2024-02-26
https://mbouchard.com/FAWM/A-Tale-For-You.mp3
Ox murmurs,
Winter pours,
summer is gone :
Wind high, sun low ;
sea resounding.
Very red raying
has concealed
Cold has caught wings of birds ;
Ice-frost time:
wretched, very wretched.
Oh what a tale I have for you
* * *
Wild is the sea mount
Plowing the black ground
Stars light the morning
Amid the wind-wild sound
Fill the ship till she rides low
Set sail on the tide’s best blow
Again I watch as he will go
Again I watch as he will go
*ch
Sharp are the sea spikes
Salt stings as the beast strikes
Rising up through the ices
Avoiding the ash pikes
Round the ship on the whale-road
Flip the oar and then unload
Worthy fight for a great ode
Worthy fight for a great ode
*ch
Search for motion on the bar
Bitter winds bring scent of tar
Listen for the snap of sail
Watch beneath the winter star
Do I see scraps of a mast?
Threads of sail rolling past?
Will he return as I asked?
Will he return as I asked?
This is an #acoustic_one_take on the Sutton Hoo #lyre with #vocals, tuned to DFGACD, in the #folk and #traditional style. It’s kind of #story touched with #history since the lyrics are a blend of very old and new.
A friend visiting Iceland was sending me photos this past week, and the sea there was quite peaceful, while I was traveling myself to a place where the waves were wild. So I’ve got the sea on my mind.
I also was doing some research on early Irish writings, and came across the the eulogy of Choluim Chille, believed to be the oldest text in Irish, having been written shortly after his death in 597. It appears in “The Amra Choluim Chilli of Dallan Forgaill” by Dallan Forgaill, Saint, 6th cent. As translated by John O’Beirne Crowe in 1871. (However, the text is believed to have been more likely written in the 9th century.) There was a snippet of verse in translation that captivated me:
“A tale I have for you. Ox murmurs, Winter pours, summer is gone : Wind high, cold : sun low ; Cry is attacking, sea resounding.
Very red raying has concealed form, Voice of geese [barnacles] has become usual : Cold has caught wings of birds ; Ice-frost time : wretched, very wretched.
A tale I have for you.”
Immediately I thought of the long, flat line of black sand in Vik, Iceland and of a ship sailing away from it. As the voyage is beginning, the singer watches their lover leave in the cold of winter. I considered the dangers of the ocean, the waves and the sea monsters (which are less terrifying than some waves, or which maybe are also waves themselves, made differently manifest). The singer contemplates the season, and wonders what has become of their beloved, looking for any hint they might find to answer them.