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smokingbootNothing clever about this, it is merely gentle and beautiful on a day I feel sad. I got it from a community I joined, ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
strange_tears and add it here with thanks, so that I may always have a record of it. It's a combination of Debussy (a favourite composer of mine) and the words of a poet I have never heard of before, Piere Louys, so obviously if your workplace frowns on you not dedicating every thought, word and engine search to them, be careful. The poetry is spoken in French so I add the translation below.
http://home.ripway.com/2004-3/81451/ChantPastoral.mp3
It is time to sing a pastoral song, to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind.
I tend my flock and Selene hers, in the round shadow of a quivering olive tree.
Selene is lying in the meadow.
She gets up and runs away to look for cicadas or pick flowers,
or wash her face in the cool stream water.
From the sheeps' white backs I pull wool with which to grace my distaff, then I spin.
Time lingers.
And an eagle flies by.
The shade shifts; let's move the basket of flowers and the jug of milk.
It is time to sing a pastoral song, to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind.
To add to the summer theme, Ralik has just eaten a bee.
strange_tears and add it here with thanks, so that I may always have a record of it. It's a combination of Debussy (a favourite composer of mine) and the words of a poet I have never heard of before, Piere Louys, so obviously if your workplace frowns on you not dedicating every thought, word and engine search to them, be careful. The poetry is spoken in French so I add the translation below. http://home.ripway.com/2004-3/81451/ChantPastoral.mp3
It is time to sing a pastoral song, to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind.
I tend my flock and Selene hers, in the round shadow of a quivering olive tree.
Selene is lying in the meadow.
She gets up and runs away to look for cicadas or pick flowers,
or wash her face in the cool stream water.
From the sheeps' white backs I pull wool with which to grace my distaff, then I spin.
Time lingers.
And an eagle flies by.
The shade shifts; let's move the basket of flowers and the jug of milk.
It is time to sing a pastoral song, to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind.
To add to the summer theme, Ralik has just eaten a bee.
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re:cheering
Date: 2005-07-29 05:58 pm (UTC)I read back through your travel journal (& a happy belated bon anniversaire to you) -- I have to say you did everything just right. Next time stop at Baudelaire's grave in Cimetiere Montparnasse & follow up with a walk through the Catacombs. Inexpensive, & it does wonders for the soul. Thank the Goddess we're still wearing our flesh. By the way, I caught a reference to your being pagan & to having cats. My Charlie would love to get a bee, but we keep him inside. Blessed be. I'll let you get back to your dreams & nightmares.
Too much cafe life?
Date: 2005-07-31 11:54 pm (UTC)Baudelaire and the Catacombs sounds like an extraordinary combination. It will go on my itinery for my next trip back, a desperate dream as this last visit left us somewhat broke!
Say Hi to Charlie from me. How old is he?
Re: Too much cafe life?
Date: 2005-08-01 03:52 am (UTC)Re: Too much cafe life?
Date: 2005-08-01 09:28 am (UTC)