister et al. visit this summer.

From dad:
Complete 10-volume set of The Story of Civilization by Will and Ariel Durant (which has been in my family for almost as long as I have, and which I have coveted for years). Must have cost him a small fortune to send it!

From S.
Scandinavia: at war with trolls. A history from the Napoleonic era to the third millennium by Tony Griffiths
CD: Best of Bowie (including bonus DVD)
Nine Horses by Billy Collins.
And the folllowing poem (after "Soir d'hiver" by Émile Nelligan)

Ah! come le temps a passé
Ma vie est un jardin d'amour
Ah! comme la vie m'a gâtée
Qu'est-ce que la vie, mon amour
... l'amour que j'ai, que j'ai.


Aisha said...

A poem in itself -- a list poem.
Very moving.
You are loved by your nearest, heck! even by your furthest -- Lori on AIM, and my call was a deposit on you two coming to the country of trolls summer after next...

Aisha said...

I checked the original poem:
what a beautiful one S made: another non-poet crossing over!

Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Ma vie est un jardin de givre.
Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Qu'est-ce que le spasme de vivre
Ô la douleur que j'ai, que j'ai!
Gonna look up givre now--

Tell S she's brilliant at it...and French is so beautiful it makes it TOO easy (SOUR GRAPES) :)

Peter Garner said...


Thanks. I'll tell S. you liked her poem. I think she has a real instinct for poetry, but she only writes for special occasions. I'm trying to convince her otherwise, but she says she's not that interested... Ah well.

BTW, the last line of the Nelligan should start with
"A la douleur..." not "Ô la douleur"... and givre is frost.


paula said...

I am late and catching up. Really, Peter, in the list of gifts you have received there is a poem, and you have another poet in your home. Tell Sonia she has to write more.