rigorousintuition.ca

IanEye » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:41 pm wrote:it was too early for me to bump my "seasons of wither" thread.




*

At the brink of forest where a birch grove is
A stone house stands, and flowers are around
Beautiful Magdalena lives there on her own
The night turns around the hours and she shuts her eyes
Her darling came from the bottom of her heart
He brought her flowers picked off a grave
bloody red flowers and a flute made from bone
for his Magdalena who waits and burns
Beautiful Magdalena loosened her two braids
She opened wide her knees and raised her hands
The bells brought pictures through the time
All night long the fire caressed white stone face

(guitar)

The mists went low, right into the grove of birch
And listened to the whisper, laugh and moan
Until the morning, when the day crowed in the wind
Until the hour when Magdalena rose from the dreams
Crazy dogs barked and showed at her back
But beautiful Magdalena did not hear the words
She whistled songs on the flute made from bone
For her darling, who lies in grave under his eyelids
Her darling had been rising for three years every night
From the coffin in her head, shrouded in satin
He did not hear the blue owls and the drumming of the rain
And the wind that chases the horses over the sky at night

(guitar)

And the blind did not see the times that came in the grove
and teared in her the peace and the sacred name
He crawled into the most dark corner of the soul
His darling betrayed him like the Judas Iscariot
The mists went low, right into the grove of birch
And listened to the whisper, laugh and moan
Until the morning, when the day crowed in the wind
Until the hour when Magdalena rose from the dreams
The thieves came and stole every night
but the true darling of her came nevermore
Crazy dogs barked and showed at her back
and the beautiful Magdalena felt sad.

(guitar, bells)

The years had passed and the face dried up
The time falls down the birches, winter and cold are coming
And old Magdalena with the flute made from bone
whistles and stares into the night until it dawns

( English translation by EdmundSLO )

Lou's groovy mystery ghost story of domestic bliss, gratitude, a ouija board, and the ghost of Delmore Schwartz.

This thread needs more Misfits! Happy Halloween everyone!

The bogus man is at your heels
Now clutching at your coat
You must be quick now, hurry up,
He´s scratching at your throat