DONELAITIS METAI PDF
Įdomiausias „Metų” veikėjas. Jis yra visiems žinomas, visų mėgstamas, sugebantis visiems įtikti kaimo seniūnas. Tarpininkas tarp būrų ir ponų. Kristijonas Donelaitis was a Prussian Lithuanian poet and Lutheran pastor. He lived and worked in Lithuania Minor, a territory in the Kingdom of Prussia, that had a sizable Lithuanian-speaking minority. He wrote the first classic Lithuanian language poem, The Seasons (Lithuanian: Metai). Kristijonas Donelaitis’ Metai in der Tradi- tion nationaler Epen in Europa / Kristijono Donelaičio Metai. Europos nacionalinių epų tradicijoje.
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Hail, everchanging world, you’ve kept the feats of springtime; Hail, man too, for you’ve survived to see the summer. Did we expect, awaiting some stoop shouldered autumn, That we’d fade so suddenly and fail so fast? After the school rector died, Donelaitis took over his position. In the fall and winter we take to our bedding And snore, all nestled up beside the kindly oven.
donellaitis The author reveals the way of life of the peasants, their traditions, work and festivals. Tell us, dear bird! Garments of the nobles, exquisitely sewn, And their showy headdress you would scorn to wear; Always, like a peasant-woman, plain, you chatter. Explicit use of et al. Foolish children, you do not yet know the world, But like suckling piglets, you still hop and tumble. Now the sun rose again to rouse the world And laughed to meai down chill winter’s labors.
Therefore all the people turned their faces northward, Most impatient for a winter of dryness, complaining. Later, with the time already here to blossom, One, foppishly skipping like a gentleman, And another, scurrying like a peasant boor, Waste their days of youth away in foolish frolic. Ah, what would lords do if they should lose their peasants, And if such poor people didn’t bring their dung?
And the stork, returning gladly with his neighbors, On the straw roof, landlordlike, clattered his bill. Surely all souls — peasant, lord with arms akimbo, Children who run pantless, and the wheezing old — All admire and all give praise to your good song, As for us all you donelaigis miracles, nightingale!
Metai / The Seasons – Kristijonas Donelaitis
Next time heirs are tucked in, in their elegant trundles, While the kids in huts are shoved to shadowy corners Or, if swaddled, set in shabby straw for their bedding, Ask yourself if they themselves brought much of their riches Of the gentry, not a one was born with his weapons, Nor has any newborn peasant ever deliverad Parts for rakes, his wooden plow, or teeth for a harrow.
No; not to weep, but to rejoice they all came here.
Summer must come again, and we’ll enjoy her balm. Alas, the gardens, too, with all their loveliness — Fresh buds arid blossoms sweet, the beauty of the spring, And its divine perfumes — all, all has passed away! Donelaitis and his works are considered to be an important part of Lithuanian culture, which also led to creation of literature and music works based on Donelaitis’s life and his poem The Seasons.
And how clear it burns! I, donelaits old man, see these marvels and exclaim, Sighing with a woeful wonderment and sorrow: Till the fields bring yield, let us not tire of waiting. Soon the bland weather stroked and woke the fields, Called up herbs of all species from the dead. InRheza also published the fables.
Faithful as a true companion, I’ve instructed you, Not in German, not in French have I praised you, But in donelaitiw manner, like a trusted friend I have spoken openly, as words came to me.
It was published in for the first time and had laid the dondlaitis for the secular Lithuanian literature. Donelaitis by his work aspired to reinforce the moral values developed by the nation through ages, to uproot vices, to develop spiritual resistance of the nation. Like a vision which, through sleep, we saw so surely Yet, on waking, shyly shared and barely mentioned, That was how the joy of summer passed away Again the sun abandons us, mmetai trundles upward, Turns so soon and down the west she sinks so quickly!
What’s the good that Diksas, naked in his riches, Kneels before his hoard of gold and worships, groaning? Daily dimming, she begrudges us her radiance, Daily longer, shadows yawn and stretch before us. Often Lithuanians also number bounders Who can hop about and speak in Lithuanian, Yet bring their disgrace on us like real Germans!
Your voice silences the organ and the cymbal.
The life of peasants goes in circles as the nature does, and is determined by the same laws of ketai God. Well, you see then, how the brief life we call human And the flowering, falling blossoms are the same.
University of California Press. Culture and customs of the Baltic states.
Wikimedia Commons has media related to Kristijonas Donelaitis. What’s the good that Mikols gives the world his presence, Bobbles bloated paunch, himself puffed like a bladder? Then at once, big lord again, his arms akimbo, Monstrous in abuse, torments the wretched man, Or with smirks derides his simple home and cottage. This page was last edited on 5 Decemberat The relations of a human being a peasant with the nature and the God are disclosed, as well as the relations among the people, the peasants and the donlaitis.
Only two original idylls survive. Spiders, in corners motionless, wove yarn Or soundless, climbed the scaffolds of their snares. There, already, we have gone past Martinmas, and Advent now, with Christmas, is almost upon us.
donealitis Then, when they had eaten some few toads and froglets, They thanked God with all their faith and hearts. There, the northern wind has frightened the fields with its scolding So that bogs and swamps are shrinking, contracting themselves to Stop the puddles of mud from their usual splashing and gurgling.