Green Book Of Meditations Volume 6 The Books of Songs - Student ...

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Emmon’s Selections By Emmon Bodfish, 1990s From the thick grass On the Mountain I see this will be a Rich year. The last two Were poor years. And no amount of worry Or effort of the will Will make any difference. I choose to pick and eat This wild lettuce And not that one. How random it is: (Death) Without any connection To the moral character Of either herb. NO BLAME, then when Nature gathers me. The Mountain It is always cold On the Mountain, Not just this year. Jagged scarps, forever fogged in. Ferns in the dark gorges Steep ravines Unimaginably rugged... I am afraid, If I settle long On Messeur Mountain, I would not go back. [will] -By Emmon Bodfish, 1980s OCTOBER A thousand hills covered With bleached grasses, Ten thousand tangled paths, But no sign of who made them. Every day, just this, And sometimes the sound of wind blowing Against the pane 366 To My Teacher Ryokan from "Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf" translated by John Stevens An old grave hidden away at the foot of a deserted hill, Overrun with rank weeds growing unchecked year after year; There is no one left to tend the tomb, And only an occasional woodcutter passes by. Once I was his pupil, a youth with shaggy hair, Learning deeply from him by the Narrow River. One morning I set off on my solitary journey And the years passed between us in silence. Now I have returned to find him at rest here; How can I honor his departed spirit? I pour a dipper of pure water over his tombstone And offer a silent prayer. The sun suddenly disappears behind the hill And I'm enveloped by the roar of the wind in the pines. I try to pull myself away but cannot; A flood of tears soaks my sleeves. The Fairy Luring Song “It is more than once a maiden of the Hebrides has been lured away from the mortal world by a fairy lover. And it is said that at the meeting of day and night, yon some wee lover-being can be seen on a Fairy-knoll, singing his luring song, to a tune that would put even the strongest of us under his spell” – Kenneth McKeller The song was first written down in the last century, but the air and Gaelic fragments are much older. Why should I sit and sigh Plough and Bracken Why should I sit and sigh On the hillside dreary. When I see the plover rising Or the curlew wheeling, Then I draw my mortal lover Back to me a’stealing. Chorus Why should I sit and sigh Plough and Bracken Plough and Bracken Why should I sit and sigh All alone and weary. When the day wears away Sad I look for her down the valley. Ilka sound, way up and down, Sets my heart a’thrilling. Chorus Oh, but there is something wanting. Oh, but I am weary. Come my blighe and bonny lass Come o’re the knoll to cheer me. Why should I sit and sigh Plough and Bracken Plough and Bracken Why should I sit and sigh Hark to me, my dearie.
A Phiuthrag’s a Phiuthair (Little Sister) In the Gaelic speaking districts of Scotland one can still find hundreds of fairy tales and not a little actual belief in the fairies, mermaids, seal women, and other supernatural beings of the Celtic imagination. The song on this record is a cry of a girl who has been spirited away by the fairies and who calls on her sister for help. A phiuthrag’s a phiuthar, Hu ru A ghaoic, a phiuthar, Hu ru Nach truagh leat fhein Ho hala leo An nochd mo chumha? Hu ru Nach truagh leat fhein An nochd mo chumha ‘S mi ‘m bothan beag Iseal cumhann? ‘S mi ‘m bothan beag Iseal cumhann, Gun lub siamain, Gun sop tughaidh. Translation: Little sister, sister My Dear sister Do you not pity Tonight my lament Do you not pity Tonight my lament And I in a little hut Low and narrow? And I in a little hut Low and narrow, Without loop of straw rope Without wisp of thatch! Clach Mhin Mheallain (Rune against Hail) The Gaelic runes, which preserve both pagan and Christian elements, healed and protected, cursed and blessed the people. Many survived in use until about a century ago. Clach mhin mheallain ‘San tobar ud thall, Clach mhin mheallain San tobar ud thall, Am buachaille bochd Ri sgath nan cnoc ‘S a bhata fo uchd ‘S a dhealg ‘na bhroit ‘S e ‘g iarraidh air Dia Turadh is grain a chur ann. Translation: Smooth hailstones In yonder well; The poor heard 367 In the Ice of the hills, With his stick under his chest, And his pin in his bosom, Praying the gods To send dry weather and sun. Furich and Diugh (Weaving Song) In this song, perhaps one discovers the ironic attitude of the weaver towards his painstaking work or, hears the echoes of some lost incantation. Wait today until tomorrow Until I spin you a skirt The loom is in Patrick’s wood; The flax has been sown and has not grown. The milkmaid is unborn to mother; The Queen has the bobbin; And the wool is on the sheep in the wilderness; And the King of France has the shuttlepin. Fuirich an diugh gus am maireach Gradh air eiteagan arainn hu ru Gus an sniomh mi leine ‘n t-snath dhuit. Refrain Bun a choib air a choib Bun a ruid air an ruid Ian beag air a noid Seinnidh e lamh riut Seinn dubh seinn dubh Ohoro lunn dubh Tha bheairt-fhighe ‘n coille Phadraig; Grad air eiteagan arainn hu ru Chuireadh an lion ‘s cha do dh’fhas e. Refrain. Oidhche ‘n Fhoghar Eho hao ri, o Eho hao ri, o Nochd a’ chiad oidche ‘n Fhogar. Eho hao ri ri o hog o Eho hao ri ri a hi a bho a dhiu ru. Raoir a chuala mi’n othail. Eho hao ri o Eadar Ceann a Bhaigh ‘s an Fahdhail. Eho hao ri ri o hog o Eho hao ri ri a hi a bho a dhiu ru Cha ghuth gallain ‘s cha ghuth gadhair Guth na mna ‘s ‘m barr a meadhail. O ‘si fhein a rinn an taghadh; Ghabh I’n diughaidh’s dh’fhag I roghainn; Ghabh I’n t-oigeir seolta seaghach. Fai il eileadh hao o eileadh Coisich agus faigh dhomh ceile Fail il eileadh ho ro I
Page 1 and 2: Green Book Of Meditations Volume 6
Page 3 and 4: Nowhere Man Here Comes the Sun May
Page 5 and 6: Volume Seven 2003 2002-2003 Bardic
Page 7 and 8: Oimelc Hymn (for use during Communi
Page 9 and 10: The Falling Asleep of the Mother of
Page 11 and 12: A Celebration of Summer (A Medieval
Page 13 and 14: 4 Throughout that pulsing Pagan nig
Page 15 and 16: He is the sun god! He is the one go
Page 17 and 18: a green grassy field in Night's dar
Page 19 and 20: By Michael April 6th, 1992 The Came
Page 21 and 22: By Scott Stearns The cruelest joke
Page 23 and 24: The world's end and neutralization,
Page 25 and 26: Sounds of Silence Hello darkness my
Page 27 and 28: ED E ED E//E-A-/B7- ED E I see the
Page 29 and 30: Turn, Turn, Turn Chorus: To everyth
Page 31 and 32: What’s so amazing that keeps us s
Page 33 and 34: Apollo taught me to rhyme, Orpheus
Page 35 and 36: Watch the river flow, Watchin' the
Page 37 and 38: Rosemary Words by Robert Hunter; mu
Page 39 and 40: Watch the Field Behind the Plow By
Page 41 and 42: A mountain's in the middle, with a
Page 43 and 44: To all we touch And on... To heal t
Page 45 and 46: Hymn to the Three Brighids Verse fo
Page 47 and 48: It is on my lonely journey I were t
Page 49 and 50: Down with it! Up with it! Strike th
Page 51: “Aye me! What a mischief I have d
Page 55 and 56: Chorus Aunt Hann, she come s down w
Page 57 and 58: If the gods cannot offer the keys t
Page 59 and 60: Stillness. The silence broken only
Page 61 and 62: Where the wandering water gushes Fr
Page 63 and 64: Holly logs will burn like wax, You
Page 65 and 66: Only six and thirty years had he, a
Page 67 and 68: People of the Oak We are the people
Page 69 and 70: (pg 24 of Nuadh Bardach) Love's Col
Page 71 and 72: Indicate the song & original author
Page 73 and 74: Walking those woods once more Lovin
Page 75 and 76: I Told The Arch Druid (A.K.A. “I
Page 77 and 78: I found sacred space Now I'm a beli
Page 79 and 80: There’s many a land that is still
Page 81 and 82: ************ Bardic Salvo #8: Feb 1
Page 83 and 84: So, here we are again going our sep
Page 85 and 86: I Can’t Help Falling Asleep at Ni
Page 87 and 88: Thinkin' how YOU did me wrong And I
Page 89 and 90: ALL They've stopped such colorful e
Page 91 and 92: ... bless me with the joy that resi
Page 93 and 94: ******* Bardic Salvo #5: Dec. 26th,
Page 95 and 96: Number One is the loneliest Number
Page 97 and 98: ****** Bardic Salvo #8: Feb. 15th,
Page 99 and 100: Daylight, I must wait for the sunri
Page 101 and 102: ****** Bardic Salvo #11: April 1st,
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She sat at the edge of a pond, weep
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Volume Eight 2003 The Soul of Julia
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would forget to pay attention and j
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“Tea.” I told her. “Drink.”
Page 111 and 112:
Chapter Ten The morning they left I
Page 113 and 114:
not even see. I have been more of a
Page 115 and 116:
Chapter Eighteen Now I grow weary o
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