1. |
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Ce qui rend les amitiés
indissolubles et double
leur charme est un sentiment
qui manque à l’amour, la certitude.
(Translation)
What makes friendships
unbreakable and double
their charm is a feeling
that love lacks, that of certainty.
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2. |
The Night Fires
01:24
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Stoke your fires
Ever-gently on your own.
The flames are undulating
Over your waxen glow.
And I’ll move away
As the element transforms you…
And I bid adieu, as you burn,
To dance under the moon.
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3. |
Taibhsí (Ghosts)
01:07
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Tá mé i ngra leat,
ach ta go leor taibhsí
ina gcónaí ionat,
agus tá ciapadh orm cheana féin.
(Translation)
I’m in love with you,
But there are (so) many ghosts
Living inside you,
And I am haunted already.
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4. |
Phonemena II
01:18
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5. |
The Hanged Man
01:45
|
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intuition is a curse
to the intelligent.
we see everything,
every angle, every trial,
all that’s concealed,
while blood rushes to our brains.
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6. |
Dawn
00:50
|
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|
Thou enemy of love, how slow you creep
Across the sky when she decides to sleep
With someone else.
And oh, how fast you fly
When she is in my arms till night goes by.
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7. |
Il y a (There Are)
01:00
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Il y a des silences qui en desent long
comme il y a des paroles qui ne signifient rien.
(Translation)
There are silences that mean so much
as there are words that mean nothing.
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8. |
Chaennuna (Chant)
02:52
|
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9. |
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Amharcann sí ó fhuinneog ar an triú hurlár,
gan a fhios aici cathain a bheidh sí in ann imeacht.
Tagann daoine isteach agus téann daoine amach,
ar feadh blianta agus blianta agus blianta.
(Translation)
She looks from a window on the third floor,
Not knowing when she will be able to leave.
People come in and people go out
For years and years and years.
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10. |
Death in the Afternoon
01:22
|
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|
one jigger of absinthe
add iced champagne
til the proper opalescent milkiness is achieved
florence fennel, wormwood, anise
blessed trinity
|
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11. |
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|
Máire, A Mháire,
fuair siad ciarsúr fuilteach
taobh thar de bhalla do
sheomra leapa.
(Translation)
Mary, O Mary,
They found a bloody handkerchief
Behind the wall
Of your bedroom
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12. |
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Lá dá rabhas sa choill úd thall,
Chonaic a spéirbhean claonrosc mall,
Slat ‘na láimh ‘sí cumhra seang,
Ó sí rún mo chléibh bhí ann.
D’inseoinn dreach mo leannáin duit,
Dhá ghrua dhearg’ chomh dearg le fuil,
Béal gan locht ag aithris scéil,
Ó sí rún mo chléibh bhí ann.
Fol í ó hó ró, fol í ó,
Hú il ó hó ró, hú il ó,
Fol il é li hú il ó ró,
(Translation)
When I was over in the woods one day,
I saw and gazed at a beautiful woman,
A branch in her hand, she was sweetly scented and slim,
Oh she was my dear love.
I would like to describe my love to you,
Two red cheeks as red as blood,
A perfect mouth that could not tell a lie,
Oh she was my dear love.
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13. |
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If we don’t accept loneliness,
Then capitalism wins hands down.
Because capitalism is all about trying to convince people
That you can distract yourself,
That you can make it better.
And it ain’t true.
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14. |
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ya mnahn’ ebumna n’ghft
naflwgah’n, r’luh s’uhnor.
‘bthnk stell’bsna ee ya kadishtu.
(Translation)
I am a worthless pit of darkness
Who cannot control him, an aspect of a secret pact.
His body prays for answers only I understand.
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15. |
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ya goka gotha.
ya ch’nglui shugg
ng ep uln Cthulhu shagg.
(Translation)
I will grant his wish.
I will cross the threshold to the realm of darkness
and then summon Cthulhu from the realm of dreams.
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16. |
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y’ orr’e throd ng ahy’lloig,
ng wgah’n phlegeth-agl,
ftaghu fm’latgh,
ng c’sgn’wahl syha’h.
(Translation)
My soul and my mind will tremble,
And residing in that place of knowledge,
His skin will burn,
And we will share space in eternity.
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17. |
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Ar maidin indé roimh ghréin go moch,
Do dhearcas an bhé ba néimhe cruth:
Bhi sneachta ‘gus caor A’ caismirt ’n-a sgéimh,
‘Sa seangachorp séimh mar ghéis ar sruth
‘Sa chuisle mo chroi, créad in ghruaim sin ort?
Ba bhinne guth caomh a béil le sult
Ná Orpheus do léig go faon no tuirc:
Bhi a reamhar-rosg réidh
Mar chriostal na mbraon
Ar sheamair ghlais fhéir roimh ghréin go moch-
‘Sa chuisle mo chroi, créad in ghruaim sin ort?
(Translation)
Before the sun rose yesterday morning,
I met a fair maiden down the lawn.
The berry and snow gave her cheeks a glow,
And her bosom was fair as the sailing swan.
Then, pulse of my heart, what gloom is thine?
Her beautiful voice more hearts hath won
Than had Orpheus’ lyre of old.
Her ripe blue eyes were dewy crystals
On the grass of the lawn before the sun.
And, pulse of my heart, what gloom is thine?
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Rosśa Crean Chicago, Illinois
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