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Winter Song
04:52
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Time its short - the crow knows.
Cold bare trees now shiver in the silence
Pigeon chords on the dusk dark sky
To the north a dog barks in the valley
Echoing where no sun shines.
The heatings on - stay indoors - binging on TV shows
While outside birds in flight
Weaving light, weaving light
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2. |
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3. |
Midwinter
07:19
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4. |
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I saw a wren on St Stephens Day - on Boxing Day - it was outside a pub
Did you try to catch it?
No...
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A translation of a 14th century lyric learnt from the singing of John Fleagle. With voice, and distant New Years Eve fireworks, midnight 31/12/20.
Wynter wakeneth al my care
Wynter wakeneth al my care,
Nou this leves waxeth bare;
Ofte I sike ant mourne sare
When hit cometh in my thoght
Of this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht.
Nou hit is, and nou hit nys,
Also hit ner nere, ywys;
That moni mon seith, soth hit ys:
Al goth bote Godes wille:
Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle.
Al that gren me graueth grene,
Nou hit faleweth al by dene:
Jesu, help that hit be sene
Ant shild us from helle!
For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle
The lyric is from Herefordshire, written in Leominster around 1310 (according to Edward Bliss Reed) when there was a Benedictine priory in the town. It is sung here in a very rough translation from the early english (pre-Chaucer):
Winter wakens all my care
Now the trees are all bare
Sometimes I sit in sorrow and mourn
When it comes in my thoughts
Of this worlds joy, how it goes all to naught.
Now it is, and now it is not
All as though it never was
But many men say it and so it is
All goes but God's will
And we shall die, though we like it ill.
All the grain that grew so green,
Now it fallows, and is done
Jesus help that it be seen
And save us all from hell
For I know not whither I go, nor how long I here shall dwell.
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6. |
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O the snow it melts the soonest
when the winds begin to sing
and the corn it ripens fastest
when the frosts are setting in
and when my true love tells me that
my face he’ll soon forget,
before we part, I’ll tell to him
he’ll be sure to follow it yet.
O the snow it melts the soonest
when the wind begins to sing
and the swallow skims without
a thought as long as it is spring,
but when spring goes, and winter blows
my love and you’ll be fain,
for all your pride, to follow me,
were it cross the stormy main.
O the snow it melts the soonest
when the wind begins to sing
and the bee that flew when summer shone
in winter will not sing,
and all the flowers in all the land
so brightly though they be,
the snow it melts the soonest
when my true love loves me.
So never tell me farewell here
no farewell I’ll receive,
and you can meet me at the stile,
and kiss and take your leave,
and I’ll stay here till the woodcock crows,
the martin takes the wing,
for the snow it melts the soonest,
when the wind begins to sing.
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Alula Down Hereford, UK
mark waters & kate gathercole
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