My job experience,2021
London
Monday, March 22, 2021
Wednesday, March 17, 2021
St. Patrick's Day
Bring out your green! St. Patrick’s Day—observed every March 17—is packed with parades, good luck charms, and all things green. The event started as a religious holiday, but over time it’s become a celebration of Irish culture.St. Patrick was a real person, but some of the traditions associated with him and the holiday are actually myths. For instance, you’ll often see the four-leaf clover on St. Patrick’s Day. However, according to legend, Patrick used a three-leaf clover, or shamrock, as part of his teachings.
The fact that Ireland is an island means that the nation is sometimes called the Emerald Isle. But the color that people originally associated with St. Patrick was blue! Green was finally introduced to St. Patrick’s Day festivities in the 18th century, when the shamrock became a national symbol. Because of the shamrock’s popularity and Ireland’s landscape, the color stuck to the holiday.
Green is also the color that mythical fairies called leprechauns. Leprechauns are actually one reason you’re supposed to wear green on St. Patrick’s Day—or risk getting pinched! Some people also think sporting the color will bring good luck, and others wear it to honor their Irish ancestry. Another tradition includes many Irish-American people eating corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick's Day. People also gather to watch parades of traditional Irish dancers and musicians as they march through city streets. However you celebrate, here’s hoping it’s a lucky day!
Tuesday, March 9, 2021
Taras Shevchenko's poem "My Testament"
Taras Shevchenko
MY TESTAMENT
("Zapovit" / “Iak umru, to pokhovaite”
"Заповіт" / "Як умру, то поховайте")
Translated by Alexander Jardine Hunter
When J die, remember, lay me
Lowly in the silent tomb,
Where the prairie stretches free,
Sweet Ukraine, my cherished home.
There, ’mid meadows’ grassy sward,
Dnieper's waters pouring
May be seen and may be heard,
Mighty in their roaring.
When from Ukraine waters bear
Rolling to the sea so far
Foeman’s blood, no longer there
Stay I where my ashes are.
Grass and hills I’ll leave and fly.
Unto throne of God I’ll go.
There in heaven to pray on high,
But, till then, no God I know.
Standing then about my grave,
Make ye haste, your fetters tear!
Sprinkled with the foeman’s blood
Then shall rise your freedom fair.
Then shall spring a kinship great,
This a family new and free.
Sometimes in your glorious state.
Gently, kindly, speak of me.