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Milyen Klippek Legyenek Még Az Oldalon?
KONCERT MENÜ
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Darkness
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VK-s Családfa
Mayfair Családfa
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Dark & Goth Képek
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Zenekaros Animációk
A Rock Horror-kabinetje, Avagy a Goth Zene
A Gothic/Dark Szubkultúra Kialakulása
Anne Rice: Vámpírkrónikák
Anne Rice: Új Vámpírtörténetek
Anne Rice: A Mayfair Boszorkányok Élete
Anne Rice Könyveiben Szereplő Karakterek
Anne Rice: ...Egyéb...
Laurell K. Hamilton: Anita Blake
Egyéb Könyvek
Farkasemberek
Linkek
G-portalos Linkek
Saját Linkek
Zenekaros Linkek
(1996)
1. Better UnbornBetter it would be for meAnd better it would have beenHad I not been born, not grownNot been brought into the worldNot had to come to this earthNot been suckled for the worldIf I'd died a three-night-oldBeen lost in my swaddling handI'd have needed but a span of dothA span more of wood,But a cubit of goof earthTwo words from the priestThree verses from the cantorOne clang from the bell2. Against WidowsThe Devils weds a widowDeath another's leftoversBetter to lie on a willowsRest on alder boughsThen upon a widow's bedOn a used woman's pillowSweeter the side of a fenceThen a widow's flankSofter the side of a groveThan a widow's beside isThe Devil weds a widowThe grave one twice wedA widow's hand is rougherThan a dry spruce boughWith which she strikes the playfulGrabs the one who laughsA widow has had her gamesAnd spent a merry evening3. The OrphanThe calloo's spirits are lowSwimming on the chill waterBut the orphan's are lowerWalking down the village street.The sparrow's belly is chillSitting on the icy boughBut my belly is more chillAs I step from glade to glade.The dove's heart is coldAs it pecks the village rickBut I'm colder stillAs I drink the icy water.4. On Rich and PoorOld folk rememberAnd those today learnHow before their timeLife was different here:Without the sun people livedGroped about without the moonWith candles sowing was donePlanting performed with torched.At the time we livedWithout the sunshineWho had covered up our sunAnd who had hidden our moon?Without the moonlight stumbledWith our fists fumbled the landWith our hands we sought out roadsWith hands roads, with fingers swampsWe could not live without the sunNor manage without moonlightWe could seek out the sunWho spy out the moon?Who else if not GodThe one son of God?5. My KanteleTruly they lie, they talk utter nonsenseWho say that music reckon that the kanteleWas fashioned by a godOut of a great pike's shouldersFrom a water-dog's hooked bones:It was made from the griefMoulded from sorrowIts belly out of hard daysIts soundboard from endless woesIts strings gathered from tormentsAnd its pegs from other illsSo it will not play, will not rejoice at allMusic will not play to pleaseGive off the right sort of joyFor it was fashioned from caresMoulded from sorrow.6. CaresMany rocks the rapid hasA lot of billows the seaMore plentiful are my caresThen cones on a spruceBeard moss on a juniperGnarls upon a pine barkKnobs upon a firHusks on a grass-topBoughs on a bad tree.Drag my cares awayCarry off my griefsFor no horse can drawNo iron-shod jerkWithout the shaft-bow shaking offThe cares of this skinny oneThe sorrows of this black bird7. Song of the Troubled OneWhat the thrush toils atThe partridge asks forThe hapless one takesThe troubled one stealsPuts upon a spadeSets on a runnerHides under a doorShields with a bath-whiskThe farmer hammersAnd tempers his spearsMarries off his sonsHands out his daughtersIn boots clogged with ckayIn fancy mittensThe sea-swell rumblesAnd the winds it blowsAnd the king hears itFrom five miles awayFrom six directionsFrom seven back woodsFrom eight heaths away.8. Weeper on the ShoreIn the vale where I once listened out for the lightWhere the little birds warbleThe ptarmigans babbleAnd my heart looked for some rest from its troubleI cast my eyes downward upon the seasideAnd a fair young girl on the shore I espiedWho was sitting and weepingTo see the waves leapingAnd over the skyline sad vigil was keeping.O why are you weeping alone on the shore?Now still from your eyes I can see the tears pour.What sorrow and smartSo pierces your heartThat even at midnight it will not depart?9. ElegyLong evenings full on longingLow-spirited my morningsFull of longing too my nightsAnd all times the bitterest.'Tis my lovely I long forIt is my darling I missMy black-browed one I grieve for.There's no hearing my treasureNo seeing my marten-breatNo hearing her in the laneDriving below the windowChopping the wood by the stackClinking outside the cook-house:In the eart my berry liesIn the soil she's moulderingUnder the sand my sweet oneBeneath the grass my treasureThe one I grieve for.10. Relief11. My Kantele (acoustic reprise)
Mivel itt betelt a tárhely a képeket mostantól erre az oldalra rakom!:
2007. 02. 26.