Ideal

Just in case no one knew this fact, I will repeat and emphasise that I really like poetry! The rhyme and rhythm the poets use deeply resonates with me. This was understood by ancient troubadours travelling from village to village to tell their stories or bring news. They used rhyme and rhythm to help them recall what they wanted to tell. Also rhyming poetry has a "beat" similar to that of the human heart, hence the "resonating" effect on peoples everywhere. 

So when music and poetry combine (most song lyrics are poetic) there is an emotional connect. At least I find it so. Now some years ago I heard the songs composed by Francesco Paolo Tosti (1846 – 1916). An Italian by birth his songs became so popular in Victorian England that he became a British citizen in 1906. He was actually knighted by King Edward VII in 1908 for his services to the arts. Eventually he returned to Italy in 1913 and died in Rome in 1916 (my reference is Wikipedia).

As I said, when music and poetry combine I find that, without being too melodramatic, I am "transported" to another dimension. And this simple and gentle Tosti song, Ideale, with the lyrics shown below, certainly transports me back to times in my life with Magucha. (It has been recorded by many artists but I prefer the old, 1951 version, with piano accompaniment, sung by Beniamino Gigli. It’s on YouTube) 

Remember that this is a translation and the original Italian poetic form has not translated well I don’t believe. I still love the sentiment expressed.

Ideale  (Ideal) – a translation from the original Italian.

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 your radiance.

 

Absorbed by you, I dreamed a long time

of the sound of your voice,

and the 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.

 

Lyric: by Carmelo Erico. Music: by Francesco Paolo Tosti in 1882.

 

You see, again, without being too melodramatic, Magucha was my "Ideal".

We never seem to learn!

I hadn’t heard this old “protest” song for many years and it brought back memories from my university days. I looked up the lyrics and they struck home. Bob Dylan wrote the lyrics and the song in 1962 at the height of the “Cold War” between the USA and the (then) Soviet Union; the Vietnam War was already seven years old, with no end in sight and the Civil Rights movement in the USA was still in progress and far from resolution (and it’s still going!).

Now I ask the question, “What have we learned since it was first sung about 56 years ago?” 

My answer? Nothing much.

Many people of colour are still not recognised as “people”; in spite of the United Nations best efforts wars are still being fought; human induced climate change is still not widely accepted; many millions of people still aren’t free; many people (in positions of leadership) still pretend they don’t see; too many people are incarcerated unnecessarily; too many people are still dying from mistreatment and abuse. 

Read on.

Blowin' in the Wind

Bob Dylan(1962)

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

Yes, 'n' how many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn't see?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

Yes, 'n' how many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky?

Yes ‘n’ how many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry?

Yes, ‘n’ how many deaths will it take ‘til he knows

That too many people have died?

The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Uncompromised Love.

Love has always been the driving force of life. And by “love” I do not just mean passion though that obviously plays a part. I am talking about the love between friends; between husband and wife (or the equivalent partners) that develops after many years of life together; between parents and their children and love for Humanity. That kind of love – which IS uncompromised.

The power of love is recognized in poetry, in song, in novels and literature, in art and in opera - it is the power that drives us all. This cannot be just “chemicals in the brain” or hormonal juices, there is much more to it than that!

Now I loved my wife in a manner that I find difficult to portray in a meaningful way to others. Tenderness – yes; closeness – yes; deep understanding – yes; ability to communicate without necessarily speaking – yes; trust – yes; talking about problems – yes; sharing – yes; respect – yes, all this and more that I do not have the words to explain.

While neither of us was in anyway saintly, there was a fulfillment that seemed to make the two of us stronger in our own way. Magucha was an amazingly strong person, not physically strong (she was very small in stature) but emotionally and mentally she was spring steel. Her resilience, which defied all that the world could throw at her, astonished everyone with whom she came in contact.

This strength – which I, for one, found quite inspiring – is epitomized by the following poem by Alfred Noyes, and this is for her:

The Anvil

Stand like a beaten anvil, when thy dream

            Is laid upon thee, golden from the fire.

Flinch not, though heavily through that furnace-gleam

            The black forge-hammers fall on thy desire.

Demoniac giants round thee seem to loom.

‘Tis but the world-smiths heaving to and fro.

Stand like a beaten anvil. Take the doom 

            Their ponderous weapons deal thee, blow on blow.

Needful to truth as dew-fall to the flower

            Is this wild wrath and this implacable scorn.

For every pang, new beauty, and new power,

            Burning blood-red shall on thy heart be born.

Stand like a beaten anvil. Let earth’s wrong

Beat on that iron and ring back in song.

Is it the singer or the song?

Here is a curious thought and a whimsical reflection on singing.

With singing and sentient beings - is it the singer or the song? Does a bird suddenly take thought and decide to sing or does the song ‘sing’ the bird? Does a happy little child, singing as it plays know what it sings or is it happy and the ‘song’ just arises from within?

Is the song always there and just needs an outlet? Is the ‘song’ happiness and contentment; is the ‘song’ part of the psyche of all sentient beings – birds, whales and other aquatic mammals, some forest dwelling mammals and human beings (I am sure there are other sentient beings which ‘sing’ in one form or another that I have missed – frogs and crickets maybe?). I don’t know – maybe the ‘song’ is part of the ‘collective unconscious’ that (possibly) is behind all the activities of all sentient beings.

Just a thought.