[LYRICS] LIKE A FIEND IN A CLOUD

Bal Macabre

Eight o’clock, moonlight is shining,
The fiery fields embrace the music.
Masks begin to dance, inimate,
Lots of personalities are hiding.
Slowly the violons are crying
Overwhelming the fleshy hood,
Of a woman who lost her heart
In a final valse with human being.

Esto sertis implicata,
O femina delicata
Per quam soluuntur peccata !
Sicut beneficum Lethe,
Hauriam oscula de te,
Quae imbuta es magnete.
Velut stella salutaris  In naufragiis amaris…
– Suspendam cor tuis aris !

A tortured corpse is found, a maid,
With open eyes and a smiling face.
A cloudless statue red and white,
Which disappears in changing haze.
A ring is formed and hand to hand
They focus on the cold-dead body,
start to laugh – the begining of the end –
A Bal Macabre of humanity

An obscure orgy
A close society
A kind of sanctuary
A sect – a sect – with no morality

Nouis te cantabo chordis,
O nouelletum quod ludis
In solitudine cordis.
Cum mortis salta

Quum uitiorum tempestas
Turbabat omnes semitas,
In naufragiis amaris…
Mors repetina

Subfere – ad nauseam
Subfere – ad vitam eternam

An obscure orgy
A close society
A kind of sanctuary
A sect – a sect – with no morality

Twelve o’clock, moonlight bleeds black,
the fiery fields hail the music.
Masks stop to dance, certainly
No is what he pretends to be;
Slowly the violons finish on a festive tone
Overwhelming, the last minds bone
Death was coming, death is gone.

(Latin extracts Copyright Charles Baudelaire, Franciscae meae Laudes)

Hibernal Sadness

Winter is coming, freezing and deep.
Lakes are forsaken – the forest sleep.
And the oak and the landscapes – Aurora is awaken.
Hibernal Coldness, I’m alone.
Hibernal Sadness – Spleen.

The horizon is white,
Solitude far and wide;
Escape from the dakness,
Searching for someone;
But the night is coming,
Threatening, threatening (x2)

Suffering !
In a world funarally than the night.
My wit grown loudly.
Goodbye esperance.

The heaven sway, like a carceral covern;
Conquered, the agonizing anguish,
On my spirit set a flag,
the color is black.

 Feathers

Les yeux des animaux chanteurs
Et leurs chants de colère ou d’ennui
M’ont interdit de sortir de ce lit.
J’y passerai ma vie.

L’aube dans les pays sans grâce,
Prend l’apparence de l’oubli.
Et qu’une femme émue s’endorme, à l’aube,
La tête la première, sa chute l’illumine.

Un bel oiseau me montre la lumière
Elle est dans ses yeux, bien en vue.
Il chante sur une boule de gui
Au milieu du soleil. (x2)

Comment prendre plaisir à tout ?
Plutôt tout effacer.
L’homme de tous les mouvements,
De tous les sacrifices et de toutes les conquêtes

Dort. Il dort, il dort, il dort.
Il raye de ses soupirs la nuit minuscule.

Un bel oiseau me montre la lumière Elle est dans ses yeux, bien en vue.
Il chante sur une boule de gui
Au milieu du soleil.

Dort. Il dort, il dort, il dort.
Il raye de ses soupirs la nuit minuscule.

Je n’ai jamais rêvé d’une si belle nuit.
Les femmes du jardin cherchent à m’embrasser —
Soutiens du ciel, les arbres immobiles
Embrassent bien l’ombre qui les soutient.
Une femme au cœur pâle
Met la nuit dans ses habits.
L’amour a découvert la nuit Sur ses seins impalpables.

(Copyright Paul Eluard, Au cœur de mon amour)

Autumns Call

Carnivore of my daydreams,
Obscure sentiment of silence.
Secret touch in my earlapse;
Eternety at a crawl –
And I collapse

Silence
When finally the wind blows
A blue stream crushes the evidence.
Melody
Autumn is calling
Outrageous evidence

Liquid steps – letter to a ghost;
Livid eyes, killing my reflective sense; Ashes floating in my lungs,
Pillow hold me so I can fall –
And I collapse

Silence
When finally the wind blows
A blue stream crushes the evidence
Melody
Autumn is calling
Outrageous evidence

Perpetual Place

J’ai marché en pleurant, le long d’un sentier rude;
La lune veillait sur ma route, de son regard d’argent.
Ma fille dans mes bras, sanglote et gémit. J’ai marché en pleurant, le long d’un sentier rude;
J’ai serré dans mes bras mon enfant, déplorant,
De devoir l’apporter au cœur de la nuit.
J’ai marché, déplorant, le long d’un sentier rude,
La lune veille sur ma route, et son regard berçant,
Illumine ma fille, et pleure sa maladie.
Au cœur de la nuit, le long d’un sentier rude,
J’ai prié pour ma fille, demandant instamment,
Que je meure et qu’elle vive, j’ai demandé sa vie.
J’ai prié pour elle, le long du sentier rude,
Et elle s’éveille en pleurant;
Au cœur de la nuit, ma fille dépérit.
Mais je garde l’espoir, le long du sentier rude,
La lune entend les prières que je livre en gémissant. En marchant je serre ma fille contre moi, elle vit.

(Copyright Jonathan Petitot, En priant pour ma fille, 16/02/2009)

Bal Macabre – Epilogue

The lady in blue mesmerizes our senses.
Vertue and wine, in a velvet glove of vanity.
Dim the lights, stare above the water.
Oh ! Sweetness that charms and joy that makes one die –
You are the drowning man.

I remember the day,
When in great suffer,
I smiled with tenderness
To a passerby.

Always surrounded by a halo,
And northern lights;
She’s nothing but a fading dream –
A light in the rain, filled with red ink in her eyes.

Like a Fiend in a Cloud

But lo! the morning peeps
Over the eastern steeps,
And the rustling beds of dawn
The earth do scorn.

The wild winds weep,
And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs enfold! . . .

Lo! to the vault
Of pavèd heaven,
With sorrow fraught,
My notes are driven: (x2)

Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe
After night I do crowd
And with night will go;

They strike the ear of Night,
Make weak the eyes of Day;
They make mad the roaring winds,
And with the tempests play,

I turn my back to the east
From whence comforts have increased;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.

The wild winds weep,
And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs enfold! . . .

Lo! to the vault
Of pavèd heaven,
With sorrow fraught,
My notes are driven: (x2)

(Copyright William Blake, Mad Song)

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