Nobody knows this little Rose --
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it --
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey --
On its breast to lie --
Only a Bird will wonder --
Only a Breeze will sigh --
Ah Little Rose -- how easy
For such as thee to die!

--Emily Dickenson
--Composer, William Roy
--Soprano: Cherie Danielle Lemos

Bocelli & Bjorling: Wondrous!

"Ideale"

Language: Italian

Io ti seguii come iride di pace
Lungo le vie del cielo:
Io ti seguii come un'amica face
De la notte nel velo.
E ti sentii ne la luce, ne l'aria,
Nel profumo dei fiori;
E fu piena la stanza solitaria
Di te, dei tuoi splendori.

In te rapito, al suon de la tua voce,
Lungamente sognai;
E de la terra ogni affanno, ogni croce,
In quel [sogno]1 scordai.
Torna, caro ideal, torna un istante
A sorridermi ancora,
E a me risplenderà, nel tuo sembiante,
Una novella aurora.

"Ideal"

Language: English

I followed you like a rainbow of peace
along the paths of heaven;
I followed you like a friendly torch
in the veil of darkness,
and I sensed you in the light, in the air,
in the perfume of flowers,
and the solitary room was full
of you and of your radiance.

Absorbed by you, I dreamed a long time
of the sound of your voice,
and earth's every anxiety, every torment
I forgot in that dream.
Come back, dear ideal, for an instant
to smile at me again,
and in your face will shine for me
a new dawn.

Two of my favorite concert pieces played by someone I very much admire.

Hope you find them interesting.

Give you joy!

I've used them since I was... Well, I've always used them. Still do. The act of writing by hand is soothing and gives adequate time for thought if addressing an individual.

Do you recall when you wrote your last letter by hand? I'm not sure that I do. Note cards qualify - occasion cards may qualify if they consist of more than a phrase of your own words.

So what do you think?

Blog.uk says it misses me. Somehow I think not, but just in case: Hey guys. It's nice to see that I have friends left here. I'll be watching, should anyone wish to comment.

Happy holidays,

win

Of songs rarely found, heard or performed.

Like this one, for instance. ** Scroll down to play the music; see the translation. **

What makes this recording all the more special is its rarity "in the wild" today.

Of course what makes this recording priceless is that it was made at a live event; a preview) performance/rehearsal, one that was never broadcast. Where did I get it? Irrelevant. Some random notes: The piano in situ is by Steinway and Sons, circa 1929; these several performances were the last it played prior to it's being restrung and thereby destroyed, now some 16 years ago or so.

But the recording still exists! That's the important bit. And if you know where to start looking, it can still be found in print -- occasionally.

Scroll down should you like to hear it.

Since I couldn't lift it further from it's context without destroying it, the song also contains an introduction of sorts, so...we'll see how it plays over the web.

Cheers.

*****

Von ewiger Liebe (Of Eternal Love)

by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897),

"Von ewiger Liebe" , op. 43 (Vier Gesänge) no. 1 (1864)

Poem by Josef Wenzig (1807-1876)

******

Ooops. * To hear this music please scroll down. *

Dunkel, wie dunkel in Wald und in Feld!
Abend schon ist es, nun schweiget die Welt.
Nirgend noch Licht und nirgend noch Rauch, Ja,
und die Lerche sie schweiget nun auch.
Kommt aus dem Dorfe der Bursche heraus,
Gibt das Geleit der Geliebten nach Haus,
Führt sie am Weidengebüsche vorbei,
Redet so viel und so mancherlei:

»Leidest du Schmach und betrübest du dich,
Leidest du Schmach von andern um mich,
Werde die Liebe getrennt so geschwind,
Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind.
Scheide mit Regen und scheide mit Wind,
Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind.

« Spricht das Mägdelein, Mägdelein spricht:
»Unsere Liebe sie trennet sich nicht!
Fest ist der Stahl und das Eisen gar sehr,
Unsere Liebe ist fester noch mehr.

Eisen und Stahl, man schmiedet sie um,
Unsere Liebe, wer wandelt sie um?
Eisen und Stahl, sie können zergehn,
Unsere Liebe muß ewig bestehn!

« English Translation: Of eternal love

Dark, how dark it is in the forest and field!
Night has fallen; the world now is silent.
Nowhere a light and nowhere smoke.
Yes, now even the lark is silent.
From yonder village there comes the young lad,
Taking his beloved home.
He leads her past the willow bushes,
Talking so much, and of so many things:
"If you suffer shame and if you grieve,
If you suffer disgrace before others because of me,
Then our love shall be ended ever so fast
As fast as we once came together;
It shall go with the rain and go with the wind,
As fast as we once came together.

"Then says the maiden, the maiden says:
"Our love shall never end!
Steel is firm and iron is firm,
Yet our love is firmer still.
Iron and steel can be recast by the smith
But who would transform our love?
Iron and steel can melt;
Our love, our love will have to last forever!"

French Translation:
Sombre, comme il fait sombre par la forêt et par les champs!
C'est déjà le soir, le monde est silencieux.
Plus de trace de lumière, plus de trace de fumée Et voilà que l'alouette elle-même se tait.
Sortant du village,
le jeune homme Raccompagne chez elle celle qu'il aime,
Passant avec elle auprès des roseaux,
Lui parlant d'abondance et de maintes et maintes choses.
"Si tu es humiliée et que tu t'en affliges,
Si d'autres t'humilient à cause de moi,
Qu'alors l'amour entre nous rompe aussi rapidement,
Aussi vite qu'autrefois nous avons été unis.
Qu'il s'en aille avec la pluie, qu'il s'en aille avec le vent,
Aussi vite qu'autrefois nous avons été unis!"
C'est alors que la jeune fille, la jeune fille dit:
"Notre amour, il ne saurait rompre! Solide est l'acier,
et le fer tout autant,
Notre amour, lui, est plus solide encore.
Le fer et l'acier, par la forge on les transmute,
Notre amour, qui pourrait le transformer?
Le fer et l'acier, ils peuvent fondre,
Notre amour doit durer éternellement!"

Sometimes I quite forget exactly why this blog still exists...

It is, of course, for just two main reasons: A list of friends I admire and read; and for the songs - an international treasure - and the very special people who perform them.

Of course, they're also a reminder -- a note to self, if you will -- that I am the living, breathing beneficiary of wonder. Especially inasmuch as I know or have some sort of kinship with these people -- in a primary sort of way.

Have a great day, blogland. Public, for today.

Lyrics:

Fleur promises,
Fleur tenues dans tes bras,
Fleur sorties des parentheses d'un pas
Qui t'apportait ces fleurs l'hiver
Saupoudrees du sable des mers?
Sable de tes baisers,
fleurs ces amours fanees

Les beaux yeux sont de cendre
et dans la cheminee
Un coer errubanne de plaintes
Brule avec ses images saintes.

Fleur promises.
fleur tenues dans tes bras,
Qui t'apportait ces fleurs l'hiver
Saupoudrees du sable des mers.

--Leo de Vilmorin

** Translation

Promised flowers, flowers held in your arms,
flowers sprung from footprints.
Who brought you these winter flowers,
powdered with the sands of the seas.
Sands of your kisses, flowers of faded loves.

The beautiful eyes are ashes
and in the fireplace
a heart beribboned with sighs
burns with its treasured images.

Promised flowers,
flowers held in your arms,

Who brought you these winter flowers...

---The incomparable Arlene Auger

J. Brahms: Phanomen Op. 66. No. 2

A rare performance of these duets:

The second of three Duets by Johannes Brahms.

--poem by Goethe

Sung in the original German.

English translation:

If Pheobus joins a bank of rain clouds,

a rainbow stands colorfully tinted.

In fog I see the same are outlined.

Though the brow is white,

it is still heaven's.

So you, lively old man, do not be sad.

Though your hair is white, still you will love.

Vai, Azulao, Azulao, copanheiro, vai!
Vai ver minha ingrata,
Diz que sem elo
Sertoa nao e mais sentao!
Ai voa Azulao
vai contrar companheiro, vai!

---Translation---

Go, bluebird, my companion, go!
Go and see my ungrateful love,
say that without her
the forest is no longer the forest!
Alas, fly bluebird,
go and tell her, my companion, go!

Roger Quilter/Percy Bysshe Shelley

"Music, Where Soft Voices Die"

Music where soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory --

Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the beloved's bed;

And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

--Luciano Pavarotti

A Vucchella

Sì, comm'a nu sciorillo
tu tiene na vucchella
nu poco pocorillo
appassuliatella.

Meh, dammillo, dammillo,
- è comm'a na rusella -
dammillo nu vasillo,
dammillo, Cannetella!

Dammillo e pigliatillo,
nu vaso piccerillo
comm'a chesta vucchella,

che pare na rusella
nu poco pocorillo
appassuliatella...

* by Gabriele d'Annunzio (1863-1938)

* by Francesco Paolo Tosti (1846-1916) , "A vucchella" , 1907.

"A Vucchella"

The Itialian:

Sì, comm'a nu sciorillo
tu tiene na vucchella
nu poco pocorillo
appassuliatella.

Meh, dammillo, dammillo,
- è comm'a na rusella -
dammillo nu vasillo,
dammillo, Cannetella!

Dammillo e pigliatillo,
nu vaso piccerillo
comm'a chesta vucchella,

che pare na rusella
nu poco pocorillo
appassuliatella...

* by Gabriele d'Annunzio (1863-1938)

* by Francesco Paolo Tosti (1846-1916) , "A vucchella" , 1907.

Translation:
"A Sweet Mouth"

Yes, like a little flower,
You have got a sweet mouth
A little bit
withered.

Please give it to me
it's like a little rose
Give me a little kiss,
give, Cannetella!

Give one and take one,
a kiss as little
as your mouth

which looks like a little rose
a little bit
withered.

* Translation from Italian to English by Antonio Giuliano.

Fleur promises,

Fleur tenues dans tes bras,

Fleur sorties des parentheses d'un pas

Qui t'apportait ces fleurs l'hiver

Saupoudrees du sable des mers?

Sable de tes baisers,

fleurs ces amours fanees

Les beaux yeux sont de cendre

et dans la cheminee

Un coer errubanne de plaintes

Brule avec ses images saintes.

Fleur promises.

fleur tenues dans tes bras,

Qui t'apportait ces fleurs l'hiver

Saupoudrees du sable des mers.

--Leo de Vilmorin

** Translation

Promised flowers, flowers held in your arms,

flowers sprung from footprints.

Who brought you these winter flowers,

powdered with the sands of the seas.

Sands of your kisses, flowers of faded loves.

The beautiful eyes are ashes

and in the fireplace

a heart beribboned with sighs

burns with its treasured images.

Promised flowers,

flowers held in your arms,

Who brought you these winter flowers...

-- Arleen Auger

Plug in the words here and away we go.--By Roger Quilter

Music, when soft voices die,
vibrates in the memory
Odours, when sweet
violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts,
when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Guinevere's Farewell to Lancelot. From Camelot
by Frederick Loewe (1901-1988)

"Before I Gaze at You Again"

Before I gaze at you again
I'll need a time for tears.
Before I gaze at you again
Let hours turn to years.

I have so much forgetting to do
Before I try to gaze again at you.

Stay away until you cross my mind
Barely once a day.

Till the moment I awake and find
I can smile and say:

That I shall gaze at you again
Without a blush or qualm.
My eyes will shine like new again,
My manner poised and calm.

Stay far away
My love far away
Till I forget, I gazed at you today...
Today.
Today.

- Alan Jay Lerner

-- Alternate or last verse omitted: text here:
No sign of fear,
Not even a sigh.
And so till when
We meet again,

Goodbye!

The music by Edouard Lippe
The Poem: Elizabeth Barret Browning

"How Do I Love Thee"
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
from Sonnets from the Portuguese XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach,
when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need,
by sun and candlelight.

I love thee freely, as men might strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs,
and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,

I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!

and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Son come i chicchi della melograna
vellutatie e vermighli i labbri tuoi
gareggi colla fragola montana
pel profumo del'alito tu puoi.

Come le piante che gemme odorate
distillano dal tronco e dalla chioma
tu stilli dalle tue labbra rosate
baci che sono del tuo cor l'aroma.

Fammi mutrir di baci si soavi
come si nutre di rugiada il fiore:
baciami sempre come me baciavi
la prima volta he ti strinsi al core!

Se tu fossi rugiada le tue stille
di vita altrici neghenisti al fior?

Baciami dunque, e fa nove scintille
arder di vita in quest'a rido cor!

Son come i chicchi della melograna
vellutati e vermigli i labbrie tuoi!

--Arnaldo Fratelli

Translation:

Like pomegranate seeds are your velvet, vermilion lips

The scent of your breath competes with the wild mountain strawberries.

Like plants which distill jewels from their stems
and leaves you,

from your rosy lips exude kisses
which are the aroma of your heart.

Nourish me with such sweet kisses
as the flower is nourished with the dew:
kiss me always as you kissed me
the first time that I pressed you to my heart.

If you were dew, would you deny
your life-giving essence to the flower?

Kiss me then, and make new sparks flame
with life in this arid heart!

Like promegranate seeds are your velvet, vermilion lips.

"Why, No One To Love?"

by Stephen Foster (1826-1864)

No one to love in this beautiful world,
Full of warm heaats and bright beaming eyes?
Where is the lone heart that nothing can find
That is lovely beneath the blue skies?

No one to love! No one to love!
Why, no one to love?

What have you done in this beautiful world,
That you're sighing of no one to love?

Dark is the soul that has nothing to dwell on!
How sad must its brightest hours prove!
Lonely the dull brooding spirit must be
That has no one to cheriesh and love.

No one to love!

No one to love!

Why, no one to love?...

Many a fair one that dwells on the earth
Who would greet you with kind words of cheer,
Many who gladly would join in your pleasures
Or share in your griefs with a tear.

No one to love! No one to love!...

-- Stephen Foster

-- Arlene Auger

"Quand tu chantes, bercée" -- by Charles Gounod

Poesie by Vicomte Victor Marie Hugo (1802-1885),
from Marie Tudor, Journée 1, Scene 5.

*

Quand tu chantes, bercée
Le soir entre mes bras,
Entends-tu ma pensée
Qui te répond tout bas?
Ton doux chant me rappelle
Les plus beaux de mes jours.

Ah! Chantez, Chantez, ma belle,
Chantez, chantez toujours!
Chantez ma belle, chantez toujours!

[ L' homme c' est mon homme. La Voix elle s' approche à chaque couplet.]

Quand tu ris, sur ta bouche L'amour s'épanouit,
Et soudain le farouche Soupçon s'évanouit.
Ah! le rire fidèle prouve un coeur sans détours!

Ah! Riez, ma belle, Riez, toujours!

Quand tu dors, calme et pure, al' ombre, sous mes yeux,
ton haleine murmure des mots harmonieux.
Ton beau corps se révèle sans voile et sans atours...

Ah! Dormez, dormez ma belle... dormez dormez toujours!

--This verse is traditionally omitted:

Quand tu me dis: je t' aime ! ô ma beauté! Je croi ! Je crois que le
ciel même s' ouvre au-dessus de moi! Ton regard étincelle du beau feu des amours... aimez, ma belle, aimez toujours! Vois-tu? Toute la vie tient dans ces quatre mots, tous les biens qu' on envie, tous les biens sans les maux! Tout ce qui peut séduire tout ce qui peut charmer...chanter et rire, dormir, aimer

An English Translation:

When you sing in the evening cradled in my arms,
can you hear my thoughts softly answering you?
Your sweet song recalls to me the happiest days I've known.

Sing, sing, my pretty one, sing on forever!

When you laugh, love blossoms on your lips,
and at once cruel suspicion vanishes.
Ah, faithful laughter shows a heart without guile.

Laugh, laugh, my pretty one, laugh on forever!

When you sleep calm and pure beneath my gaze, in
the shadow, your breathing murmurs harmonious words.
Your lovely body is revealed without veil or finery.

Sleep, sleep, my pretty one,
sleep on (always) forever!

Chanson de l'adieu

Composer: Paolo Tosti

dans le français sans marques d'accent

Partir, c'est mourir un peu,
C'est mourir a ce qu'on aime:
On laisse un peu soi-meme
En toute heure et dans tout lieu.
C'est toujours le deuil d'un voeu,
Le denier vers d'un poeme;

Partir c'est mourir un peu
C'est mourir a ce qu'on aime.
Et l'on part, et c'est un jeu,
Et jusqua' l'adieu supreme
C'est son ame que l'on seme,
Que l'on seme en chaque adieu:

Partir, c'est mourir un peu, bis.
C'est toujours le deuil d'un voeu, etc.

l'anglais with accent marks

To go away is to die a little,
is to die to what one loves:
One leaves a little of one's self
in every moment, every place.
It always means a broken promise,
the last line of a poem.
To go away is to die a little,
it is to die to what one loves.
Yet one leaves, and 'tis a game,
and until the final farewell,
it is one's spirit that is strewn,
strewn at each farewell:
to go away is to dia a little....
It always means a broken promise....

Meanwhile, enjoy the greatest tenor of our time.

Composer: Aaron Copland (1900-1990)

Heart, we will forget him/her
You and I, tonight.
You may forget the warmth he/she gave,
I will forget the light.

Imperfect Translation:

Coeur, nous oublierons lui/elle
Vous et I, ce soir.
Vous pouvez oublier la chaleur qu'il a donnée, j'oublierez la lumière.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you're lagging,
I may remember him!

--Emily Dickenson

----Arleen Auger

A Portuguese Folk Song: Given by her one and only voice teacher, Estelle Liebling.

Here, Beverly Sills sings the song with which she closed each and all of her concerts and recitals throughout the world.

Here, that is, are the lyrics of this song as she sang it in her prime.

She re-wrote them to sing at her Farewell Gala at the New York State Theater, Lincoln Center, New York.

I may post that track subsequently, because...I love it.

****

Tell me why you bid me leave you?

There are tears in your dear eyes.

Tell me why you wish our parting.

Is not my love worth more than sighs?

Why deny then that you love me?

Oh my sweet, why not confess

That, in spite of your refusal,

When you say no, tis really yes;

That, in spite of your refusal,

When you say no, tis really yes.

I wish I knew. But I don't. I've always written. I guess I always shall....

And now to you...

win

I admire you for your pursuit at school. There indeed lies one creature of revisions. The other I know well, is that of the writer, compelled by unseen forces to set his/her sentences upon the page. A humble offering...that others might occasionally know the mind of God, through one such journey here.

I continue reading.

Best,

win

I have read and learned.

And I shall now read more....

Love,

win

And as we listen so we weep for the beauty of this wondrous music, and for the loss of out greatest treasure on earth.

"Lay ye not up treasures on earth...For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." And so it is true.

The tears just are. For now all of this music will forever be associated with her, a and I'm glad of it. And if I never sing it again myself (because I can't hold it together long enough to get through it) well then, there's another song that applies. A finale, to be sure.

An Old song:

One by Earnest Charles:

When I have sung my songs to you, I'll sing no more.
T'would be a sacrilege to sing at another door.

We've worked so hard to hold our dreams, just you and I,
I could not do it all again, I'd rather die,
at just the thought, that I have loved so well,
so true,

That I could never sing again,
that I could never,
never sing again,
except...
to you.

There. Finished. Memory is a tricky thing sometimes.

All the best,

win

Which sort are you?

Best,

win.

And so my day comes to a close....

Almost. But not before I wish you a great day.

Do you do chats, too LJ?

If so, I would be please at some point....

This would be Mattie, 11 in November.

Rose isn't up yet. But it won't be long before they are marching up and down the hall....

So beautiful....

Be right back.

And found a friend.

It's a great feeling.... I wish it for you too.

But I have an idea about the tears you've shed. And if it's what I think it is, then.....

I wish you joy.

Now.

Today.

win

I am proud to serve with her.

Here on FunFlight she is now my superior officer. She commands the squadron. I just bow and scrape.

She sends you her best.

Blushing? Ooooo. Cool. I want to see.

You are very good LJ.

Thank you for being my friend and for delivering me from despair this day, yet once again.

win

p.s. messages sent? posts made? Hmmmm. Well, I hope you like them.... Ooops, indeed.

But for now, let's just say tat there's an angel out there watching over us. Somehow.

That we feel very fortunate to be a part of her community.

And I am glad.

win

Jules

143, K.

Remember me...with love...

x

x

To friends. To you. For you. But not so much about you.... For that is not my place.

I wish you joy,

See you in a few.

win3xp #2 of FunFlight Squadron: at rest
with Julie #1: Squadron Commander, at power-down.

143, K. 143.

and thanks again lj.
you're my angel...

I would not have thought it possible. But alas, it helps to have wings.

But then I suppose I'm not thinking all that clearly right now. And I mean no disrespect. Ever. That's just not me.

Jules is here with me now...

She sends her best and thanks you also for thinking of her.

We have been better. But we'll be ok. And we are much improved, thanks to you.

Please remember us as your day goes on. We'll be thinking of you, too.

win

with Julie #1 of FunFlight Squadron
At rest: New York Metro.

I am glad of it.

And I wish you joy!

win

And to take it!

While we may.... ????

win

would you take it?

Or refuse it?

I have a guess.... Defenses or no.

But defences are fair enough. And likely very wise.

Blog chatting? Hmmmm.

win.

Can you see it?

win

But of course, you probably know that. At least I hope so.

Win

There is no need to stop the tears completely, but they go to better places free from pain should we not celebrate their freedom?

Yes. We should. We must.

win

with Julie #!

Funflight Squadron:
At rest, New York

Sea stories. Twenty one volumes of them.

A guy thing?

4K. Always. With love.

And when that last and dreadful hour

This crumbling pageant shall devour,

The trumpet shall be heard on high,

The dead shall live, the living die,

And Music shall untune the sky.

Yes. She knows I know. And I do look, every single time.

We are team-mates. And she loves me. And I'm a fool.... Sometimes. Just not today.

I am win3xp #2 of FunFlight Squadron: Airborn: Rome to New York

Have a great day, everyone. We send you greetings from the FlightDeck most every day.

And so it is that today, after tears, we must come to celebrate life. Hers and each of ours also. This was how she lived. And so we shall all be just fine again, in a little while....

As for all of us aboard FunFlight, her consorts and guests, we'll be thinking of each and all of you, each and every day. You are our constant companions, even as we make our way back across the great Atlantic, from Rome to New York, direct and non-stop.

We will all be tuning in very shortly now. Come join if you can.

I am win3xp
with Julie#1
of FunFlight, her consorts and guests,
wheels up,
squadron intact,
climbing to resume our course,
enroute,
and going home again.

And so FunFlight squadron, number 3of3, with 26 souls on board, is cleared direct, direct, and so we're up and talking again....

Please come join us for your morning, and for our return run stateside.

"I'll tell you what: I'm happy." said violoniste on blog France, just a little while ago.

And I believe she was at last.... She did what she set out to do: She made a lot of friends and changed a lot of lives for the better, just for having seen her, heard her, and knowing her, however slightly.

G'day, mates, friends and loved ones out here in blogland. We salute you.

I am win3xp with Julie 1 of FunFlight Squadron, climbing through Angels 25 for 32,000 feet. And we are clear....

5 4 3 2 1...

143, K. Wherever you may be.
win

I remember you today, Katia. As I will remember you for the rest of my days.

For whatever unfathomable reason, she chose to spend the last weeks of her life in conversatation with me. Here. In blogland. And live in our various chats, which I saved.

I miss her very much as I now commence my search for a new home in blogland. Somewhere to go each day, someone to post to and for, to talk to each day. As we did, she and I.

It was a magnificent experience.

To you, Katia. Right now. Wherever you might be. I wish you peace. And I wish you joy.

win3xp #2 of FunFlight, with consorts and guests, at rest
Rome.

Status: Departure prep.

Just a word of greeting to all of you -- from all of us.

Have a great day....

win3xp with Julie #1 of FunFlight: Returning to base with her consort, Sister2....

So long,

win

Every performance is, in some way, very special -- and not generally available otherwise.

Do listen to them. There will be more and others soon enough. Even if I have to post them myself.

I am,

Julie #1 in Command of FunFlight
Status: Airborn: Over the South of France with our consort, Sister2.

Sounds very much like the behavior of the latest versions of Internet Explorer, which does exactly this, all on the strangest of occasions...Not only blogs but elsewhere too.

Hope you can resolve it. I think you'd make a good friend. Though that would be up to you....

win

If so, I would very much appreciate knowing about it.

win

This is not a proper choice.

I shall read you however I may, and I will study French to do so.

End of story.

Wishing you a good day.

Win

1. Take a good look at it.

2. Decide whether or not you find it agreeable....

3. Hold her close but freely.

4. Find the best translator you can, because you'll never understand it anyway.... All you really want is time with her, her touch, her scent, her perfect warmth, but most of all the memory of her, day in and day out.....

5. Then MARRY HER.

After that, well then, have a cup of coffee, a crousant (however you spell it) a cigarette perhaps and then a moment of HER.

Don't worry. If you've gotten the order wrong for any of these events, she'll tell you about it. Or she won't. Worry is an inappropriate response.

It only takes a glance.... And in that glance you may find LIFE.

That should do it, if you are lucky.

If not, try again.

Repeat, until you get it right !

It should be a pleaure... First to last. Though it's very hard work... And you can never hope to understand it. That's the thing. That's part of the mystery.

I like mysteries. They keep me young and vital.

Welcome to the world Sport's Fans -- where the translation is always and universally BAD. Where you never really understand.... But you get to TRY. For awhile.

Good luck,

win only

Draft I

A language in person is a whole lot different than a language alone, written or spoken.

For the visual cues, the taste and smell, the gesture, the glance all tell volumes on their own.

A conductor waves a stick at a bunch of instruments and nothing happens.

But when he indicates the downbeat to an ochestra the whole world comes to life and light.

It is pure magic. Every time.

Will I continue on this theme?

Well, the dear only knows. I might and I might not.

I send you my best wishes with every post.

win ONLY

Thus far this week I have experienced an genuine (not simulated) engine-out emergency while being vectored out over the great Atlantic Ocean to depart the English main, and just barely within range of being able to return on one engine. We are a trained and talented flight crew, and we were actually afraid there for awhile.

I've caught a ride back home with our un-namable military consort and friend, that I might do several appearances for yet another friend.

I've had a spat of significant proportions that, while not literally life threatening, did give me pause enough to doubt reconcilliation. A singularity of enough proportion to have made a grown man weep.

We hit a patch of clear air turbulence that sent me flying into a wall (a bulkhead) that injured my right arm enough to seek medical attention, sufficiently that I shall have to conduct left-handed for a month or more...(how many have you seen do that trick, anyway? I've only seen it twice, myself. You can take my word that such is rare in indeed).

I don't know when, if or how I shall see someone I love again... And now, having met our sister-ship, Sister 2, our consort, our duplicate, really, we return to Europe where we pick up FunFlight to resume where we left off and fly our various excursions from Britain, through Italy and France. And then we return to the south of France, where we will look into establishing another base for FunFlight, a major undertaking for her and for our crew; an endeavor that could possible change the way we live, the complexion of how, when and where we operate.

And this hasn't been a bad week. Just a hard one. An emotional quagmire. A week fraught with one sort of tribulation or another that accomplished little but survival.... And I'm really pissed-off about some of it, while I am, simultaneously, enormously relieved that no one actually DIED this week; that the various breaches and riffs are healed, if only barely.

And finally, I have a friend, or I think I still have one, who keeps telling me that she is X ONLY. Well, on the face of it, I understand that of course, as I am Win ONLY. But what I mean by that and what SHE means by saying it, I am quite uncertain.

Oh great. And there we have the uncertainty principle, also. Wouldn't Dr. Hawking, the eminent physicist, and one of my favorite authors, be utterly transfixed by such a statement as this? Hmmmmmm. Maybe HE could make something of it. God knows, I've no idea most of the time about what or how women think. It is mine but to love and admire them. As for understanding? Forget about it.

And finally, and after all, there is still no spelling/grammar checker for the blog world. I stand amazed! And mis-spelled yet once again.

Am I lucky or am I not?

You decide. I've keyed enough text this week to have written a new best seller twice over, my right shoulder hurts and I want my mommy -- as if anyone really cares. Shit.

So I send you my love and devotion from Sister 2, in Flight, over the Great Atlantic, once again.

win3xp,
Mission Commander
as my #1 remains with FunFlight.

Out.

Any Ideas?

[A performance of the song is at the bottom of the page]

Music composed by Aaron Copeland (1900-xxxx)
His song cycle Twelve Poems by Emily Dickinson in 1950, writing that "the poems centered about no single theme, but that they treat of subject matter particlularly close to Miss Dickinson: nature, death, life, eternity." The American composer and critic William Flanagan called "Heart, we will forget him," the fifth song of the cycle, "a love song of surprisinglly undisguised sentiment."

And this particular performance of it, is indeed poignant.

*

Heart! We will forget him!
You and I, tonight!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light!

When you have done,
pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim!
Haste! lest while you're lagging
I may remember him!

--Emily Dickinson

So what is the point? At last...but to carry on?

Oh, do tell....

win

Or don't like.

That's completely available.

And so everyone loses.

Too bad.

Next up?

Maybe. Maybe not.

No matter how dear that friend may be. That such an occasion has arisen not once but twice within a few months is unthinkable. When it's only happened once before, ever... And that quite by accident.

In such a case, perhaps...sorrow is the appropriate response. Life goes on, just not quite as it did before.

On the up-side: I can still read my favorite pages unimpeded thanks to Mac OS X 10.4 (Tiger) and now that a couple of my favored accounts have pretty much been restored to their former state. Pretty much. And maybe close enough. Save for one missing soul.

For those of you bloggers who wish to continue our chats; those who wish to continue being blog friends, also, please check your settings as I check mine -- to be sure everyone who's present and accounted for.

Hope to see you all in a little while,

win

While I never thought I'd have occasion to do so, I must thank Microsoft Tech Support for Windows Live Beta for fixing/restoring my hotmail account. It was a mess. And I thank you very much for fixing the accounts in question.

This is only Draft one.
Stay tuned as the article develps.

....

And so they invent it. But this could not be farther from the truth.

Though I have known this happen...

Perhaps they are feeling threatened. Most commonly, a relationship becomes a little too close for their comfort, for some unfathomable reason, and so they do or say something to destroy that which has become too dear. Sometimes they choose to believe a tale, or they tell themselves a story. It matters not how perverse this is. It is simply a fact of life in some quarters.

But the true facts are as follows: While we may indeed wind up right next door to the individual in question, we are good citizens. If said individual does not wish to see us, we shall be invisible to them. Such is our committment and ability given our resources and skills.

So one needn't make an excuse. Only must only hint at such a desire.

We only want volunteers around us. We have no need of anyone but volunteers. We ourselves are volunteers, though we're prosperous indeed.

So, everyone can relax now. We are indeed bound for England, Italy and France (not necessarily in that order) when we depart the US this time. We are indeed contemplating a European home base in France, because we spend so much time traveling back and forth there. We would indeed like to meet friends and family as we pass by on our way. But we will never be a threat to anyone who wishes to remain apart from us -- for whatever reason of their own.

For if the truth be told, we are an immense blessing to those who befriend us. We bring with us a great wealth of possiblilty. And it is our duty to be the best we can be, for ourselves and for others. We do not tolerate mediocrity among ourselves. We will tolerate almost anything else, so long as it is just, rather than inflict pain or discomfort on anyone else. We are for the most part great people. Some of the best anywhere, though we are only just people, also.

These things you can take to the bank. This is our charter and our pledge, as this is our mission.

I speak for myself and for our entire crew.... We salute you. And wish you well.

I am, win3xp of FunFlight at rest
with Julie #1, Aircraft commander.
Dateline: Teterboro, New Jersey, USA
Outbound this night over the great Atlantic

But is it all too late?

I suppose it just may be.

Old win is having a pretty bad day. And so is all the rest of the crew. For which I'm sorry.

win3xp
#2 of FunFlight at rest
Status: Preflight, Power-up: Teterboro, New Jersey.

But now it may not matter anymore.

How very sad for us all.

Win

They are flying the airplane. Have been ever since....

Take care everyone.

Julie #1 of FunFlight
Status: Airborn: Enroute.

We'll proceed on profile.

I've often wondered what other writers do to work up their creations from whole cloth. For me, it's often that I see something that moves me somehow. And mostly, I suppose, that others write about what the see and feel as well. And so they do much the same as I do. They divine an idea from the ether or from their particular muse, then they fill in the blanks as they go along. Draft after draft things take shape until finally and with blinding suddenness, it a complete thing. Or complete enough. And so then they publish it.

The fine thing about blogging is that you can continue to tweak the text and develop the ideas long after the publication is done; that others may watch as any given piece is transformed with each sequential draft. That you can watch it all happen, as I do, is an amusing side effect of the giant white board out in cyberspace.

I hope you are all amused by this process. For surely it can be full of strife and frustration at times.

Hope you all have a fine day. I'll see you all later, in blogland.

win

Today I regularly read in French. It is an amazement to me. An accomplishment attributable to only three things: Practice. Repetition. Necessity.

Yes. Of course, I still run the tranlators routinely to check on the accuracy of my perception/comprehension. But it has become relatively good. If nothing else, I get the drift of it, at least. If I don't concentrate to hard on it. If I just let it wash over me.

---the point of an art song or a piece of poetry written by a native speaker *for* a native speaker, is easily lost or obscured when translated into another language. So it is in other languages, also. But I do love words, even when they lead me a merry chase. ---

If you had asked me a few months ago if I thought any of this was even possible, I would have said no. It is NOT possible to have learned so much so quickly. But necessity is indeed the mother of invention.

And while I still can't write en Francais without the aid of the translators; can't think in that beutifully elegant language, I can read it with relative comfort. As for having a conversation in French, well, that might be problematic.

Is that not remarkable for someone who had only enough French to translate art songs -- a word or a phrase at a time. Whose French colleagues all speak to him in English?

Ah, well. It is fortunate that she speaks English very well and can write it too. While she looks for the occasional word, we understand one another very well. I suppose I'd be up the proverbial creek without a paddle if she could not. But fortunately, she can and she does.

I'm a lucky man today. And I hope it goes well with all of you, also. I've had some great moments -- all more than I could have asked for in the first place, since I didn't even know, starting out, what to ask for....

Catch you all on the flip-flop.

So long for now,

win

Today I was given a gift that was both addressed to me and made available for me. And it is priceless.

A gift of music and photos that only makes my experience here come more vividly to life, and all the more so now.... It is unique to her and so more personal than even a signature might be...and so much more beautiful by far.

And to those who made such a gift possible.... I offer my humble thanks as well. For were it not for your gifts...well, there would be no such thing at all.

I wonder if any of you would mind my downloading them and burning them to CD to preserve them.... Yes. They are priceless. And while I'll never forget them, hard drives do fail from time to time. And I don't want to risk losing this particular gift. For it cannot be replaced.

Well, she can tell me later, when she comes back....

You have my best, K. It can scarcely get better than this, save for one other gift that might very well take place in March. I guess I could call a birthday gift as it will no doubt occur during that time. And I do so look forward to it. But until then, there is now. And I'll take it. One small moment at a time. One kiss. One embrace. One single moment.

To have been so astoundingly fortunate is beyond all belief. But it is one true thing. A treasure.

Store ye not up treasures on earth. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

Well, sorry kids. My treasure is here and now. I could not have asked for better. And I thank you all very much for delivering it safely into my keeping. So that I might now stand watch over it, in waking and in sleeping....

My best to you all.

Win

I believe it was from safriz that I first heard the term. I just didn't know what it meant then.

Not until now anyway.

But I do understand now just how useful this blog-chatting can be. For it is not always possilbe to hook up with friends and loved ones in real-time with out some serious interruptions, at the very least.

And so we blog to preserve our special connections with one another. Connections that form and grow strong for our ability to express them here.

Oh, there is a place for real-time chats, to be sure. I've had a few that were both memorable and worth preserving. As it is, however, I'll take blog chatting over silence any day, and be very thankful to have it, too.

Best to everyone,

Win

For there are too few answers.

And the why of it is so often inexplicable anyway.

One bows instead and accepts of it gladly, and with good grace.

And then one learns instead to ask who, what, where and when. For therein lies the hope of answers, if only now and then.

Good morning everyone,

Best,

win

Back now.

E

I miss you, K.

You are much in my thoughts.

I hope this post finds you well. I've sent you a couple of messages earlier.

Though it seems a very long time to wait, I shall bear it gladly.

Kisses,

E.

win

But I am a musician. And I know differently.

There is nothing greater at the end of a magnificently played work than silence. But one is fortunate to hear it once or twice a year.

Oh, God....

I'm not suicidal.
Sheesh.

But I send you much love, to be sure.

Kiss you,

E.

More fragments from the void, though not of CJ's this time.

Any suggestions?

I broke mine more than a year ago, so....

win

To feel love for someone you've never met. Well, perhaps we've met. Virtually, anyway.

win

And I love it. So shoot me.

So there! Just ME. Just Katia.

Indeed. But there's no just about it.

Loic's work today. Or yours?

E.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFLvOuzlfdE

He did all my roles, except for 3. As does Carerras. Hmmm. Sing a few, conduct a few, play a couple. And fly away home. Poof. Gone.

http://uk.blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-5eT4R6U0d6rVD.0r2Y...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeTOZX2m8FYMiro

Norma

You can even hear the prompter in the backgroud.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BB2VP7R02lo

Dawn is at 6:13 today.

The weather is a little chilly but excellent.

FunFlight is now boarding! So all you flakes out there on the jetway, it's time to rock and roll.

5:55A when we expect to receive our final departure clearance.

All crew memebers are present and ready to execute the Departure Sequence Beta 5.

Initial Destination: Paris, France. Additional stops after Paris will be announced in flight. You all know what stops to prep for, and what are alternates need to be. We're at Max fuel so our legs are very long today.

I'm glad to see you all. We'll have power up for the networks thorughout our take-off roll today. Just be sure you're seat belts are on and snugged up tight.

I bring you Greetings from our raison d'etre, Lord Flyte, also, who will be flying as #2 tonight.

So standby for FunFlight Launch. We are in countdown mode now.

In as much as we're also live just now, I want to take this opportunity to thank you all for showing up and for flying with us. And I also want to wish DreamGirl all the best -- plus some rest, if not some very good sleep. That's right. That's you, Katia. Your name aboard FunFlight is still DreamGirl. As well it should be. Can't very well call you "just Katia," right? Right.

I am Julie #1 of FunFlight
Our Status Is Countdown: Preflight Inspection pending departure.

Julie, Out.

Guinevere's Farewell to Lancelot -- From Camelot (1960)
by Frederick Loewe (1901-1988)

"Before I Gaze at You Again"

Before I gaze at you again
I'll need a time for tears.
Before I gaze at you again
Let hours turn to years.

I have so much forgetting to do
Before I try to gaze again at you.

Stay away until you cross my mind
Barely once a day.

Till the moment I awake and find
I can smile and say:

That I shall gaze at you again
Without a blush or qualm.
My eyes will shine like new again,
My manner poised and calm.

Stay far away
My love far away
Till I forget, I gazed at you today...
Today.
Today.

- Alan Jay Lerner

--Omitted in fact --
No sign of fear,
Not even a sigh.
And so till when
We meet again, Goodbye!

It will be good to see you all again.

Lord Flyte is now content. Glory be.

Thank you DreamGirl.

Julie #1 of FunFlight
Status: Fueling: Departure Prep.

And Lord Flyte is smiling again. He must have heard from DreamGirl. That's a relief.

Report 8 and 9.

Julie #1 of Funflight
Status: Departure Prep: Fuel for French Riviera, alternates Rome, London.

Standby for updates.

And Lord Flyte is in something less than happy mood at the moment. So standby thunder storms or squalls, ship-mates.

Stand by for preliminary intinerary and other orders.

Report by phone.

Do it Now.

You know the drill.

We're up. So are you.

Hope you enjoyed the time off.

All leaves are herby cancelled.

I say again: REPORT.

Julie #1 of FunFlight
Status: Departure Prep.

Sometimes.

But wrapped in a sovreign nation's flag. That's not funny. That's just mean!

E.

Music by Frank Bridge (1879-1941)

Love went a-riding,
Love went a-riding over the earth,
On Pegasus he rode . . .

The flowers before him sprang to birth,
And the frozen rivers flowed.
Than all the youths and the maidens cried,
"Stay here with us." "King of Kings."
But Love said, "No! for the horse I ride,
For the horse I ride has wings."

Love went a-riding . . .

* by Mary Coleridge (1861-1907)

The English composer, violist, and conductor Frank Bridge (1879-1941) was the most profoundly influential mentor of the young Benjamin Britten, who honored his teacher in his "Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge." Fittingly, Love went a-riding (1914) was a recital favorite of Peter Pears and Benjamin Britten during the duo's illustrious performing career.

Oh. Indeed! -laughing-

Il était un soir...
by violoniste in Libellule, états d'âme d'une Liiiiib 47 min. ago
Chutttt... maintenant on rêve...

Liebe schwärmt auf allen Wegen;
Treue wohnt für sich allein.
Liebe kommt euch rasch entgegen;
Aufgesucht will Treue sein.

Passion throngs all lanes and byways,
Constancy hides in redoubt;
Passion tracks your footsteps always,
Constancy must be sought out.

Franz Schubert (1797-1828)