Jedním ze způsobů, jak můžete průběžně pracovat na svých jazykových schopnostech a dovednostech je prostřednictvím vlastní tvorby. Mnoho z vás se jistě čas od času pokusí o nějakou tu básničku či povídku. Proč tedy nezkusit tvořit nejen pro radost, ale také v rámci učení se cizímu jazyku?
One way of gradually working on your language skills is by means of producing your own pieces of literature. Many of you definitely attempt to put together the odd poem or a short story every now and then. So, how about trying to produce something not just for the sake of pleasure, but also as a way of learning a foreign language?
Produktivní práce má hned několik plusů. Při tvoření jste nuceni vyhledávat nová slovíčka, zlepšuje se váš celkový písemný projev a navíc jde po všech ohledech o aktivitu příjemnou. Ti soutěživí z vás mohou navíc své příspěvky zasílat do různých soutěží a třeba i něco vyhrát.
Pokud si myslíte, že na vlastní tvorbu nemáte cizí jazyk zvládnutý na dostatečné úrovni, neházejte hned flintu do žita. Všechno chce čas a cizí jazyky obzvláště. I když vaše prácičky nebudou třeba zprvu nijak zvlášť esteticky hodnotné, co na tom záleží? Žádný učený z nebe nespadl a i ti nejlepší básníci a prozaici museli nějak začít. No ne?
Pokud jsem vám nyní nasadil brouka do hlavy a vy se vrhnete do tvoření, neváhejte se s námi o vaše dílka podělit – budeme jenom rádi!
K motivaci přikládám ukázku z vlastní tvorby. Ač jde o dílko neumělé, tvořivý proces jsem si náramně užil a o to přesně jde.
***
Wonderland
roman298
In the realm of my parallel world,
In the pitch-black depths of night,
I browse through memories unfurled
Of the days when my heart was bright.
In the world that’s void of struggling,
In the world that’s rid of schemes,
I cavort and frolic and revel in juggling
With the blunt-edged shards of broken dreams.
This haven of mine has flaws alright,
It ain’t a fairytale land after all,
Yet, I know nothing of a thing called fright,
For I may stagger, but I shan‘t fall.
I’m not alone here, perish the thought,
I sing with birds and race with does,
I grow roses and tulips on a tiny plot,
There just ain’t no place for fiends or foes.
My fantastical world has but one glitch,
Its doors are open for a shortish time,
The gatekeeper heeds not if you’re rich,
He won’t get cajoled by your rhyme.
And so when the bell sends out its chimes,
And the stony guard then wags his finger,
I bid my farewell and think of good times
Which fill me with hope that can’t but linger.
Photo Credit: sure2talk via Compfight cc
There are several positives about productive work. When producing, you are forced to look up unknown words, your overall written performance is getting better in the process, and what‘s more, the whole activity is highly pleasurable in all respects. To sweeten the pot, those more competitive of you can also submit your works to miscellaneous writing contests and maybe even win something.
If you think your mastery of a foreign language is not sufficient for producing your own works, do not lose heart. Everything needs its time, especially when we are talking about languages. Even though your works may not be very aesthetically valuable at first, what does it matter? There is no shame in not knowing, and even the greatest poetry and prose writers had to start somehow. Right?
If I have just put a bee in your bonnet and you get down to producing things, do not hesitate to share your pieces with us – we will honestly appreciate it!
To motivate you a bit, I am appending a piece of my own. Although it is rather crude, I did enjoy the creative process immensely and that is exactly what the whole thing is all about.
***
Wonderland
roman298
In the realm of my parallel world,
In the pitch-black depths of night,
I browse through memories unfurled
Of the days when my heart was bright.
In the world that’s void of struggling,
In the world that’s rid of schemes,
I cavort and frolic and revel in juggling
With the blunt-edged shards of broken dreams.
This haven of mine has flaws alright,
It ain’t a fairytale land after all,
Yet, I know nothing of a thing called fright,
For I may stagger, but I shan‘t fall.
I’m not alone here, perish the thought,
I sing with birds and race with does,
I grow roses and tulips on a tiny plot,
There just ain’t no place for fiends or foes.
My fantastical world has but one glitch,
Its doors are open for a shortish time,
The gatekeeper heeds not if you’re rich,
He won’t get cajoled by your rhyme.
And so when the bell sends out its chimes,
And the stony guard then wags his finger,
I bid my farewell and think of good times
Which fill me with hope that can’t but linger.
Photo Credit: sure2talk via Compfight cc
Beautiful poem