Monday, October 11, 2010
Serviette Folding Instruction
Nijinsky
The song comes from a very large number of techniques and disciplines that tend to link text and music, to make them lose their freedom of movement from instant you try to bring one to the other. The complexity of the act should not make us underestimate the potential wealth of its purpose. The difficulty of poetic songwriting is so obvious that some have made the mistake of making this an impossibility.
Men forget to read slowly, lose the pleasure of going to the things of the spirit and make the passive way of life. The song also can be a major vehicle of poetic images.
Brel is unique. He left a prosperous life for their vocation. Changed your life comfortable with uncertainty. He resigned from the safety and comfort to make learning of misery. His childhood was bourgeois and Catholic. The privilege of learning in children all that does not avail.
sad
Years in Brussels that is usually wrong to war. The song is a means of escape from gentrification. He debuted as a singer by chance. Burn a disc and then travels to Paris, whose artistic wealth prompts him to dream.
The drama of Brel is living in an era where territories worthy of a human adventure have shrunk and disappeared.
"Failure is almost inevitable. We pursue ends that we have set ourselves. But since we lack the strength, our goals are not strong enough to justify the way we do for them. We attend an end of the road somewhere, but that path does not exist. The end is invented and the way you think. Clearly this can not stand. "
For a little tenderness, I'd give the devil diamonds caresses my silver chests. For a little tenderness, I would offer the remaining time of youth to the summer ends.
Behind the filth that is offered to us after the wrinkled eyes and soft face. Beyond those hands open or closed, tend to be in vain or that are raised fist. Farther than the misery, we must look. We have to look at what is beautiful. The gray or blue sky. The flight of a swallow. Above the sobs and tears concert. Above the din of the streets. We need to hear the bird in the forest floor.
When you have no more than love to distribute on the day of great trip, which is our great love. To explode with joy every hour and every day. When you have no more than love, to live our promises with no other wealth rather than believe in it forever. When you have no more than love to meet in the morning to the poor and homeless with velvet coats. When you have no more than love to make the way and force the target at every crossroad. Then with nothing more than the strength of love. We in our hands, folks, the whole world.
I will offer you pearls of rain coming from the country where it rains. On earth to seek after my death to cover your body with gold and light.
Death awaits me in the last leaves of the tree that will be my coffin. To drive better time spent. Death awaits me in the lilacs that a gravedigger shed upon me, to dress better time spent. Death awaits me in a big bed made with sheets of oblivion, to conclude best time spent.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment