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Daffodils
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea.
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home!
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For though from out our bourn of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
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3. |
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Song
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain;
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
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Bright Star
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art —
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors —
No — yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever — or else swoon to death.
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5. |
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Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that one I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
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6. |
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Tears, idle tears
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
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The Garden of Love
I went to the Garden of Love.
And I saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And Thou shalt not. writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their
rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys and desires.
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8. |
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Neutral tones
We stood by a pond that winter day,
And the sun was white, as though chidden of God,
And a few leaves lay on the starving sod,
They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.
Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
Over tedious riddles solved years ago;
And some words played between us to and fro—
On which lost the more by our love.
The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
Alive enough to have strength to die;
And a grin of bitterness swept thereby
Like an ominous bird a-wing….
Since then, keen lessons that love deceives,
And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me
Your face, and the God-curst sun, and a tree,
And a pond edged with grayish leaves.
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Nurse's Song (Innocence)
When the voices of children are heard on the green
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast
And everything else is still.
``Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down
And the dews of night arise;
Come, come, leave off play, and let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies.''
``No, no, let us play, for it is yet day
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides, in the sky the little birds fly
And the hills are all cover'd with sheep.''
``Well, well, go & play till the light fades away
And then go home to bed.''
The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh'd
And all the hills echoed.
NURSE’S Song (Experience)
When the voices of children are heard on the green
And whisp'rings are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Your spring & your day are wasted in play,
And your winter and night in disguise.
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William Wordsworth, nella poesia ‘Daffodils’, la definisce ‘inward eye’, occhio interiore. È quella particolare sensibilità che accomuna gli artisti, la capacità di interiorizzare e dare nuovi significati alla natura, alle sensazioni e ai sentimenti. A volte basta un’immagine, un profumo oppure uno sguardo per scatenare emozioni. Così, ciò che si nasconde nel profondo dell’animo umano si trasforma in parole e le parole, in musica. Quella di Gianluca Plomitallo, ovvero The Huge. Proprio come i narcisi di Wordsworth, che si piegano sotto il vento primaverile, in una danza leggera e spumeggiante, i versi dei più grandi poeti inglesi dell’800 e del 900 si animano e danzano, resi vivi dalla musica e dalla voce di The Huge. Sulle note dell’artista, quindi, prende il via un viaggio alla scoperta della poesia inglese e dell’animo umano. A emergere, sono i sentimenti più forti, come l’amore cinico di Neutral Tones - Thomas Hardy -, quello puro di Bright star - John Keats - oppure la malinconia legata all’infanzia perduta di The Garden of Love - William Blake -. Da questo viaggio, iniziato da The Huge nel 1995, è nato il suo nuovo album, ‘The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing’, in uscita il 2 Febbraio 2014. Otto poesie musicate e cantate che diventano canzoni, da ascoltare soprattutto con il cuore. (Alessandra Mecca)
Poetry turns into music with the new album by The Huge, 'The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing', released February 2, 2014.
In his poem ' Daffodils ', William Wordsworth calls it the 'inward eye'. It is that special feeling that unites artists, the ability to interiorise and give new meanings to nature, emotions and feelings. Sometimes, just an image, a smell or a glance are sufficient to unleash emotions. Hence, what is hidden in the depths of the human soul is transformed into words and words into music. That music by Gianluca Plomitallo, that is The Huge. Just like Wordsworth's daffodils, which bend under the wind of spring, in a light and bubbly dance, the verses by the greatest English poets of the 800 and 900 come to life and dance, brought to life by The Huge’s music and voice.
On the notes of the artist, then, a journey of discovery of English poetry and human soul starts off. It is the strongest feelings that stand out, like the cynical love in “Neutral Tones” - Thomas Hardy - the pure one in “Bright Star” - John Keats - or the melancholy recalling lost childhood in “The Garden of Love” - William Blake - . From this trip, taken up in 1995 by The Huge, his new album was born, ' The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing' , released February 2, 2014 . Eight poems set to music and sung that become songs, to be listened especially with your heart.
(Translated by Fabio Giobbe)
released February 2, 2014
All songs written, performed, arranged, produced and mastered by Gianluca The huge Plomitallo for ZOMAPOP
Front Cover by Gianluca The Huge Plomitallo
Songs written 1994-2014
Poems by:
1 - William Wordsworth
2,6 - Alfred, Lord Tennyson
3,5 - Christina G. Rossetti
4 - John Keats
7 - William Blake
8 - Thomas Hardy
Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.
