relax

Author Topic: a million  (Read 2397 times)

Offline TRX

  • Governor
  • ***********
  • Posts: 3837
  • Gender: Male
  • It only makes me laugh
    • http://www.lp.org
a million
« on: September 10, 2006, 04:56:05 PM »
http://www.buildthememorial.org/site/PageServer?pagename=about_mission

***
for what seems decades now, there is a vague recollection of lyrics that come to mind at least once a year and it seems to me surprisingly comforting each time.
Dont remember the band or the title but something like


a million hearts
a million minds
lived and died
for forty years

pray for yourselves
and for your memories

and be thankful
we've had
forty years

Life, Liberty, Happiness (pursuit of) and pasta

duluoz_cats

  • Guest
wtc Re: a million
« Reply #1 on: September 10, 2006, 07:24:40 PM »
This has become a peaceful favorite of mine:

watching the changes

“But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space.”
- John Donne

Offline TRX

  • Governor
  • ***********
  • Posts: 3837
  • Gender: Male
  • It only makes me laugh
    • http://www.lp.org
waiting for the dawn Re: a million
« Reply #2 on: September 10, 2006, 10:23:46 PM »

“Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?

Take this city
A city should be shining on a hill
Take this city
If it be your will
What no man can own, no man can take
Take this heart
Take this heart
Take this heart
And make it break”

“Take these hands
Teach them what to carry
Take these hands
Don't make a fist no
Take this mouth
So quick to criticise
Take this mouth
Give it a kiss

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Still waiting for the dawn, the sun is coming up
The sun is coming up on the ocean
This love is like a drop in the ocean
This love is like a drop in the ocean”

“Take these shoes
Click clacking down some dead end street
Take these shoes
And make them fit
Take this shirt
Polyester white trash made in nowhere
Take this shirt
And make it clean, clean
Take this soul
Stranded in some skin and bones
Take this soul
And make it sing

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn”
Life, Liberty, Happiness (pursuit of) and pasta

duluoz_cats

  • Guest
kaddish, part 1 (in part) Re: a million
« Reply #3 on: September 11, 2006, 07:54:02 AM »
"Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on
   the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking,
   talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues
   shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm--and your memory in my head three years after--
   And read Adonais' last triumphant stanzas aloud--wept, realizing
   how we suffer--
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
   prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An-
   swers--and my own imagination of a withered leaf--at dawn--
Dreaming back thru life, Your time--and mine accelerating toward Apoca-
   lypse,
the final moment--the flower burning in the Day--and what comes after,
looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city
a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom
   Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed--
like a poem in the dark--escaped back to Oblivion--
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream,
   trapped in its disappearance,
sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
   ping each other,
worshipping the God included in it all--longing or inevitability?--while it
   lasts, a Vision--anything more? ..."


- Allen Ginsberg

Telesphoros

  • Guest
In keeping with the spirit ...
« Reply #4 on: September 11, 2006, 10:31:35 AM »
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness--to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

--
Keats

abichuela

  • Guest
Re: a million
« Reply #5 on: September 16, 2006, 02:00:45 AM »
I may be a few days behind, but I just saw this thread. In the days after 9/11, this song really spoke to me and I felt the urge to play it over and over on the guitar, for some sort of cathartic healing. The English translation is my own, so forgive any imperfections. And of course, simply reading it does not do justice to the music.

Al Alba
Luis Eduardo Aute (Spanish singer/songwriter)

Si te dijera, amor mío,
que temo a la madrugada,
no sé qué estrellas son éstas
que hieren como amenazas
ni sé qué sangra la luna
al filo de su guadaña.

Presiento que tras la noche
vendrá la noche más larga,
quiero que no me abandones,
amor mío, al alba,
al alba, al alba.

Los hijos que no tuvimos
se esconden en las cloacas,
comen las últimas flores,
parece que adivinaran
que el día que se avecina
viene con hambre atrasada.

Miles de buitres callados
van extendiendo sus alas,
no te destroza, amor mío,
esta silenciosa danza,
maldito baile de muertos,
pólvora de la mañana.

---------------------

If I told you, my love,
That I fear the daybreak,
I do not know what stars are these
That strike like threats,
Nor do I know that the moon bleeds
On the edge of its scythe.

I feel that, after this night
Will come the longest of nights.
I want you not to abandon me,
My love, at dawn,
At dawn, at dawn.

The children we did not have
Hide themselves in the sewers.
They eat the last flowers.
It seems that they could guess
That the day that approaches
Comes with a delayed hunger.

I feel that, after this night
Will come the longest of nights.
I want you not to abandon me,
My love, at dawn,
At dawn, at dawn.

Thousands of silent vultures
Are extending their wings.
It does not destroy you, my love,
This soundless dance,
Cursed ballet of the dead,
Dust of the morning.

I feel that, after this night
Will come the longest of nights.
I want you not to abandon me,
My love, at dawn,
At dawn, at dawn.

Lost Moon

  • Guest
Re: a million
« Reply #6 on: September 16, 2006, 12:21:29 PM »
That is a beautiful poem, Abichuela. Thanks for sharing.


 

Visit our sister site Jackson Heights Life