Posts Tagged: Song

This beautiful delusion

A song by Over The Rhine – Linford Detweiler and Karin Bergquist

Gentils coquelicots

J’ai descendu dans mon jardin
Pour y cueillir du romarin.

(Refrain)
Gentil coqu’licot, Mesdames,
Gentil coqu’licot, nouveau !

Pour y cueillir du romarin
J’ n’en avais pas cueilli trois brins
Qu’un rossignol vint sur ma main
Il me dit trois mots en latin
Que les homm’s ne valent rien
Et les garçons encor bien moins !
Des dames, il ne me dit rien
Mais des d’moisell’ beaucoup de bien.

And draw us near, And bind us tight… with Leonard Cohen

 


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These are the words of Leonard Cohen to introduce If It Be Thy Will

"It was a while ago faced with some obstacles that I wrote a song, well it’s more of a prayer and I’ll give you the first few lines and then Neil Larsen on the NNB3 and the Webb sisters will unfold the song
If it be your will that I speak no more
And my voice be still as it was before,
I will speak no more
I shall abide until I am spoken for
If it be your will,
If it be your will that a voice be true
From this broken hill, I will sing to you
From this broken hill, all your praises they shall ring
If it be your will to let me sing"

My voice be still as it was before is in a way where we are, Leonard Cohen's voice is now still but in this song he already invited others to unfold his prayer for him, now is the time he was spoken for and that we pick up his prayer with our own true voice from our own broken place let us unfold the prayer...
"...If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well

And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night
If it be your will"

Songs set to photographs: a challenge

Continuing to put Malcolm Guite's beautiful songs on YouTube with photographs.
His songs are so full of images, it seems a real challenge.
But I do what I did with some of his poems before, I just listen to the feelings that those images summon up for me and then choose photographs in what I have. Sometimes I will take a picture specifically or make a composite picture but I try to not make it too busy so the beauty of the song remains central.

Redemption Song (A song for Ruth)

Sing a song of sowing
Carrying the seed
A song of hopeful planting
To meet a future need
Sing a song of letting go
And falling to the ground
Of burying that feels like loss
Still waiting to be found

There are no songs of famine
Hunger has no voice
The poor must scavenge what they can
While the rich are spoiled for choice
The stones of fear and anger
Will strike you from behind
Hunger hates the stranger
And cleaves to his own kind

Sing a song of exile
Loneliness and loss
A song of broken bridges
Nobody can cross
A song of desperation
For a word you can understand
A song of fearful labour
On someone else’s land

Then sing a song of marriage
The grace of bride and groom
The fruitful vine around the door
Joy within the room
A song of love and longing
For the children yet to be
A quiver-full of future hopes
Aimed at eternity

Sing a song of mourning
The shadows and the tombs
The bitterness of broken hearts
And disappointed wombs
Sing a song of empty words
And unexpressed despair
Of reaching out at midnight
For the one who isn’t there

Sing a song of waiting
Weeping on the earth
A song of expectation
Longing for new birth
Sing a song of patience
Of watching through the night
Sing those hours before the dawn
Then sing the coming light

Sing a song of harvest
Of one who bind the sheaves
And one who gleans along the edge
The good another leaves
Sing a song of winnowing
And taking into store
Of Barley heaped like glowing gold
All on the threshing floor

Sing out before the Lord of Life
Your songs of joy and pain
Sing of the years the locusts ate
That cannot come again
Sing to Him your hopes and fears
Your tales of right and wrong
And He will make your voice a part
Of His Redemption Song

©Malcolm Guite 2011
From the album "Dancing through the fire"
Cambridge Riffs Records
www.cambridgeriffs.co.uk/records

PHOTOGRAPHS
©Margot Krebs Neale
www.margot-krebs-neale.co.uk

A song and its music set to photographs

Ragged Light Of The Evening
Malcolm Guite

I could make a bonfire of our vanity
Wouldn’t smoke out your memory
Something’s alight at the heart of that fire
You walk towards me through the ghosts of desire.

Hidden hearts still call to each other
But when you fall there's no return
If I ever learn to call you my lover
I do believe my tongue would burn.

You changed like an angel on the edge of my sight
The gift of your love was just a trick of the light
I still feel your touch in the shimmering rain
I'd rather be buried than feel that again.

Yes I brought you everything I believed in
Only to find the god withdrawn
I let you love me in the ragged light of the evening
But I loved you in the whisky light of dawn.

We walked together to the very edge
We kicked aside the last minute bridge
For all the years we've both fallen through
I still tremble on that brink with you.

Hidden hearts still call out to each other
But when you fall there's no return
If I ever learn to call you my lover
I do believe my tongue would burn.

You can tone down the colours, you can fade it to grey
You can move to the border where time fades away
Bury the feelings, scrub out the stain
In the blink of an eye it’s vivid again.

I brought you everything I believed in
Only to find the god withdrawn
I let you love me in the ragged light of the evening
And leave me in the whisky light of dawn.

From the album "The Green Man and other songs"
Copyright © Malcolm Guite 2007
Cambridge Riffs Records
www.cambridgeriffs.co.uk/records

Numbers, a song by Malcolm Guite

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From the album Dancing through the fire
Cambridge Riffs Records
www.cambridgeriffs.co.uk/records

Lyrics:
Numbers ©Malcolm Guite 2011

It took two loving bodies,
Bringing comfort through the night,
And two hearts beating faster
To bring Billy to the light,
Around a thousand kisses
Saw that baby on the way,
But it only took one finger
To blow it all away

It took a mother’s labour pains
It took a skillful midwife too,
Two grandmas knitting double-time
Those suits of baby blue,
It took years of love to raise him right
With room to grow and play
But it only took one second
To blow it all away

Chorus:
We cannot count the multitude
Who made us what we are
The many friends who formed us
And who carried us this far;
A hundred acts of kindness
That no one can repay
One finger, and one trigger
Can blow it all away

It took that teenage boy a while
To find his own two feet
So he took his best friend with him
On that sixteenth birthday treat
And the two boys took a shortcut
Down a darkened alleyway
And they walked into the crossfire
That took Billy’s life away

I don’t know how the gunman
Tells the story of that day
He was ‘taking care of business’
When some kid got in the way
We make it hard to grow up right
And hard to make things pay
But we sure make it easy
To blow everything away

It took forty-seven minutes
For the funeral to pass
Though it felt like we were crawling
Over miles of broken glass
And I saw it all in front of me
When I closed my eyes to pray:
The finger, and the trigger
And the life they took away

Malcolm Guite Vocals.Guitar.

Papa

Aujourd’hui, c’est le quatre-vingt quinzième anniversaire de la naissance de mon père, Pierre Krebs. Quand le 8 mai est un dimanche, c’est la Sainte Jeanne d’Arc et le 8 mai 1921 était un dimanche, comme aujourd’hui. Mon père était content d’être née le jour qui commémorait Jeanne d’Arc.

Le jour de son 24eme anniversaire l’armistice en Europe était signée, il était un très jeune officier de la Légion d’Honneur.

A la fin de sa vie, il n’aimait plus beaucoup les anniversaires, mais aujourd’hui on aurait pu lui faire plaisir en lui rappelant que c’était encore une fois la Sainte Jeanne d’Arc.

A mon père…

2016 M Krebs 019

mon père Pierre et sa sœur Elisabeth

Papa-1932

Mon père dessiné par sa sœur Françoise

Do you know where you are going to?

“Theme From Mahogany (Do You Know Where You’re Going To)”

Link to the song at the end of the text

Do you know where you're going to
Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know

Do you get
What you're hoping for
When you look behind you
There's no open doors
What are you hoping for
Do you know

Once we were standing still in time
Chasing the fantasies
That filled our minds
You knew how I loved you
But my spirit was free
Laughin' at the questions
That you once asked of me

Do you know where you're going to
Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know

Now looking back at all we've planned
We let so many dreams
Just slip through our hands
Why must we wait so long
Before we'll see
How sad the answers
To those questions can be

Do you know where you're going to
Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know

Do you get
What you're hoping for
When you look behind you
There's no open doors
What are you hoping for
Do you know

Elle court, elle court…

LA MALADIE D’AMOUR – MICHEL SARDOU

Elle court, elle court, la maladie d'amour,
Dans le cœur des enfants de 7 à 77 ans.
Elle chante, elle chante, la rivière insolente
Qui unit dans son lit
Les cheveux blonds, les cheveux gris.

Elle fait chanter les hommes et s'agrandir le monde.
Elle fait parfois souffrir tout le long d'une vie.
Elle fait pleurer les femmes, elle fait crier dans l'ombre
Mais le plus douloureux, c'est quand on en guérit.

Elle court, elle court, la maladie d'amour,
Dans le cœur des enfants de 7 à 77 ans.
Elle chante, elle chante, la rivière insolente
Qui unit dans son lit
Les cheveux blonds, les cheveux gris.

Elle surprend l'écolière sur le banc d'une classe
Par le charme innocent d'un professeur d'anglais.
Elle foudroie dans la rue cet inconnu qui passe
Et qui n'oubliera plus ce parfum qui volait.

Elle court, elle court, la maladie d'amour,
Dans le cœur des enfants de 7 à 77 ans.
Elle chante, elle chante, la rivière insolente
Qui unit dans son lit
Les cheveux blonds, les cheveux gris.