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MUSIC

THE SHADOW OF LIGHT: By Franco Battiato

THE SHADOW OF LIGHT “Defend me from opposing forces, the night, in my sleep, when I am not conscious, when my path is uncertain, And not leave me ever … Do not leave me ever! Carry me higher areas in one of your realms of tranquility: It’s time to leave this cycle of lifetimes. And not leave me ever,. Do ...

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SONG OF LOST LOVE: By Fabrizio de Andrè

SONG OF LOST LOVE “Remember blooming violets, with our words” there will never, ever, ever “. I would tell you the same things now, but how soon, fans love to dry the roses. So for us, the love that rips the hair is lost now, all that remains is some listless caress and tenderness. And when you are in your ...

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THE GARDENS IN MARCH, BY LUCIO BATTISTI: Rivers blue, hills and grasslands, where they run sweet melancholy

………………… “What year is it, that day is this is the time to live with you My hands tremble as you see no more and I have the soul in the depths immense skies, and immense love and then still love still love for you blue rivers and hills and grasslands where they run my sweet melancholy the universe is ...

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HARDLY ANYTHING, BY FRANCIS CABREL: When poetry feel into musical notes

“So here is all I am good at some wind blowing through bamboo chests, pieces of sky to be put on your eyelids and some more hung to your neck. It’s nothing but usual sky, some blue you can see everywhere, still I have put all my craft into it, on top of our whole story. You see, it’s hardly ...

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JE L’AIME A MOURIR, BY FRANCIS CABREL: When poetry feel into musical notes

“Moi je n’étais rien, mais voilà qu’aujourd’hui. Je suis le gardien du sommeil de ses nuits. Je l’aime à mourir. Vous pouvez détruire tout ce qu’il vous plaira, elle n’aura qu’à ouvrir l’espace de ses bras pour tout reconstruire, pour tout reconstruire. Je l’aime à mourir. Elle a gommé les chiffres des horloges du quartier. Elle a fait de ma ...

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I SING I SWIM, BY SEABEAR: When poetry feel into musical notes

“When the birds are sleeping, that’s when the trees sing, you left your winter clothes, and your teeth marks in my skin. So shake the leaves off the trees, watch them float down the stream. Your son, your daughter swimming in the water, and I miss you, even when you’re around, I’m a black cloud, sending lightning to the ground. ...

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BILLIARDS PLAYER: A game from the complex variants, like your life

An ancient game, with its strict discipline, the game of billiards. Four sides and a soft rectangular field, softly green. Inside it run colored marbles, those that the player hits with an auction – the stick – or throwing with his hands, trying to understand the point to hit. Tic-tac, above the color of grass, the imagination of the possible ...

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LES AMOREUX DES BANCS PUBLIC: By Georges Brassens

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