A country dance was being held in a garden
I felt a bump and heard an "Oh, beg your pardon"
Suddenly I saw polka dots and moonbeams
All around a pug-nosed dream
The music started and was I the perplexed one
I held my breath and said "May I have the next one?"
In my frightened arms, polka dots and moonbeams
Sparkled on a pug-nosed dream
There were questions in the eyes of other dancers
As we floated over the floor
There were questions but my heart knew all the answers
And perhaps a few things more
Now in a cottage built of lilacs and laughter
I know the meaning of the words "Ever after"
And I'll always see polka dots and moonbeams
When I kiss the pug-nosed dream
0 Replies
Letty
1
Reply
Mon 24 Nov, 2014 11:31 am
Once again calling all musicians, music lovers, painters, poets and chatters.
My daughter and I have decided that TCM are the very best. We watched this one last evening:
Sir Walter Scott, 1st Baronet, FRSE was a Scottish historical novelist, playwright, and poet. Scott was the first English-language author to have a truly international career in his lifetime.
and, our poem for to day by that wonderful author:
My Native Land
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.
Ah, my Irish friend. So good to see you back with us. That song by Luke Kelly was fantastic. Especially enjoyed the Irish whistle. They resemble flutes to me, euro. Here is a lovely lady singing one of your songs
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
By William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
.
Louis Garrel - Les yeux au ciel (a song about grief)
Les yeux au ciel --- Eyes to heaven
Les nuages blancs dans le bleu parfait --- White clouds in the perfect blue
Nulle trace de dieu au ciel --- Not a trace of God in the sky
Ces nuages lents dans le bleu défait --- Those slow clouds in the haggard blue
Le soleil inonde le ciel --- The sun floods the sky
Mes jours en hiver passés à t'oublier --- [I'm] Spending my winter days forgetting you
Où chaque seconde est une poignée de terre --- When every second is a handful of earth
Où chaque minute --- When every minute
Est un sanglot --- Is a sob
Vois comme je lutte --- See how I struggle
Vois ce que je perds --- See how much I'm losing
En sang et en eau --- In blood and water
En sang et en eau --- In blood and water
Je jette au ciel --- I throw in the sky
Ces galets polis --- Those polished pebbles
Que tu peignais en vert --- You used to paint in green
Mais nulle reponse du ciel --- But there's no answer from the sky
Nul ricochet sur cette mer a l'envers --- No ricochet on this upside-down sea
Le soleil inonde le ciel --- The sun floods the sky
Mes jours en enfer passés a t'enterrer --- [I'm] Spending my days in hell burying you
Où chaque seconde est une poignée de terre --- When every second is a handful of dirt
Où chaque minute --- When every minute
Est un caveau --- Is a vault
Vois comme je lutte --- See how I struggle
Vois ce que je perds --- See how much I'm losing
En sang et en eau --- In blood and water
En sang et en eau --- In blood and water
J'éspère qu'au ciel --- I hope that, in the sky,
Des diables malins coupent aux anges leurs ailes --- Malicious devils cut angels' wings
Pour que tu retombes du ciel --- So that you fall back from the sky
Dans mes bras ouverts --- Into my open arms
Cadeau providenciel --- A Heaven-sent present
Mais chaque seconde est une poignée de terre --- But every second is a handful of dirt
Mais chaque seconde est une poignée de terre --- But every second is a handful of dirt
Mais chaque minute --- But every minute
Est un tombeau --- Is a vault
Vois comme je lutte --- See how I struggle
Vois ce que je perds --- See how much I'm losing
En sang et en eau --- In blood and water
En sang et en eau --- In blood and water
0 Replies
eurocelticyankee
1
Reply
Mon 24 Nov, 2014 01:49 pm
@Letty,
Love Orla playing the harp, Miss Letty.
Olivier, nice tune, Louis's a right downer eh!.
Here is a poem by the man himself WBY and the song to accompany it. I'm sure your're familiar with it.
Donovan sang it but here it is sung by Christy Moore. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rz_m8TnHhYw
The Song of Wandering Aengus
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
0 Replies
Letty
1
Reply
Mon 24 Nov, 2014 01:59 pm
Great having Ireland and France with us.
Olivier great song by Scoren. the translation was sad, Mon Ami.
Yes, Les yeux au ciel is a sad song... but a good, uplifting form of sad. :-)
A bouncy one now, for forgiveness:
(Laurent Voulzy's family is from the French Caribbeans. In this song, he pays homage to this heritage, singing largely in Creole and using traditional instruments and rhythms.)
