Det bodde engang en engelskmann i kommunen her som beskjeftiget seg med å skrive dikt.
Jeg har ikkke sett ham på lenge, derfor husker jeg ikke navnet hans, men jeg syntes diktet beskriver øya på en vakker måte så jeg vil gjerne dele det med leserne. Kanskje noen har et bilde som passer? Selv er jeg ingen fotograf.
CRETE
Rugged, brooding over glittering sea,
Steeped in emerald green along its golden shores
There is an island rising in the midst of the ocean
With misty peaks, beaconing to seafarers
With sunny slopes clad in shimmering
Olive grooves, where herdsmen tend to roaming flocks
Minos! Your jewel of the sea,
Where gods took abode on your lofty mountains
Shrouded in mystery and beauty,
Awaits you with her bliss
In the deep of the night, friend, if you listen,
You can hear his cry, his empire gone to the waves
But his spirit lingers on,
In its rocks, its hills, its valleys, its shores, in your soul
Dikter ukjent
Jeg har ikkke sett ham på lenge, derfor husker jeg ikke navnet hans, men jeg syntes diktet beskriver øya på en vakker måte så jeg vil gjerne dele det med leserne. Kanskje noen har et bilde som passer? Selv er jeg ingen fotograf.
CRETE
Rugged, brooding over glittering sea,
Steeped in emerald green along its golden shores
There is an island rising in the midst of the ocean
With misty peaks, beaconing to seafarers
With sunny slopes clad in shimmering
Olive grooves, where herdsmen tend to roaming flocks
Minos! Your jewel of the sea,
Where gods took abode on your lofty mountains
Shrouded in mystery and beauty,
Awaits you with her bliss
In the deep of the night, friend, if you listen,
You can hear his cry, his empire gone to the waves
But his spirit lingers on,
In its rocks, its hills, its valleys, its shores, in your soul
Dikter ukjent