Dadaist manifesto

Dada prose

I don't know what reality is. You think that you can understand reality,and you can understand reality. I don't know what to make of the warning signs and symptoms of the disease control! We are not meant to understand everything that is not needed to know about viruses. We don't ponder the world! This is a very important part of the world as we know it,and the world as we know it is not appropriate for real estate agents to know about! You are confusing God with the Bible. You think that you are not operating according to a narrative.We are not meant for the craziness of dialectical materialism. The new Copernican revolution comes soon as we know it,and the world says that you can understand truth and reality. God is power in the world,and I am not knowing of the masculinity and girls club of the world as we know it. That is not reality show about a video on the logos.

THE POEM by nabokov

Written in Russian and translated by VN himself

THE POEM

Not the sunset poem you make when you think
aloud,
with its linden tree in India ink
and the telegraph wires across its pink
cloud;

not the mirror in you and her delicate bare
shoulder still glimmering there;
not the lyrical click of a pocket rhyme—
the tiny music that tells the time;

and not the pennies and weights on those
evening papers piled up in the rain;
not the cacodemons of carnal pain;
not the things you can say so much better in plain prose—

but the poem that hurtles from heights unknown
—when you wait for the splash of the stone
deep below, and grope for your pen,
and then comes the shiver, and then—

in the tangle of sounds, the leopards of words,
the leaflike insects, the eye-spotted birds
fuse and form a silent, intense,
mimetic pattern of perfect sense.

TO RUSSIA by nabokov

Will you leave me alone? I implore you!
Dusk is ghastly. Life's noises subside.
I am helpless. And I am dying
Of the blind touch of your whelming tide.

He who freely abandons his country
on the heights to bewail it is free.
But now I am down in the valley
and now do not come close to me.

I'm prepared to lie hidden forever
and to live without name. I'm prepared,
lest we only in dreams come together,
all conceivable dreams do forswear;

to be drained of my blood, to be crippled,
to have done with the books I most love,
for the first available idiom
to exchange all I have: my own tongue.

But for that, through the tears, oh, Russia,
through the grass of two far-parted tombs,
through the birch tree's tremulous macules,
through all that sustained me since youth,

with your blind eyes, your dear eyes, cease looking
at me, oh, pity my soul,
do not rummage around in the coalpit,
do not grope for my life in this hole

because years have gone by and centuries,
and for sufferings, sorrow, and shame,
too late—there is no one to pardon
and no one to carry the blame.

cold war

mash

ramen noodles korean style

challah

Annabel Lee BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

It was many and many a year ago,

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

   I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

   My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

   And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

   Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

   In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

   Of those who were older than we—

   Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

   Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulchre there by the sea—

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

don quixote in hindi

joy to the world!

joy to the world! we shall yet be light! Joy to us all for always! Now is the day for battle. now is the time for triumph! Now we will go forth in glorious array! Now we shall go forth for the grandeur of battle. were we ever in despair of the the enemy? No, for we have always put the armies of the aliens to flight, for how could it be otherwise. we shall arise, and we shall triumph against the darkest of the dementors, for it is by the beauty of the little child that they shall triumph! Arise my soul! This is your day, and we will conquer, and we will win, and we will rule the universe!