Előre köszönöm aki segít és időt szán rá.
'Time-out' Princes boost gap year travel.
More youngsters than ever will decide to delay their higher education this summer as 50,000 school leavers begin a 'gap year' between A-levels and university. Students take a year out to travel the world or to work to pay for their studies. Some observers suggest that the trend has been caused by the 'princes' effect. Prince Harry is among school leavers taking a year out to australia. He follows in the footsteps of his brother William, who travelled to Africa and Chile.
Tom Griffiths,the founder of gapyear.com, which specialises in gap year planning,said: 'three of the most popular activities for a gap year are: earning money for university, work experience and helping out in the community.'
For those who do not have anything to do during the year, he has started website service similar to the one matching students to university places. They can find out about what opportunities exist worldwide. The list of options includes such activities ad ' Wild West', a one-month 775$ course in learning to ride horses in Montana in the USA. Those who take a year out spend an average of four months abroad, and typically spend 3000:$.Six out of ten are young women.
WOLF-First Wild Dog
by Charles W. Russell - 1997
Howling high on a mountain top,
Sending shivers up my spine,
Stands a lonely sentinel
Calling to others of his kind.
The last of a vanishing breed.
His crime -- the need to eat.
His mate has a liter waiting,
For Dad to bring home some meat.
Ranchers say he's a threat
To the little ones in their herd.
But to hunt him to extinction
Is meaningless and absurd.
A way has to be found for all
God's creatures to coexist.
To bring harmony and justice
To Wolves, and Gorillas in the mist.
So, before you condemn him,
Or shoot him -- even worse
Remember the Wolf, like Indians
Inhabited this land first.
The Wolf-King's Lament
by Francisco de Borja Roca - 1999
An old, grey-maned King am I,
Barking my gruff orders under Orion's sky
And, beneath my throne of dew and stone
My people, all sinew and bone,
Flashing fangs and eyes of smold'ring coals,
Haunched on brawny hinds they do attend me.
Ah, my soul is gnarled, like gnarled the tree
I nightly choose for blessed sleep;
Aye, the Hunt has tired me-
'Tis only Time's matter
Till a brash whelp's challenge
Brings me 'neath the turf of my shady fief.
Yet I was strong once, if still it matters;
Aye, my quarters taut, my shadow lean and gaunt
Yet brimm'd with power- unlike now, so much more tame,
My ribs a bony rigging
For my raggé¤¬ scar-creased frame.
They have called me Heather-Sceptered, Oak-Garbed,
Star-Crowned Ruler of the Hunt.
Yet look ye now... where is this night-caped regnant?
Nothing but a weak, starving bag
Holding the bones of former days am I,
Howling former glories to the Moon and stars-
At times I think the Moon howls back,
The white-skinned, tight-snouted bitch all mock'ry and jest
Upon my old age, as I curl upon my back for wanted rest
Under the shade of my gnarled oak-tree.
The time is come- can you not hear the howling?
The Hunt is called again...
this time without me.