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January 6, 2025 6:32 pm
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WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY – Georges Brassens: Les amoureux des bancs publics

Les gens qui voient de travers, pensent que les bancs verts qu’on voit sur les trottoirs, sont faits pour les impotents ou les ventripotents, mais c’est une absurdité. Car à la vérité, ils sont là c’est notoire, pour accueillir quelque temps les amours débutants. Les amoureux qui s’bécott’nt sur les bancs publics, en s’fouttant pas mal du regard oblique des …

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WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY – Jacques Brel: Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas. Il faut oublier, tout peut s’oublier qui s’enfuit déjà. Oublier le temps des malentendus, et le temps perdu. A savoir comment, oublier ces heures qui tuaient parfois. A coups de pourquoi, le cœur du bonheur. Ne me quitte pas. Moi je t’offrirai des perles de pluie, venues de pays ou il ne pleut pas. Je creuserai …

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UNITED COLORS OF THE NIGHT: Falling petals, light food for poppies

DROPS OF DARKNESS – Akiko Yosano: From cherry blossoms fall. So, in the gray dawn, stars detach from the sky. EMBRACING EACH OTHER AT NIGHT – M. de Unamuno: Open your arms to the night, which is black, and very beautiful. The sun of life has it looked, with its eyes of fire. The sun made the black night, and …

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LANGUAGES – Poetry by Bei Dao

LANGUAGES Many languages are spoken, now, in this world. Soaring words, meet, meet, collide, they create sparks, sometimes hate, sometimes love. Higher the rise of rationality, but without sinking voice, with thoughts fragile and lightweight, bamboo tablets. A woven basket filled with blind poisonous mushrooms, those beasts painted on the rock we trample flowers galoppandoci above, but a head secret …

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WHEN MUSIC BECOMES POETRY: Pain in my heart, by Otis Redding

PAIN IN MY HEART Pain in my heart, she’s treating me cold, where can my baby be Lord no one knows. Pain in my heart just won’t let me sleep, where can my baby be, Lord where can she be. Another day, as again it is though, I want you to come back, come back, come back, baby, ’till I …

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