Song

I have been thinking of Dil and Prue quite a lot these last days, and I don't know how, the thoughts turned into a song. So here is it, a clumsy song, but, hey, a merlin is no composer. Imagine a piano background sparkled with soft drums, and a woman's soft voice too. The rythm is quite syncopated. It's in la, minor mode.

Mud

Once, when I was aliiive, i could still walk and laugh once. When eyes, mine, were o...pen, i swear i could see the sky...the sky!
Oh listen oh to me...i swear it was blue always...twas blue!

(chorus -forte) We are but mud shaped into maaan, our thoughts are just like passing biiirds. What can we do but watch things flooow?
Oh yes you know that i love youuu, but like all things in this weird world, like everything it cannot laast.
Do not let hardships let you dooown, with mere mud so much can be dooone. Please let me wipe your cheerless teeears!

Not so lo-ong ago...i could still sleep and rest once. In dre-am, seen, i haaave! A city of mud, of smile, of hope! The children, they, were running. Running down the streets, growing, laughing!

(chorus) We are but mud shaped into maaan, our thoughts are just like passing birds.What can we do but watch things flow?
Do not cry because time goes by! I know you wish to say good bye, do not say oh don't say these words!
Do not let hardships let you down, with mere mud so much can be done. Please let me wipe your cheerless tears!

Yes even God knows it, that we are mud which cries...hurts. But stiiill, here, we aaare, despite loneliness despair...eeevil. Open our, eyes, our hearts...because you know i love you love you!

(chorus) Oh humans you my sweet fellows! I bid you join your mud in life. In love our city shall arrise!
Until our mud is joined forever, on Earth our hearts are butterflies, wild butterflies which flutter flutter!

Flutter. Flutter. Flutter...(with a fading voice...) Flutter...

(softer) We are but mud shaped into man, our thoughts are just like passing birds, what can we do but watch things flow?
You well know all dreams will come true, if we but join our mud in life, do no let hardships let you down!
We are but mud shaped into man, with mere mud so much can be done...In love our city shall arrise!

http://www.ourmedia.org/node/166080 Here's a midi file of the first couplet and a bit of chorus. As it's played by a computer, with piano sound only it's not magnificent. But well it gives an idea.

Feriae Latinae, Excerptum I

Aestas venit, cum sole flavo et puerorum cachinnis, voluptate devorate calidarum arenularum.
Discipuli crepidulas disjecerunt, magistro in bibliotheca condito. Velut gaviae cucurrerunt ad litus, capilli et cor insanum in aquilone.
Clamabant, corrisebant : pulchrum erat mare, et spuma similis erat sacchari, solis enim lux edebatur sicut mel.
Carabi, qui ad litus habitabant, pueros ludentes audiverunt, et caraborum dux est eis iratus : nam carabi pueruli, relicti caraborum scholam postquam magister in ostrea condiderunt, inter humanorum puerorum digitos nunc luserunt. Dux libellos cepit clamavitque :
" Carabi! Statim ad me venite ! Malus est, cum incognitis gigantibus ludere."
Sed carabi non venerunt.
Caraborum dux omnium ab imo suspiravit, simul ac humanus magister in bibliotheca sua.
Existimaverunt aestatis solem morbidissimum esse.

Latin Holidays, except 1:
Summer came, with a yellow sun, the laughter of children, the devoured pleasure of hot sand.
Schoolboys threw their sandals here and there, after they had shut their professor in the library. Like seagulls they ran to the beach, their hair and hearts wild in the northern wind.
The shouted, they ran : the sea was beautiful, and the froth looked like sugar. In fact, the sunlight could be eaten like honey.
The crabs who lived on the beach heard the children play, and the chief crab became angry, because crab younglings had left school and shut their professor in an oyster, and were now playing between the children's toes. The chief took books and shouted :
" Crabs! Come here right now! It's bad to play with unknown giants."
But the crabs didn't come.
The chief of all crabs sighed deeply, exactly in unisson with the human professor in his library.
They thought that the summer sun was quite unwholesome.

[let's hope there aren't too many grammar mistakes now...]

Reaching...Endlessly...

I won't sing passions and voids, because a voice I have not.

My wings are not torn, because wings I never had.

Neither bird nor truly statue...will you let your dough waste away under the mechanical sun?

The wriggling pigeons of the heart alter their feathers like a moonless tide, sometimes are tinged with amber or red joy, from pale fluorine to the softness of a dream.
But the face stands unchanged : in the streets, on a bench or a car, everywhere eyes see the Being's face - the undulating being whose pigeon is veiled.
Haze wanders at the tips of his fingers ; and despite all in the streets, on the bench or a car he is recognized.
"Oh tell me stranger, why do you see me ? But friend, how can you know that I am as you percieve?
Yes you, tell yes why do you see me?"

Oh puppets dressed in opaque, velvety gowns, your head framed by veils like those of brides...this grid of gauze, light halo...
Puppets, humans my fellows, will I have to marry you to touch your heart and unveil this mist between us?