1. |
Riberas del Arlanzón
04:07
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2. |
Die ersten Blumen
03:05
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German:
Neben dem Bach
Den roten Weiden nach
Haben in diesen Tagen
Gelbe Blumen viel
Ihre Goldaugen aufgeschlagen.
Und mir, der längst aus der Unschuld fiel,
Rührt sich Erinnerung im Grunde
An meines Lebens goldene Morgenstunde
Und sieht mich hell aus Blumenaugen an.
Ich wollte Blumen brechen gehn;
Nun laß ich sie alle stehn
Und gehe heim, ein alter Mann.
English (The first flowers):
Beside the brook
Toward the willows,
During these days
So many yellow flowers have opened
Their eyes into gold.
I have long since lost my innocence, yet a memory
Touches my depth, the golden hours of morning, and gazes
Brilliantly upon me out of the eyes of flowers.
I was going to pick flowers;
Now I leave them all standing
And walk home, an old man
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3. |
Longa Noite de Pedra
04:35
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Galician:
O teito é de pedra.
De pedra son os muros
i as tebras.
De pedra o chan
i as reixas.
As portas,
as cadeas,
o aire,
as fenestras,
as olladas,
son de pedra.
Os corazós dos homes
que ao lonxe espreitan,
feitos están
tamén
de pedra.
I eu, morrendo
nesta longa noite
de pedra.
English (Long night of stone):
The roof is of stone./ Of stone are the walls/ and the darkness./ Of stone the soil/ and the bars./ The doors,/ the chains,/ the air,/ the windows,/ the looks,/ are of stone./ The hearts of men/ that are lurking in the distance,/ are also/ made/ of stone./ And I’m dying/ in this long night of stone.
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4. |
Ohne dich
03:29
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German:
Mein Kissen schaut mich an zur Nacht
leer wie ein Totenstein;
So bitter hatt ich’s nie gedacht,
Allein zu sein
Und nicht in deinem Haar gebettet sein!
Ich lieg allein im stillen Haus,
die Ampel ausgetan,
Und strecke sacht die Hände aus,
die deinen zu umfahn,
Und dränge leis den heißen Mund
Nach Dir und küss mich matt und wund—
und plötzlich bin ich aufgewacht
und ringsum schweigt die kalte Nacht,
der Stern im Fenster schimmert klar—
o du, wo ist dein blondes Haar,
wo ist dein süßer Mund?
English (Without you):
My pillow watches me in the night
vacant as a grave stone;
I never imagined it would be so bitter
to be alone,
and not entangled in your hair.
I lie alone in a quiet house,
the light gone out,
and gently extend my hands
to reach for yours,
and softly press an impassioned mouth
toward you… but kiss only myself, dull and hurting—
and suddenly I’m awake,
embraced only by the silence of the cold night.
A star shines clearly through the window—
Oh, where is your blonde hair,
where’s your sweet mouth?
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5. |
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She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
—Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
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6. |
Los Viejos Dioses
06:44
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Los viejos dioses marchan al olvido,
Las viejas diosas marchan al exilio.
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Savia Eterna Alicante, Spain
:🜨: Nuevas músicas que beben de viejas fuentes, lenguas, poesía e inquietudes varias :ᛃ:
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