Autumn: Why does my heart

There is yet still time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaqTAa2OvMo

We're looking at an Autumn of Discontent upcoming. Those who follow the news of dhimmitude in our Modern world are likely deeply dismayed, in spite of whatever good news we might find on our collective horizon with the election in November. Dhimmitude is increasingly worse, not better, and an election of conservatives is not likely to improve our lot to any serious degree. It's bad, and it gets worse daily. A Republican victory over-all in Congress is not going to improve things much for us. Improvement, if there is to be any at all, will not come from government: it is the Will of the People that will improve our free nations.

I look at the final scene from Blackhawk Down, and I could ... I could do any number of things. But my heart feels so bad.

I leave us then with a poem I particularly love, and I hope it pleases you, dear reader, and perhaps that it gives you some strength to carry on this endless battle for our nation's good and for our own.

[Translation follows]

Rainer Maria Rilke,"Herbsttag"

Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.

Befiel den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.

Rainer Maria Rilke

This translation is by Guntram Deichsel:

Autumn Day

Lord, it is time. Let the great summer go,
Lay your long shadows on the sundials,
And over harvest piles let the winds blow.

Command the last fruits to be ripe;
Grant them some other southern hour,
Urge them to completion, and with power
Drive final sweetness to the heavy grape.

Who's homeless now, will for long stay alone.
No home will build his weary hands,
He'll wake, read, write letters long to friends
And will the alleys up and down
Walk restlessly, when falling leaves dance.

English: (C) Guntram Deichsel. Biberach, Germany 1987/93