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Sudhi
ParticipantDespite irritating US, India deepens Russia ties, embraces multipolarity
By S.L. Kanthan
https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202407/1315627.shtml?id=11Russia-India: A Particularly Privileged Strategic Partnership
By Karl Sanchez
Results of Modi-Putin Summit and Joint Statement:
https://karlof1.substack.com/p/russia-india-a-particularly-privileged?utm_source=post-banner&utm_medium=web&utm_campaign=posts-open-in-app&triedRedirect=trueParticipantWhy the “Englishwoman shits”
by Dmitry Orekhov
https://m.vz.ru/opinions/2024/7/7/1273641.html…What can I say? Hate and contempt are bad teachers. In the last hundred years, the most powerful empire in the world has been blown away to a small country, whose entire brave army will now fit in London’s Wembley Stadium. The Englishman has intrigued a lot, but more and more often he himself remains a fool; the Russian has been deceived many times, but gradually gets smarter. Our current turn to the East is related to our gradual recovery: we are learning to act and think in a new way. And we didn’t have any hatred for the British, and we don’t have any. As for the attitude of the British towards Russia, it is unlikely that it will ever change. On this occasion, a sad anecdote from the British Isles.
An English soldier bayoneted an Irishman. The Irishman dies slowly in the gutter, and the soldier occasionally kicks him with his boot. On his last breath, the dying man gets up and asks:: “Why do you hate us so much?” The Englishman leans over and says through gritted teeth, ” And you don’t get it yet?! We will never forgive you for what we did to you!”
ParticipantMichael Hudson:
We Need a New Political VocabularyJuly 7, 2024 at 13:08 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 21.6.24 #35324Participant“I can’t do otherwise”
– Valentina Tolkunova (1982)
Lyrics and translation:There is no sleep or day without anxiety.
A zhaleika is crying somewhere.
Forgive me for my love,
I can’t do otherwise.I am not afraid of insults and quarrels,
The insult will flow into the river.
There is such space in the sky of love,
My heart is not a stone.If you get sick, I’ll come,
I’ll spread the pain with my hands.
I can do everything, I can do everything,
My heart is not a stone.I will fly – you tell me,
I will go through the storm and the flame,
I just will not forgive the cold lie, –
My heart is not a stone.You see – a star lit up in the night,
Whispering a fairy tale to my son.
Only heartlessness ruins us,
Love and affection heal.I will melt the pieces of ice
with my hot heart.
I will always love you,
I can’t do otherwise.June 28, 2024 at 12:36 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 21.6.24 #34576Participant“The Triumph of Dullness”
By Alexander Pope (1688–1744)
Closing Lines of the ‘Dunciad’IN vain, in vain,—the all-composing hour
Resistless falls; the Muse obeys the power.
She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold
Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old!
Before her Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,
And all its varying rainbows die away.Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires.
As one by one, at dread Medea’s strain,
The sickening stars fade off th’ ethereal plain;
As Argus’s eyes, by Hermes’s wand opprest,
Closed one by one to everlasting rest:
Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,
Art after Art goes out, and all is night.
See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,
Mountains of casuistry heaped o’er her head!Philosophy, that leaned on Heaven before,
Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.
Physic of Metaphysic begs defense,
And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense!
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!
In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;
And universal darkness buries all.
*****
Context: At the end of this poem, the poet shows all England delivered over to the Goddess Dullness, who says, “. . . make one mighty Dunciad of the land.” At her word, churches, chapels, and schools lose their sense, the people yawn and sleep. Army, navy, and diplomatic corps all sleep, too. With the muse’s help, the poet shows primeval night and chaos creeping across the land to take possession. Art after art leaves the scene; truth flies to a cavern; philosophy and morality expire. Nothing is left in the world once Dullness establishes her empire.
https://www.enotes.com/topics/dunciad/quotes/universal-darkness-buries-allParticipantThe hegemon missed more and more often, and finally began to miss constantly. The world has ceased to be American. The US can still kill individual politicians, but it is no longer able to control the planet.
The time of retribution is fast approaching.
– Rostislav Ishchenko
https://ukraina.ru/20240627/1055868976.htmlParticipantThe Tribune’s Editor-in-Chief Jyoti Malhotra spoke to Russia’s pointperson in charge of South Asia in the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Presidential envoy for Afghanistan Zamir Kabulov in Moscow on PM Modi’s forthcoming visit to Russia, on Russia’s impending removal of the Taliban from its “terror list” and more. Here is the full interview :
June 25, 2024 at 13:42 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 21.6.24 #34259ParticipantJune 21, 2024 at 12:40 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 21.6.24 #33889ParticipantJune 20, 2024 at 13:07 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 25.4.24 #33779ParticipantWhich road has a better claim
When all roads lead to RamJune 19, 2024 at 13:04 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 25.4.24 #33700ParticipantJune 18, 2024 at 12:10 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 25.4.24 #33579ParticipantThe Road Not Taken
by Robert FrostTwo roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.June 17, 2024 at 12:13 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 25.4.24 #33482ParticipantJune 13, 2024 at 13:39 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 25.4.24 #33125Participant“Tita” means pungent, hot, spicy taste
June 13, 2024 at 13:29 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glories, 25.4.24 #33124Participant -
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