|Farewell to Summer|
With another approaching school year and the first typhoon (Ambo) paying us a visit, summer is officially over. But not in this blog where summer is just starting. Boracay will be revisited in the coming posts as well as a feature on a white beach of Poctoy. For now, let me share to you snapshots of a beach in Culasi, Antique with a view of Malalison and Batbatan Islands.
Culasi is an interesting destination on its own. It's attractions include the Majestic Mount Madja-as, the Rio Guintongaban, Malalison, Batbatan and Maniguin Islands. One needs to spend at least two days to explore this idyllic town or include this in an itinerary that includes a trip to Tibiao and Pandan. This place is usually not too touristy so those who aspire off-the beaten tracks will have the time of their lives there.
Unfortunately, I was only here for a few hours in transit while waiting for a bus ride to Boracay. I took the opportunity to ask around for a beach instead of waiting in a terminal and luckily, this scene, is just few minutes walking distance from the terminal. Next time, I will see to it that I will spend more rime here.
|Weep! weep! oh, tearful skies,|
While summer gently dies,
And let us bid her sad farewell;
There are no tears so dear
As yours, nor so sincere,
Nor to our hearts such solace tell.
|The trees with beauteous green|
The leaves no longer screen,
But to the sun their verdure sell;
He gives them glittering gold,
And colors manifold,
How short their day 'twere vain to tell.
|Let the wind sadly sigh|
O'er flowers that withered lie,
In sover mead, or verdant dell;
Under the falling leaves,
The shroud that autumn weaves,
They sleep, that once we loved so well.
|Early the waning light|
Fades from our pensive sight,
While deeply tolls the evening bell;
Over the tree-tops tall,
Night treads her airy hall,
And silent listens to the knell.
|By the night coldly kissed,|
The silvery ghostly mist
Wakes from its slumbrous earthy cell;
Wanders beneath the trees,
Moved by each passing breeze,
Where late the burning sunshine fell.
|Not with rare flow'rets gay|
Make we a last bouquet,
But mint, and rue, and asphodel;
These are our chosen flowers,
Now that the summer hours
No more our hearts with gladness swell.
|Beneath the stars' faint gleam|
Moves on the placid stream,
And towards the sea doth flow and swell;
So doth our life-stream flee
On towards infinity,
Where no abiding sorrows dwell.
Farewell! Poem by Bernard Mc Evoy.