1. |
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Snow is falling everywhere
Snow is falling all the time
Between a milk-bottle and a beer-can
Between Empire State Building and Trafalgar Square
Snow is falling everywhere
Snow is falling all the time
Snow is falling everywhere
Snow is falling all the time
Only the words break the silence, all other sounds have ceased.
If I were silent I’d hear nothing.But I were silent the other sounds would start again, those to which the words have made me deaf,
or which have really ceased. But I am silent, it sometimes happens, no, never, not one second.
I weep too without interruption.
It’s an unbroken flow of words and tears
With no pause for reflection.
But I speak softer.
Snow is falling all the time
Snow is falling everywhere
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2. |
Passengers
03:33
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Ever since childhood, when I lived within earshot of the Boston and Maine, I have seldom heard a train go by and not wished I was on it.
Those whistles sing bewitchment: railways are irresistible bazaars, snaking along perfectly level no matter what the landscape, improving the mood with speed, and never upsetting your drink.
If a train is large and comfortable you don't even need a destination, but I had chosen Asia.
Anything is possible on a train: a great meal, a binge, a visit from cardplayers, an intrigue, a good night's sleep, and strangers' monologues framed like Russian short stories.
It was my intention to board every train that chugged into view from Victoria Station in London to Tokyo Central;
to take the branch line to Simla, the spur through the Khyber Pass, and the chord line that links Indian railways with those in Ceylon;
the Mandalay Express, the Malaysian Golden Arrow, the locals in Vietnam, and the trains had bewitching names, the Orient Express, the North Star, the Trans-Siberian.
I sought trains; I found passengers.
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3. |
The leaden echo
03:17
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How to kéep—is there ány any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, láce, latch or catch or key to keep
Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, … from vanishing away?
Ó is there no frowning of these wrinkles, rankéd wrinkles deep,
Dówn? no waving off of these most mournful messengers, still messengers, sad and stealing messengers of grey?
No there ’s none, there ’s none, O no there ’s none,
Nor can you long be, what you now are, called fair,
Do what you may do, what, do what you may,
And wisdom is early to despair:
Be beginning; since, no, nothing can be done
To keep at bay
Age and age’s evils, hoar hair,
Ruck and wrinkle, drooping, dying, death’s worst, winding sheets, tombs and worms and tumbling to decay;
So be beginning, be beginning to despair.
O there ’s none; no no no there ’s none:
Be beginning to despair, to despair,
Despair, despair, despair, despair
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4. |
Mondo sparito
04:28
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Non ci sono uccelli nel cielo, ne serpenti nella polvere, ne vento a far volare arbusti, ne orrizzonte, niente. È mondo sparito.
Lo sceriffo Wister mormora piano: vai all’inferno ragazzo. Vai all’ inferno. Si alza, getta un’ ultimo sguardo verso Dark. Poi si volta, si volta e camminando con fatica....
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5. |
La beauté
03:10
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Je suis belle, ô mortels! comme un rêve de pierre,
Et mon sein, où chacun s'est meurtri tour à tour,
Est fait pour inspirer au poète un amour
Eternel et muet ainsi que la matière.
Je trône dans l'azur comme un sphinx incompris;
J'unis un coeur de neige à la blancheur des cygnes;
Je hais le mouvement qui déplace les lignes,
Et jamais je ne pleure et jamais je ne ris.
Les poètes, devant mes grandes attitudes,
Que j'ai l'air d'emprunter aux plus fiers monuments,
Consumeront leurs jours en d'austères études;
Car j'ai, pour fasciner ces dociles amants,
De purs miroirs qui font toutes choses plus belles:
Mes yeux, mes larges yeux aux clartés éternelles!
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6. |
Absolutely grey
03:18
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If there’s an absolute white
And there is,
And if there’s an absolute black
And there is,
Then follows that there must be an absolute grey.
Absolute grey is the perfect grey
There’s the same distance from
Absolute white as it is from absolute black
Not whitegrey or blackgrey
But absolutely perfect grey
White, Black, Grey
White, Black, Grey
White, Black, Grey.
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7. |
Invergence of the twain
02:23
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In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she
Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.
Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls--grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.
Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind
Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: "What does this vaingloriousness down here?". . .
Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything
Prepared a sinister mate
For her--so gaily great--
And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.
Alien they seemed to be:
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history.
And each one hears,
And consummation comes,
And jars the two hemispheres
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8. |
Boy with a cart
03:00
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He stretched his hand upon it.
At his touch
It lifted to its place.
There was no sound
I cried out, and I cried at last
“Who are you?”
I heard him say
“I was a carpenter....”
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9. |
Everness
02:31
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Sólo una cosa no hay.Es el olvido.
Dios, que salva el metal, salva la escoria
Y cifra en Su profética memoria
Las lunas que serán y las que han sido,
Ya todo está. Los miles de reflejos
Que entre los dos crepúsculos del día
Tu rostro fue dejando en los espejos
Y los que irá dejando todavía
Y todo es una parta del diverso
Cristal de esa memoria, el universo;
Sólo del otro lado del ocaso
Verás los Arquetipos y Esplendores.
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10. |
Gaan
04:50
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Ik zal gaan
O met genoegen zal ik gaan
Met diepe vreugde en trompetgeschal
Ik zal gaan
Als jij roept zal ik gaan
Mijn werk, mijn eten en mijn handen zal ik laten staan
Als jij roept zal ik gaan
Als jij roept in de morgen, in de middag, in de avond
In mijn dromen, in mijn waken
Als jij roept zal ik gaan
Ik zal gaan
Al breken ze mijn benen
Al moet ik kreupel gaan
Engelen binden dan mijn wagen vleugels aan
Ik zal gaan
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11. |
Disconnected
03:16
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I am victim of telephones
When I lay down to sleep dream the Wishing Well
it rings
"Have you a new play for the brokendown theater?"
When I write in my notebook poem it rings
"Buster Keaton is under the brooklyn bridge on
Frankfurt and Pearl . . ."
When I unsheath my skin extend my cock toward
someone's thighs fat or thin, boy or girl
Tingaling—"Please get him out of jail . . . the police are
crashing down"
When I lift the soupspoon to my lips, the phone on the
floor begins purring
When I muse at smoke crawling over the roof outside
my street wisdom
purifying Eternity with my eye observation of grey
vaporous columns in the sky
ring ring "Hello this is Esquire”
When I lift the soupspoon to my lips, the phone on the
floor begins purring
"Hello it's me—I'm in the park two broads from Iowa . . .
nowhere to sleep last night . . . hit 'em in the mouth"
ringing at dawn ringing all afternoon ringing up
midnight ringing now forever ringing now forever ringing now forever ringing now forever.
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12. |
La pauvré prostitue
01:42
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L’amour de Kate aurait été pour Vincent la fin d’un exil
Qui durait depuis l’enfance
C’était la réconciliation avec les paisibles paysages de la Hollande
C’était l’entrée tardive dans un royaume masculin interdit
Mais, c’était aussi la réconciliation avec lui-même
Car dès l’enfance il avait peur de lui
Dès l’enfance il redoutait le gouffres ou la provocation des autres
Et au moment où il rencontre Christiane, celle qu’il appellera sienne
Les images de cet amour apparamment maudit pour Kate
Ne cessent de se mêler à celles de cet attachement rédempteur pour la pauvre prostituée.
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13. |
O enterrado vivo
03:11
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É sempre no passado aquele orgasmo
É sempre no presente aquele duplo
É sempre no futuro aquele pânico
É sempre no meu peito aquela garra
É sempre no meu tédio aquele aceno
É sempre no meu sono aquela guerra
É sempre no meu trato o amplo distrat
Sempre na minha firma a antiga fúria
Sempre no mesmo engano outro retrato
É sempre nos meus pulos o limite
É sempre nos meus lábios a estampilha
É sempre no meu não aquele trauma
Sempre no meu amor a noite rompe
Sempre dentro de mim meu inimigo
É sempre no meu sempre a mesma ausência
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14. |
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Soms bidden om een kwieke dood
Want wat waarde heeft moet schooien
Terwijl onbenul wordt aangepookt
Kan waarheid bij ons niet rooien
De raketten van een schandelijke legering
Worden gecelebreerd
De wetten van een ontrouwe regering
Worden gecostumeerd
Het goede is doodmoe
Het kwaad is commandant
Adieu, moeras van mijn land
Ik wil zinken als een steen
Waarom ik het niet doe
Ik laat haar, nog niet alleen
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15. |
Balcon de France
03:07
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Balcon, balcon de France
Nous regardions les sebres étrangers
Et paraissant trop bleu dans le lointain
Un lac brillait, du Sebre et du Sorssal
Nous goûtions mieux d’une patrie plus vide
Il n’y a pas un seul palmier, disais-je
Des chants d’oiseaux ne nous réveillent plus
Avec les eaux boueuses, les marides.
Ah notre fleuve sans mesure et brun
À l’absence fidèle, quoiqu’ingrate
Rentré chez moi je me sens étrangère
Me manque le balcon (bis)
Mort le palmier
Mes sebres manquent à ma boueuse porte
Ah, le lac était bleu
Et que des roses
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16. |
Soweto sonata
05:19
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Fümms bö wö tää zää Uu, pögiff, kwii Ee. Ooooooooooooooooo, dll rrrrrr beeeeee bö,dll rrrrrr beeeeee bö fümms bö, beeeeee bö fümms bö wö, bö fümms bö wö tää, fümms bö wö tää zää Uu: Fümms bö wö tää zää Uu, pögiff, kwii Ee. Dedesnn nn rrrrrr, li Ee, mpiff tillff too,tillll, Jüü Kaa? Tinnzekete bee bee nnz krr müü? Ziiuu ennze, ziiuu rinnzkrrmüü,rakete bee bee. Rrummpff tillff tooooo? Ziiuu ennze ziiuu nnzkrrmüü, Ziiuu ennze ziiuu rinnzkrrmüü rekete bee bee? Rakete bee zee. Fümms bö wö tää zää Uu, Uu zee tee wee bee fümms. Rakete rinnzekete rakate rinnzekete rakete rinnzekete rakete rinnzekete rakete rinnzekete rakete rinnzekete Beeee bö.
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17. |
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Snow is falling everywhere
Snow is falling all the time
Between a milkbottle and a beer-can
Between Empire State Building and Trafalgar Square
Snow is falling everywhere
Snow is falling all the time
Snow is falling everywhere
Snow is falling all the time
Only the words break the silence, all other sounds have ceased.
If I were silent I’d hear nothing.But I were silent the other sounds would start again, those to which the words have made me deaf,
or which have really ceased. But I am silent, it sometimes happens, no, never, not one second.
I weep too without interruption.
It’s an unbroken flow of words and tears
With no pause for reflection.
But I speak softer,
Snow is falling all the time
Snow is falling everywhere
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Stephen Emmer Amsterdam, The Netherlands
About Maison Melody
"In these historical and difficult times in the year 2020 this is music meant to
sooth the pain of social distancing for the isolated listener, made by a composer in self quarantaine."
Stephen Emmer
15 May 2020
... more
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