The West winds tumble fallen leaves;
Autumn 's yellow, though blooms are shy;
I brush at dust upon my sleeves;
The horses' hoofprints dot the frost;
Moonlit cocks crow amid grain sheaves;
The road to town: no passersby.
Fame 's not gained by effort or skill,
And would fade away ten years hence.
Please don't dance, but drink your fill.
Six Dynasty tales flow away:
Diluted as waters spread and spill.
The world feels like dream and pretense.
Having been raised in a Catholic household, I wouldn’t have this name if one or more saints hadn’t already. In my case, there are several Saint Bernards, and I don’t know that my parents had any particular one in mind. As far as I know, none were associated with Ireland, from whence my ancestry lies. [St. Bernard of Clairvaux seems to be the most famous St. Bernard – he’s “The St. Bernard,” if you will – excepting of course Chris the St. Bernard dog who starred in the 1992 movie “Beethoven” whose name was actually Chris and his breed was “St. Bernard” so, technically, Clairvaux is still king of the St. Bernards.] I also know that it’s not the first time this name appeared in my genealogical line, but don’t know much more than that.
I understand the etymology of the name is Germanic and that it means something like “Bear Hardy,” with which I’m pleased. (Could have been much worse — e.g. “Squirrel Brave” or “Bear Smelling.”)
The Ballad of Mulan: 木兰辞 by Song Nan Zhang
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were -- I have not seen
As other saw -- I could not bring
My passions from a common spring ---
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow -- I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone --
And all I lov'd -- I lov'd alone --
Then -- in my childhood -- in the dawn
Of a most stormy life -- was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still --
From the torrent, or the fountain --
From the red cliff of the mountain --
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold --
From the lightening in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by --
From the thunder, and the storm --
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view --
What’s your dream job?
One that involves interacting with only a small group of familiar people, and which allows for a great deal of deep thought and introspection. (And for the tricky part to reconcile,) one that involves / or allows for a good deal of travel.
My mother groan'd! my father wept.
Into the dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud:
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my father's hands,
Striving against my swadling bands.
Bound and weary I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 