there is always time for music
particularly music
that steps out of time
and tells a story
that is older than time
~
this is music
that fills this space
on rainy mornings
snowy evenings
empty
whatever the weather
space times.
join me
and listen
with open ears
to the
voices
of these men
taking its title from the words of the sufi poet rumi,
jon hassell plays trumpet in a piece of music entitled
"last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street".
here's the full text of rumi's poem:
drunkards fall upon each other, quarrel,
become violent and make a scene.
it is the rule.
like the drunkard, and
worse than the drunkard, is the lover.
to be in love is to enter a gold mine,
but what kind of gold is found there?
the lover, king above all kings,
is not afraid to die and cares nothing for a golden crown.
just as the dervish, with a pearl concealed beneath his worn out cloak,
is not ashamed to beg from door to door.
last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street
“get up,” i told my heart, “and give the soul a glass of wine.
the moment has come to join the nightingale in the garden,
to taste sugar with the parrot of the soul.”
i have fallen, with my heart shattered
i have fallen on your sacred path and broken your bowl
i am drunk my idol, so very drunk
shield me and take my hand.
a new rule, a new law has been decreed.
break all the glasses and fall toward the glassblower.
rumi
19 comments:
wow, exquisite! Lovely gift to move into dreaming with... kind of Mingus meets Zen....
Wonderful.
And, of course, Rumi rocks....
Thank you so much for this post - I listened entranced and had to write the following as I did so:-
The call of the wild
and the white moon sailing
across star spangled time
as the music goes wailing
and expanding my mind...
haunting music and beautiful words
hello valerianna, i'm glad that you enjoyed jon's music. i have been listening to his work for thirty years now and i love the rich, exotic, sensual spaces he creates. steven
jinksy thankyou so much for the gift of poetry!!! steven
hello marja - welcome! i am so pleased that you emjoyed your visit here. steven
This is simply exquisite, Steven words and music.
I particularly love that line, last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street.
thanks.
hello elisabeth - i'm glad that you enjoyed this. i've learned a lot from the music jon has played and from the words rumi wrote. steven
Peaceful and elegant. Did we expect anything less from the Golden Fish?
hello willow - thankyou for that!!! there are moments, even days where i feel much less than peaceful and elegant but for the most part . . . . . steven
Mesmerizing ... every minute!
hello helen, many years ago i saw jon hassell play a concert and i lost all track of time. completely and utterly lost. i became a part of the pool of sound that he and his fellow musicians created. steven
steven, I couldn't hear the music uninterrupted, I am sad to say,
but Rumi is always worth reading; so I came away feeling good.
friko the wealth of knowledge and understanding being shared in rumi's writing is a feast all on its own! have a lovely evening. steven
I would retrieve the moon's clothing left on the street- i would wear it as a skirt- all rippley and round mysteriously gliding trough vague shadows, until morning sun- Then, i guess, its back to jeans and hoodie to go to the post office, bank, grocery,feed store, gas station, accountant...Love this music i could just keep this music on repeat all day long. Thank you- got to go break a bowl now...
What a beautiful song! Wow.
That old devil moon is such a hussy, isn't she? Enchantress. She has me wrapped around her little finger, that's for sure.
"Song" isn't the right word, is it?
reya - in the reviews for this music, the idea of hassell's trumpetwork being singing is referred to. so it's easily a song in that sense. there are songs without words. the lives we live are songs without words in their very best light. steven
linda sue . . . the moon's clothes left on the street - threads of soft thin light woven through alleys and across darkened streets, drawn like silk through the midnight rustle of old trees. a boy's connection to the moon is so different to that of a girl's. what a wonder! steven
Post a Comment