27/02/2010
25/02/2010
Transports en commun : Si j'avais des ailes
Jack Butler Yeats - Singing "Oh had I the Wings of a Swallow", 1925Via Bert Christensen
Jack Butler Yeats, né en 1871, est le frère du poète. C'est aussi le grand peintre irlandais du début du XXème siècle. En 1925, au moment même où son style évolue vers l'expressionnisme, il peint cette jeune fille vue dans un train qui traversait au soleil couchant le comté de Kildare. Elle faisait la manche de wagon en wagon en chantant If I had the wings of a swallow - Si j'avais les ailes de l'hirondelle, une chanson de Richard W. Pasco dont le vrai titre est Little Town In The Old County Down.
John McCormack, le grand ténor irlandais de l'époque, chante Little Town In The Old County Down
Mis en ligne par patriot4913
If I had the wings of a swallow,
I would travel far over the sea;
And a rocky old road I would follow,
To a spot that is heaven to me.
When the sun goes to rest way down in the west,
Then I'll build such a nest in the place I love best.
In the dear little town in the old County Down,
It will linger way down in my heart;
Though it never was grand it is my fairyland,
Just a wonderful world set apart.
Oh, my Ireland of dreams you are with me it seems,
And I care not for fame or renown;
Like the black sheep of old I'll come back to the fold,
Little town in the old County Down.
In the evening when shadows are falling,
'Round the old door without any key;
There's a voice in my dreams ever calling,
Ever watching and praying for me.
There is someone I bless with true tenderness,
And her lips I'll caress when I bring happiness.
To that dear little town in the old County Down,
It will linger way down in my heart;
Though it never was grand it was my fairyland,
Just a wonderful world set apart.
Oh, my Ireland of dreams you are with me it seems,
And I care not for fame or renown;
Like the black sheep of old I'll come back to the fold,
Little town in the old County Down.
I would travel far over the sea;
And a rocky old road I would follow,
To a spot that is heaven to me.
When the sun goes to rest way down in the west,
Then I'll build such a nest in the place I love best.
In the dear little town in the old County Down,
It will linger way down in my heart;
Though it never was grand it is my fairyland,
Just a wonderful world set apart.
Oh, my Ireland of dreams you are with me it seems,
And I care not for fame or renown;
Like the black sheep of old I'll come back to the fold,
Little town in the old County Down.
In the evening when shadows are falling,
'Round the old door without any key;
There's a voice in my dreams ever calling,
Ever watching and praying for me.
There is someone I bless with true tenderness,
And her lips I'll caress when I bring happiness.
To that dear little town in the old County Down,
It will linger way down in my heart;
Though it never was grand it was my fairyland,
Just a wonderful world set apart.
Oh, my Ireland of dreams you are with me it seems,
And I care not for fame or renown;
Like the black sheep of old I'll come back to the fold,
Little town in the old County Down.
24/02/2010
23/02/2010
19/02/2010
17/02/2010
16/02/2010
14/02/2010
The cat's meow : Chien, mon chat
I'm walkin' all around the town
Singin' all the people down
Talkin' around, talkin' around
Me and my cat named Dog
Are walkin' high against the fog
Singin' the sun
Singin' the sun
Happy, sad and crazy wonder
Chokin' up my mind
With perpetual dreamin'
Driftin' up and down the street
Searchin' for the sound of people
Swingin' their feet, swingin' their feet
Dog is a good old cat
People what you think of that
That's where I'm at, that's where I'm at
Happy, sad and crazy wonder
Chokin' up my mind
With perpetual dreamin'
Norma Tanega, Filipina née en 1939 à Vallejo, Californie, artiste plasticienne et guitariste autodidacte, s'installe au début des années 60 à New-York où elle fait partie du petit cercle des folksingers comme Tom Paxton et Bob Dylan. Walkin' fut son seul vrai succès. Voir son site.
13/02/2010
12/02/2010
Transports en commun : Commuters
Jack Delano - Commuters, who have just come off the train, waiting for the bus to go home, Lowell, Mass. (1941 Farm Security Administration)Library of Congress Prints & Photographs Division, FSA-OWI Collection
11/02/2010
Le bar du coin : Descente de police
Gustave Doré - Taverne à Whitechapel, 1869"Stick close together, gentlemen; this is a very rough part," our careful guides tell us - some walking before, others behind - the local superintendent or the Scotland Yard sergeant accosting each policeman on his beat, and now and then collecting two or three, and planting them at strategical points or openings, that cover our advance, and keep the country open behind us.
We plunge into a maze of courts and narrow streets of low houses --nearly all the doors of which are open, showing kitchen fires blazing far in the interior, and strange figures moving about. Whistles, shouts, oaths, growls, and the brazen laughter of tipsy women; sullen "goodnights" to the police escort; frequent recognition of notorious rogues by the superintendent and his men; black pools of water under our feet only a ribbon of violet-gray sky overhead! We come to a halt at a low black door. The superintendent's knock means immediate opening. An old man in curduroy breeches and gray stockings, unbuttoned waistcoat, and dirty shirt sleeves, with low muffin cap over his eyes, is about to growl, when the "Good-night, Ben," of the force, brings him to attention and respect at once.
We advance into a low, long, dark room parted into boxes, in which are packed the most rascally company any great city could show. They stare, leer, dig each other in the ribs, fold their black hands over the cards, and grunt and growl sotto voce
William Blanchard Jerrold, ill. Gustave Doré - London, a pilgrimage, 1872, chap. XVIII, Whitechapel and thereabouts.
09/02/2010
Là-haut, dans le grand champ de seigle au bord de cette saleté de falaise
Bon, à un moment elle est allée aux toilettes; celles des dames c'est là-bas au diable
Robert Burns - Comin' thro' the rye - Julian Jamison, The Real McKenzies
Mis en ligne par FatAndy133
et D.B. en a profité pour me demander ce que je pensais de tous ces trucs que je viens de vous raconter.
Je savais vraiment pas quoi dire. La vérité c'est que je ne sais pas quoi en penser.
Comin' thro' the rye - Ava Gardner, Grace Kelly, Clark Gable,
dans Mogambo, dir. John Ford, 1953
Mis en ligne par eunsojo
Je regrette d'en avoir tellement parlé. Les gens dont j'ai parlé, ça fait comme s'ils me manquaient à présent, c'est tout ce que je sais.
Même le gars Stradlater par exemple, et Ackley.
Et même, je crois bien, ce foutu Maurice.
C'est drôle. Faut jamais rien raconter à personne.
Si on le fait, tout le monde se met à vous manquer.
Jerome David Salinger, 1/1/1919 - 27/1/2010 - (les dix dernières lignes de) The catcher in the rye, 1951 - L'attrape-coeurs, traduction Annie Saumont.
08/02/2010
06/02/2010
Les occupations solitaires : Le patinage
Henry Raeburn - The Reverend Robert Walker Skating on Duddingston Loch, dit The skating minister, ca 1790L'attribution à Raeburn est contestée. L'auteur pourrait être Danloux.
05/02/2010
04/02/2010
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