The Treasure Hunter

A blog by Joanne Yatvin

A Spanish Song Spelled Wrong


Can anyone sing the song below ? If you can do that I will praise you publicly! If no one is able to read my misspelled Spanish words, I will repeat them in English tomorrow .

QUANDO SE QIUERO DE BEROS

COMMO TE QIUERO YO A TI

ES IMPOSBLE ME SIERO

TAN SEPARADOS VIVERE

TAN SEPARADOS VIVERE

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The Language of Love


Today’s song was written and sent to me by Don Bellairs, a friend that I would like to see again someday. I have repeated the chorus because that is what he did.

I have learned some secrets from the angels
I have been privy to the innermost discussions of some Holy Ghosts
Most of my minor deities divulge their dark desires to me
For I have learned the language of love

In the gossip of the galaxies are universal truths
That are whispered by the Lion to the Dove
Beneath the Tree of Knowledge lie the spoils of fallen fruits
That have been ripened by the language of love

Some people call me a mad, mad man
But I just can’t imagine what they might be thinking of
Because, to me, there can be nothing much sadder than
Those who haven’t learned the language of love

Today a man might be your enemy; tomorrow he may become your friend
The only true wisdom is humility*…for we are all in this together ’til the end.

I take counsel from the sinners; I take comfort from the saints
For I have learned that they are basically the same
Before God paints His masterpiece, He has to mix the paints
And He usually uses joy to tint the shame

Some people call me a mad, mad man
But I just can’t imagine what they might be thinking of
Because, to me, there can be nothing sadder than
Those who haven’t learned the language of love

If you like this song, just thank Don Bellairs here; I don’t have his address, but would be happy to send it on to you if he sends it to me.

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A Sweat Song to Sing


Today I will send you another song I loved long ago. I still want to sing it when I’m alone. It may sound sad to you today, but to me it always sounds beautiful

Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love it is a hunger, an endless aching need. I say love, it is a flower, and you it’s only seed.

It’s the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It’s the the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It’s the one who won’t be taken, who cannot seem to give, and the soul afraid of dying’ that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely and the road has been to long, and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong. Just remember in the winter far beneath the winter snows, lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring, becomes the rose.

As I wrote this today I also sang it, and I wish I could do that for you now. But maybe it’s better for you not to hear my old cracking voice.

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Deer friends,

I feel that it is very important for me to communicate with others. You may not need that action, but I do. Here, at the River Mark, only about five to ten people are visible at any time, and they have little to say or do. Of course I am no better than anyone else.

My biggest problem is not waking up on time to exercise because I stay up too late at night in order to watch the news. (My clock is working, but not making any sound to wake me up.) Fortunately, this morning I did wake up on time and got to exercise. (Aren’t you thrilled to get that information?) Believe me, if I had anything more interesting to write I would include it. (Just be grateful that I can still spell words.)

To my knowledge, nothing much is happening here and everybody is bored or boring. However, a poster claims there will be a film in the auditorium this afternoon. If so, that will be the first one for me and I am eager to see it. I’ll let you know what it was tomorrow.

I do watch television, but I am not good at finding things worth seeing or hearing. (Managing the machine is not one of my skills.)

Well, that’s all the news I have for today. Tomorrow I will try to post a new song instead of blabbering. Stay well everyone, and if you are able, tell me what you are doing, even if it is just eating and scratching your nose.

Joanne

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A sad,Yet Beautiful, Song


I suspect that many other people are in the same shape I am now in, but I don’t want to complain about that. My only wish is to share a song with you–if you are interested. If, not, shut me down before I begin.

How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? How many seas must a white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand? How many times must the cannon balls fly before the’re forever banned? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowing in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist before it is washed to the sea? How many years can some people exist before they’re allowed to be free? How many times can a man turn his head pretending he just doesn’t see? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowing in the wind.

How many times must a man look up before he can see the sky? How many ears must one man have before he can hear people cry ? How many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind The answer is blowing in the wind.

God bless all of you. Writing helps me to think, so I hope it doesn’t bother you.

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