Tonight, Rowan graduates from High School. We had a gathering of friends for him yesterday, and it went nicely. Sweet people, and a wonderful time. My thanks and love go out to you all.
It has been a long haul for the lad, but he came out of it well, finishing on the honor roll and with premiering a one act play this past week that has never been performed in the US… (Picnic on a Battlefield – originally from Spain)
We have been blessed with these last 4 years. It has gone quickly but there is a sweetness to it all.
Life goes swiftly, and so much has occurred… this one is for Rowan, and all that he brings into the world by his presence.
Bright Blessings,
Gwyllm
On The Menu:
Rachid Taha – Bara Bara
The Poems of Paul Éluard
Rachid Taha – Rock El Casbah
Rachid Taha – Bara Bara
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The Poems of Paul Éluard 
She is standing on my lids
And her hair is in my hair
She has the colour of my eye
She has the body of my hand
In my shade she is engulfed
As a stone against the sky
She will never close her eyes
And she does not let me sleep
And her dreams in the bright day
Make the suns evaporate
And me laugh cry and laugh
Speak when I have nothing to say
—
To Live
We both have our hands to give
Take mine I shall lead you afar
I have lived several times my face has changed
With every threshold I have crossed and every hand clasped Familial springtime was reborn
Keeping for itself and for me its perishable snow
Death and the betrothed
The future with five fingers clenched and letting go
My age always gave me
New reasons for living through others
For having the blood of man other’s heart in mine
Oh the lucid fellow I was and that I am
Before the pallor of frail blind girls
Lovelier than the delicate worn moon so fair
By the reflection of life’s ways
A trail of moss and trees
Of mist and morning dew
Of the young body which does not rise alone
To its place on earth
Wind cold and rain cradle it
Summer makes a man of it
Presences is my virtue in each visible hand
Only death is solitude
From delight to fury from fury to clarity
I make myself whole through all beings
Through all weather on the earth and in the clouds
Through the passing seasons I am young
And strong for having lived
I am young my blood rises over my ruins
We have our hands to entwine Nothing can ever seduce better
Tahn our bonding to each other a forest
Returning earth to sky and the sky to night
To the night which prepares an unending day.
—
Hunted
A few grains of dust more or less
On ancient shoulders
Locks of weakness on weary foreheads
This theatre of honey and faded roses
Where incalculable flies
Reply to the black signs that misery makes to them
Despairing girders of a bridge
Thrown across space
Thrown across every street and every house
Heavy wandering madnesses
That we shall end by knowing by heart
Mechanical appetites and uncontrolled dances
That lead to the regret of hatred
Nostalgia of justice
—
Head Against The Walls
There were only a few of them
In all the earth
Each one thought he was alone
They sang, they were right
To sing
But they sang the way you sack a city
The way you kill yourself.
Frayed moist night
Shall we endure you
Longer
Shall we not shake
Your cloacal evidence
We shall not wait for a morning
Made to measure
We wanted to see in other people’s eyes
Their nights of love exhausted
They dream only of dying
Their lovely flesh forgotten
Bees caught in their honey
They are ignorant of life
And we suffer everywhere
Red roofs dissolve under the tongue
Dog days in the full beds
Come, empty your sacks of fresh blood
There is still a shadow here
A shred of imbecile there
In the wind their masks, their cast-offs
In lead their traps, their chains
And their prudent blind-men’s gestures
There is fire under rocks
If you put out the fire
Be careful we have
Despite the night it breeds
More strength than the belly
Of your wives and sisters
And we will reproduce
Without them but by ax strokes
In your prisons
Torrents of stone labors of foam
Where eyes float without rancor
Just eyes without hope
That know you
And that you should have put out
Rather than ignore
With a safety pin quicker than your gibbets
We shall take our booty where we want it to be
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Rachid Taha – Rock El Casbah
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