Third Installment in the “Murmure dans le vent” series. This poem shall expose the second movement in Tchaikovsky’s “Serenade for Strings” in C Major. For previous posts in this series you can go here part une & deux
Month: July 2013
Broken Time
Tick, Tock
goes the clock
every second spent with you
Tick, Tock
goes the clock
another day without you
Tick, Tock
tears come down
another week without you
Tick, Tock
goes the clock
got kicked out
wandering without you
Tick, Tock
goes the clock
wish I were beside you
Tick, Tock
goes the clock
shriveled in the snow
Tick, Tock
goes the clock
the meds are here beside me
Tick, Tock
goes the clock
alone… I’m still beside you
A speechless chorister
Just press play.
25 Wise, Philosophical Quotes From Disney Movies
Very true
Layers of sound & harmony
What happens when you start losing your faith? What happens when your hope is fleeting? Sure. Some good things happen. But in comparison to the “bad” the “good”? Let’s just say that it looks pretty insignificant. Then you find this piece. For me it’s not about the lyrics. Ok. It’s not just about the lyrics. The layers of sound. The harmonies. The constant movement between the voices. The intent. The motif. The way the melody fugues from voice to voice. Section to section. The way the Soprano hits one or two high notes… the notes the bass sing which are low, but they give a richness & depth towards the piece?
The intention of the words? What the words truely want to evoke, the music conveys. The only “flaw” this audio has is the “t” is too marcatto. Other than that? This piece is perfect. You are immersed in layers upon layers of sound & harmony.
Text:
Nada Te Turbe
by Santa Teresa de Ávila
Music by:Jake Runestad
Nada te turbe;
nada te espante;
todo se pasa;
Dios no se muda,
la paciencia
todo lo alcanza.
Quien a Dios tiene
nada le falta.
Solo Dios basta.
[Let nothing disturb you;
let nothing frighten you;
everything passes;
God never changes,
patience
obtains all things.
Whoever has God,
lacks nothing.
Not your pair
These hands are not yours…
the way they caress
how they hold me
how they brush my tears away
This malaise grasp
grazes my core
shunning my depths
blinding my light
I miss your presence
the sturdy hands
against my crumbling soul
holding and reassembling my pieces
These hands are not yours…
who bears me is my own
how softly did I know
Who kisses me? it’s your soul
Faithfully unfaithful
This is the second post in the “Murmure dans le vent” series. This post will be showcasing the third movement in Tchaikovsky’s “Serenade for strings” in C Major. I know I sort of cheated (jumping the second movement), BUT you know how the muse is… she eluded the second movement & something just clicked with the third one. Fret not, my dear reader! The second movement will come soon.
Work in progress….
Your eyes
(the) pool of your soul
mesmerize my own
under your silent shine
(my) crystal candle-light
The art of musical poetry 