The Highwayman
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| Εν τέλεια WTF η φώτο αλλά ήβρα την πολλά 'in' σήμερα! |
Αν τζιαι έσhιει μέρες που έχω ΤΑ θέματα να αναλύσω, μόλις θα κάτσω να γράψω ξεχνώ τα ούλα. Τζιαι γράφω απλά τα της ημέρας. Εν θέλω να είμαι έτσι, αλλά μεταξύ των Ρώσων (που δόξασοι πάσσιν ούλα καλά) τζιαι τα των θεατρικών είμαι τόσο κουρασμένη τζιαι σπαταλημένη πας το μένταλ ντιπάρτμεντ του εγκεφάλου που εν μου μεινίσκει τζιαι πολύς νους για να γράφω ότι τζιαι όσα θέλω δαμέσα.
Επαντρέψαμε τζιαι τη Νέρι μας. Τούτο ξέρω εγώ. Επαναπατρίζετε τζιαι η Πρας σύντομα τζιαι κάμνει με να πεινώ πολλά κάθε που έννα ανοίξω το Πρασινο-βλογκ της, η Aenima πάντα με την καλύτερη μουσική, η Tinkerbell που με κάμνει να ζω σε εναν πολλά Sex-and-the-City world έτσι όπως τα περιγράφει ούλα τζιαι κάμνει με να θέλω να πάω NYC NOW τζιαι η Μάνα που εγήνικε ονλάιν φοιτήτρια τζιαι σκέφτουμαι συνέχεια ένα 'βρε λες;'Αααααχχχ...the blogosphere is evolving so fast!
Τζιαι επειδή βαρκούμαι να γράφω βλακείες τζιαι νιώθω στην κυριολεξία νάκκο spent σωματικά τζιαι εγκεφαλικά θα σας βάλω ένα τραγούδι που υπερ-λατρεύω.
Το τραγούδι εν το 'The Highwayman' της Loreena McKennit το οποίο εν βασισμένο σε ένα ποίημα του 18ου από τον Alfred Noyes.
Η ιστορία των στίχων είναι για έναν ληστή τζίντης εποχής που ερωτεύκετε την Μπες, την κόρη ενός πανδοχέα. Κάποιος προδώνει το λοκέισhιον του ληστή τζιαι για να τον προειδοποιήσει η Μπες, θυσιάζεται για να σώσει τον αγαπημένο της. Οργισμένος ο ληστής μας, που το χαμό της αγαπημένης του, προσπαθεί να πάρει μάταια εκδίκηση, μιας τζιαι σκοτώνεται στο τέλος τζιαι τζίνος.
Λατρεύω τη μουσική, της φωνή της, τους στίχους τζιαι φυσικά το μόραλ οφ δε στόρι... true selfless love.
Βάλω σας τα lyrics που κάτω...
Ελπίζω να σας αρέσει τζιαι καλή συνέχεια της εφτομάδας έβριουαν!
Loreena McKennitt - The Highwayman
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the
cloudy seas
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
And the highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark innyard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight,
Watch for me by the moonlight,
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way.
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come at the dawning; he did not come at noon,
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching,
Marching, marching
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement,
The road that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"now keep good watch!" And they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say
"Look for me by the moonlight
Watch for me by the moonlight
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!"
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it!
The trigger at least was hers!
Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs were ringing clear
Tlot-tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming!
She stood up straight and still!
Tlot in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were the spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding,
Riding, riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
And the highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark innyard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight,
Watch for me by the moonlight,
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way.
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come at the dawning; he did not come at noon,
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching,
Marching, marching
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement,
The road that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"now keep good watch!" And they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say
"Look for me by the moonlight
Watch for me by the moonlight
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!"
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it!
The trigger at least was hers!
Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs were ringing clear
Tlot-tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming!
She stood up straight and still!
Tlot in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were the spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding,
Riding, riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Λατρεύω το τούτο τραγούδι τζαι ήμουν τυχερός γιατί το ποίημα του Noyes έτυχε να το διαβάσω πριν το ακούσω. Οποταν αντιλαμβάνεσαι τι eargasm ήταν. Που το τραγούδι λείπουν όμως τρεις στροφές. Η μια είναι η τελευταία που απλά επαναλαμβάνει την πρώτη και η άλλη είναι η τέταρτη από το πρώτο μέρος και η πέμπτη από το δεύτερο. Η τελευταία απλά είναι ακόμα μια στροφή για το πως προσπαθεί να πιάσει το όπλο, αλλά η άλλη που εξηγά πως οι άγγλοι ήρθαν στο πανδοχείο. Τον ληστή τον κάρφωσε ο Tim, ο αγωγιάτης που ήταν τρελλά ερωτευμένος με την Μπες. Και επίσης στο ποίημα είναι "red-lipped daughter", ενώ στο τραγούδι "blackeyed"
ReplyDeleteAnd dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked/ Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay/ But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say
εν θέλω να νομίσεις ότι πουλώ πνεύμα, απλά είδα το τραγούδι τζαι ενθουσιάστηκα
το φοιτήτρια thing να το σκεφτείς σοβαρά! γιατί όχι δηλαδή; :D
ReplyDeleteόσο για το τραγούδι που έβαλες σήμερα εν έχω λόγια όπως πάντα δηλαδή με τις επιλογές σου.
Με τον νου σου Λουυυ
φιλιάαα
Άντεξα δύο βδομάδες φοιτήτρια. όταν έπεσαν τα μαθηματικά και τα μοντέλα και βάλε βγάλε αριθμούς δεν τα έβγαζα πέρα και αποσύρθηκα. ντροπή μου το ξέρω. αλλά το Νιόβρη ξεκινά ένα άλλο course Pure theory και θα το κάμω :).
ReplyDeleteΝα προσέχεις τζαι να περνάς καλά.
@Popcornmaster: Wow, popcornmaster, you just made my day with all these info. Είχα θκιεβάσει την ιστορία αλλά πιο παλά αλλά η ανάλυση σου έφερε πολύ διαύγεια στην ιστορία του ποιήματος. Χαχαχα ξέρω ότι εν πουλάς πνεύμα, άξιουλι άρεσε μου πολλά που τα εξηγάς γιατί καταλάβεις καλύτερα τι έγινε!
ReplyDeleteΘανξ τζιαι ελπίζω να σε ξαναδώ στη βλογκόσφαιρα αφού σου αρέσκουν έτσι τραγούδια. :) x
@Aenima: Μάνα μου ρεεε, θανξ. Άξιουαλι νομίζω επηρεάστικα τζιαι λιο που το δικό σου ποστ σόου είπα να βάλω τζιαι εγώ λίγη μουσικούδα που μας αρέσκει. ;-) xxxx
@Mana:Όχχχιιιιιιιιιι, τζιαι εγώ που σε είχα υπόδειγμα μου τζιαι ιντίαλ μόντελ. Εν πειράζει όμως, καταλάβω σε απόλυτα, γιατί η μέρα δυστυχώς έσhιει μόνο 24 ώρες, νοτ ινάφ. Καλήν αρκή για το νέο κορς. Πρέπει να μας πεις αν εν καλύτερο ή όι. Τζιαι θανξ για τις ευχές σου! :D xxxx
Α καλά. Αμα σου αρέσκει που εξηγώ κόπιασε ποδά
ReplyDelete@Popcornmaster: Έβαλα σε είδη μες τα μπλογκς που παρακολουθώ μουάχαχαχα. Άρεσε μου τζιαι ο τίτλος του μπλογκ σου, σόου είμαστε πόμπα! :D
ReplyDelete