Tinkerbell:Secret of the wings-So many errors !

Did you ever watch a movie , liked it and decide to watch the sequel as well? Whether the answer's yes or no , everyone has noticed at least once the differences between the original movie and the last one in the series . The same case in the Tinkerbell movie series  : in  the first one , the origins of Tinkerbell are told , as she is apparently born from a baby's first laugh .Every fairy from the hollow is present at the ceremony and when it is the time for the protagonist to choose her talent , a representative object of every talent is put on the toadstools .

But the last movie makes it very clearly that fairies from the Winter Woods can't leave that place because of the warm climate that would break their wings .

So it was Halloween's day in Pixie Hollow, huh?

Poetry

Check this poem out:Harmonie du soir

Voici venir les temps où vibrant sur sa tige
Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l'air du soir;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!

Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu'on afflige;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir.

Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu'on afflige,
Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir;
Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige.

Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir,
Du passé lumineux recueille tout vestige!
Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige...
Ton souvenir en moi luit comme un ostensoir!

— Charles Baudelaire

Translation:Evening Harmony

The season is at hand when swaying on its stem
Every flower exhales perfume like a censer;
Sounds and perfumes turn in the evening air;
Melancholy waltz and languid vertigo!

Every flower exhales perfume like a censer;
The violin quivers like a tormented heart;
Melancholy waltz and languid vertigo!
The sky is sad and beautiful like an immense altar.

The violin quivers like a tormented heart,
A tender heart, that hates the vast, black void!
The sky is sad and beautiful like an immense altar;
The sun has drowned in his blood which congeals...

A tender heart that hates the vast, black void
Gathers up every shred of the luminous past!
The sun has drowned in his blood which congeals...
Your memory in me glitters like a monstrance!

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

Touching.I dislike the fact that nowadays it's hard to find someone who likes good poetry.Everytime I ask somene about this particular subject,all I hear is:"Eh,I don't really like poetry" or:"I have better things to do than read poetry".The community has fallen so much.Anyway,I really like this poem.Charles Baudelaire was really good.Not as good as Dostoyevsky.

Scarlett