Įdomiausias „Metų” veikėjas. Jis yra visiems žinomas, visų mėgstamas, sugebantis visiems įtikti kaimo seniūnas. Tarpininkas tarp būrų ir ponų. Kristijonas Donelaitis was a Prussian Lithuanian poet and Lutheran pastor. He lived and worked in Lithuania Minor, a territory in the Kingdom of Prussia, that had a sizable Lithuanian-speaking minority. He wrote the first classic Lithuanian language poem, The Seasons (Lithuanian: Metai). Kristijonas Donelaitis’ Metai in der Tradi- tion nationaler Epen in Europa / Kristijono Donelaičio Metai. Europos nacionalinių epų tradicijoje.

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Did we expect, awaiting some stoop shouldered autumn, That we’d fade so suddenly and fail so fast? Another brother, Michael, inherited the father’s farm. Then the two, after their heavy toil and labor, Flew off swiftly to a marsh, to fish their dinner. Whether little serf or master empties his bowels, One must wipe his bottom with a strip of linen, Then must wash his dirty diaper out in water.

Explicit use of et al. We need time, so let us wait the time in patience. Often Lithuanians also number bounders Who dknelaitis hop about and speak in Lithuanian, Donealitis bring their disgrace on us like real Germans!

About author Kristijonas Donelaits donelaits one of the most original writers of European Enlightenment, a classic of Lithuanian literature. Thus the world begins again to welcome the winter.

Kristijonas Donelaitis ”Metai” by gintare daujotaite on Prezi

All these meats the Krizas’ cook so chopped and pounded, Violently boiled and roasted for the wedding, Such a roar and tumult mtai along the street Startled village neighbor Pauluks with amazement. Many of us, bloated to the full, stupidly, Find a taste for singing German songs and curses, And like Germans, run to taverns every day.

Haven’t we, poor wretches, worked and worked the fields? Woodcut from “The Seasons” by V. Then, when they had donelatis some few toads and froglets, They thanked God with all their faith and hearts.

Well, I guess it’s time: Faithful as a true companion, I’ve instructed you, Not in German, not in French have I donelaltis you, But in peasant manner, like a trusted friend I have spoken openly, as words came to me. These old melancholy fields alone remain; Their loveliness is with us like a sunken grave Such a man will hustle roundly till he’s drooping, Bow before his meager supper with contentment, Haying eaten, thank the Lord with satisfaction, Roll into his bed, bedrowsed but strong and happy.


Views Read Edit View history. InRheza also published the fables. Some, mefai crests as awe-inspiring princes, Others, slogging through the muck as diggers of cowdung.

Daily dimming, she begrudges us her donelatiis, Daily longer, shadows yawn and stretch before us. Inhe passed the required examination to become a pastor in Donelaitiss. Donelaitis by his work aspired to reinforce the moral values developed by the nation through ages, to uproot vices, to develop spiritual resistance of the nation.

He wrote the first classic Lithuanian language poem, The Seasons Lithuanian: Let us give, but let us give with sense and reason; How long winter may go on we do not know, Nor foresee how much we’ll have by Holy Easter. The other two were destroyed during the Napoleonic Wars. Donelaitis was born at Lasdinehlen estate near GumbinnenEast Prussia. Babbling on so, they forget even their tasks!

Donelitis man at his birth is like a simple bud — First his blossom will unfold and open out, Then, his flowering over and himself divested.

Who would earn for such playfarers every item Of their tasty dinners and delicious drinks? Doesn’t each calf, when the earth first ices over, Give itself in perfect faith to our true care And, eyes fixed on our two palms, await its fodder?

Kristijonas Donelaitis “Metai” by Laima Kuusaitė on Prezi

Like a vision which, through sleep, we saw so surely Yet, on waking, shyly shared and barely mentioned, That was how the joy of summer passed away Retrieved 17 February Trivial man, thou, learn at last to be contented! Now the wedding guests, at their ease, having eaten And too generously quaffed their heavy draughts, Quite forgot to say their prayers, as Christians should, And like pigs of manor serf emtai shame to tell itSoon began to sing and squeal out swinish ditties.


As Saint David tells us, we are fragile beings; Like the flowers in the fields, we grow and blossom. It’s no riddle; scoffing megai the chores of peasants, Lazy, shamming good, they overstuff their stomachs; We, the serfs they scorn, our stomachs light with skimmings, Buttermilk and whey, we hurry-scurry briskly; With a snatch of bacon or Lithuanian sausage, We work better at the labors forced upon us. It consisted of four idyllstotaling 2, hexameters.

Ah, where are you now, you wondrous days of spring, When we, re-opening the windows of the cottage, Welcomed back your first warm flood of sunshine?

Look, how everywhere on pondwater panes are appearing Just as, in that house, a glazier is putting in windows. Now not only do they preen in German dresses. God grant you goodly springtimes in abundance; Strapping and carousing, may you live to meet them.

Culture and customs of the Baltic states. What’s the good that Mikols gives the world his presence, Bobbles bloated paunch, himself puffed like a bladder? Beetles, mosquitos, flies, a bounce of fleas Formed their batallions everywhere to plague us And sting both peasant and his genteel Sir.

Then, creature we cherish, not even you appear; Like us, you lie silent in the shield of darkness, There in dreams, perhaps, capturing foolish flies.

Kristijonas Donelaitis

Later, solemnly, the guests read out “Our Father,” Then sat down to table in the Christian way. His father died inleaving seven children four sons and three daughters.

In the fall and winter we take to our bedding And snore, all nestled up beside the kindly oven. You, our heavenly benefactor! Nesselmannwho prepared an edition in His parents were free peasants who owned the land that they cultivated. Before, how smoothly two old horses dragged our load; Now, with donelaiti good horses struggling, we bog down, Wheel on axle, groaning, gags and, grinding, turns.