Declaración de intenciones

Este blog intenta tener cubiertos al menos dos sentidos del hipotético visitante: la vista y el oído. La vista resulta evidente y el oído se consigue haciendo clic en el título de cada entrada.
Espero que lo disfrutéis.

jueves, 28 de diciembre de 2006

Mon enfant


Dodo, l'enfant do,
L'enfant dormira bien vite
Dodo, l'enfant do,
L'enfant dormira bientôt
Música © George Winston

viernes, 22 de diciembre de 2006

The long road


We're all pilgrims on the same journey - but some pilgrims have better road maps.
Nelson DeMille
Música © Mark Knopfler

jueves, 21 de diciembre de 2006

Seven drunken nights


As I came home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
So I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, many is a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a sow with a saddle on sure I never seen before

Now as I came home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
So I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely blanket that me mother sent to me
Well, many is a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never seen before

And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe upon the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called the wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe upon the chair where my old pipe should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never seen before

And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my two boots should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns those boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in Geranium pots I never seen before

And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
Still you can not see
That's a baby boy that my mother send to me
Hey, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with wiskers on I've never seen before

© Flogging Molly

miércoles, 20 de diciembre de 2006

Whiskey in the jar


As I was going over the far famed Kerry Mountains
I met with Captain Farrell and his money he was counting.
I first produced my pistol, and then produced my rapier.
Said stand and deliver, for I am a bold deceiver,

Musha ring dumma do damma da
Whack for the daddy 'ol
Whack for the daddy 'ol
There’s whiskey in the jar

I counted out his money, and it made a pretty penny.
I put it in my pocket and I took it home to Jenny.
She said and she swore, that she never would deceive me,
But the devil take the women, for they never can be easy

I went into my chamber, all for to take a slumber,
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder.
But Jenny took my charges and she filled them up with water,
Then sent for captain Farrel to be ready for the slaughter.

It was early in the morning, as I rose up for travel,
The guards were all around me and likewise captain Farrel.
I first produced my pistol, for she stole away my rapier,
But I couldn't shoot the water so a prisoner I was taken.

If anyone can aid me, it's my brother in the army,
If I can find his station down in Cork or in Killarney.
And if he'll come and save me, we'll go roving near Kilkenny,
And I swear he'll treat me better than me darling sportling Jenny

Now some men take delight in the drinking and the roving,
But others take delight in the gambling and the smoking.
But I take delight in the juice of the barley,
And courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early

Words and music © Traditional
Performed by The Pogues & The Dubliners

martes, 19 de diciembre de 2006

Mae preta


Pele encarquilhada carapinha branca
Gandôla de renda caindo na anca
Embalando o berço do filho do sinhô
Que há pouco tempo a sinhá ganhou

Era assim que mãe preta fazia
criava todo o branco com muita alegria
Porém lá na sanzala o seu pretinho apanhava
Mãe preta mais uma lágrima enxugava

Mãe preta, mãe preta
Enquanto a chibata batia no seu amor
Mãe preta embalava o filho branco do sinhô

© Dulce Pontes

lunes, 18 de diciembre de 2006

Slow like honey


You moved like honey in my dream last night
Yeah, some old fires were burning
You came near to me and you endeared to me
But you couldn't quite discern me

Does that scare you ? I'll let you run away
But your heart will not oblige you
You'll remember me like a melody
Yeah, I'll haunt the world inside you
And my big secret, gonna win you over
Slow like honey, heavy with mood

I'll let you see me, I'll covet your regard
I'll invade your demeanor
And you'll yield to me like a scent in the breeze
And you'll wonder what it is about me
It's my big secret, keeping you coming
Slow like honey, heavy with mood

Though dreams can be deceiving
Like faces are to hearts
They serve for sweet relieving
When fantasy and reality lie too far apart

So I stretch myself across like a bridge
And I pull you to the edge
And stand there waiting
Trying to attain
The end to satisfy the story
Shall I release you?
Must I release you?
As I rise to meet my glory

But my big secret
Gonna hover over your life
Gonna keep you reaching
When I'm gone like yesterday
When I'm high like heaven
When I'm strong like music
'Cause I'm slow like honey, and heavy with mood

© Fiona Apple

domingo, 17 de diciembre de 2006

Hollow years


He's just the kind of man
You hear about
Who leaves his family
For an easy out
They never saw the signs
He never said a word
He couldn't take another day

Carry me to the shoreline
Bury me in the sand
Walk me across the water
And maybe you'll understand

Once the stone you're crawling under
Is lifted off your shoulders
Once the cloud that's raining over your head disappears
The noise that you'll hear
Is the crashing down of hollow years

She's not the kind of girl
You hear about
She'll never want another
She'll never be without
She'll give you all the signs
She'll tell you everything
Then turn around and walk away

Carry me to the shoreline
Bury me in the sand
Walk me across the water
And maybe you'll understand

Once the stone you're crawling under
Is lifted off your shoulders
Once the cloud that's raining over your head disappears
The noise that you'll hear
Is the crashing down of hollow years

Carry me to the shoreline
Bury me in the sand
Walk me across the water
And maybe you'll understand

Once the stone you're crawling under
Is lifted off your shoulders
Once the cloud that's raining over your head disappears
The noise that you'll hear
Is the crashing down of hollow years

Once the stone you're crawling under...
The noise that you'll hear
Is the crashing down of hollow years

© Dream Theater

sábado, 16 de diciembre de 2006

Ruas



As ruas da tua terra conduzem... ao paraiso?.




Música © Rodrigo Leao & Vox Ensemble

Ging heut'morgen übers feld


Ging heut'morgen übers Feld,
Tau noch auf den Gräsern hing;
Sprach zu mir der lust'ge Fink:
Ei, du! Gelt?
Guten morgen! Ei gelt? Du!
Wird's nicht eine schöne Welt?
Zink! Zink!
Schön und flink!
Wie mir doch die Welt gefällt!

Auch die Glockenblum' am Feld
Hat mir lustig, guter Ding'
Mit der Glöcken, klinge, kling,
Klinge, kling,
Ihren Morgengruss geschellt:
Wird's nicht eine schöne Welt?
Kling, kling!
Schönes Ding!
Wie mir doch die Welt gefällt!
Heia!

Und da fing im Sonnenschein
Gleich die Welt zu funkeln an;
Alles Ton und Farbe gewann
Im Sonnenschein!
Blum' und Vogel, Gross und Klein!
Guten Tag!
Ist's nicht eine schöne Welt?
Ei, du! Gelt?
Schöne Welt!

Nun fängt auch mein Glück wohl an?!
Nein! Nein!
Das ich mein'
Mir nimmer, nimmer blühen kann!

Lieder eines fahrenden gesellen © Gustav Mahler
Performed by Hidenori Komatsu

jueves, 14 de diciembre de 2006

Wish you were here


So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? And did they get you trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears, wish you were here.

© Pink Floyd

lunes, 11 de diciembre de 2006

martes, 5 de diciembre de 2006

Sleep


Hear your heartbeat
Beat a frantic pace
And it's not even seven AM
You're feeling the rush of anguish settling
You cannot help showing them in
Hurry up then
Or you'll fall behind and
They will take control of you
And you need to heal the hurt behind your eyes
Fickle words crowding your mind

So
Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in
Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in
And carry you over to a new morning

Try as you might
You try to give it up
Seems to be holding on fast
It's hand in your hand
A shadow over you
A beggar for soul in your face
Still it don't mater if you won't listen
If you won't let them follow you
You just need to heal
Make good all your lies
Move on and don't look behind

So
Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in
Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in
And carry you over to a new morning

Day after day
Fickle visions messing with your head
Fickle, vicious
Sleeping in your bed
Messing with your head
Fickle visions
Fickle, vicious…

Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in
Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in
And carry you over to a new morning

© Poets of the fall

lunes, 4 de diciembre de 2006

Enchantment


* The act of enchanting; the production of certain wonderful effects by the aid of demons, or the agency of supposed spirits; the use of magic arts, spells, or charms; incantation.
* The effect produced by the act; the state of being enchanted; as, to break an enchantment.
* That which captivates the heart and senses; an influence or power which fascinates or highly delights.

Music © Chris Spheeris & Paul Voudouris

domingo, 3 de diciembre de 2006

Carpe Diem



"Si vives cada día de tu vida como si fuera el último, algún día realmente tendrás razón."

Steve Jobs

Música © Rodrigo Leao & Vox ensemble

viernes, 1 de diciembre de 2006

100


Con 100 entradas por banda, viento en popa a todo ADSL, no corta internet sino vuela, un blog musical.

Gracias por aguantar hasta aquí, mis valientes bucaneros.