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Bard in need of songs/jokes/spells
- Thread starter shadowthorn
- Start date
Airwolf
First Post
Here are a few more I recently heard at a recital. They were sung in German and sounded much better than the look on the paper in English.
My Love Shines
Opus 127 No. 3
Heinrich Heine
(1840)
My love shine
In its dark glory
Like a fairy tale, sand and dim
Told in a summer night.
In the enchanted garden wander
Tow lovers silent and alone,
The nightingales are singing,
There shimmers the light of the moon.
The maiden stands still like a statue,
The knight kneels at her feet.
There comes the giant of the wilderness,
The frightened maiden flees.
The knight sinks bleeding to the ground,
The giant stumbles home.
And when I shall be buried,
Then the fairy tale will come to an end.
Der Soldat
Opus 40 no. 3
Hans Christian Anderson
(July 1840)
We march to muffled sound of drums.
How far still the place, the road was long!
Oh were he at rest and everything over.
I think my heart is breaking in two.
In this world I loved none like my brother,
He, to whom they now give death
With drums and trumpets we are on parade,
And I also, I also am in command.
Now he looks up for the last time
Into the birght rays of God’s sun.
Now they tie the blindfold over his eyes.
May god give you eternal peace.
Nine have then taken aim,
Eight bullets went past their mark:
They all tremble with sorrow and pain,
But I, I shot him right through his heart!
The Hidalgo*
Opus 30 No. 3
Emanuel Geible
(August 1840)
So sweet it is to sport
With songs and hearts
And serious quarrel!
When the moon gleams,
From my room I’m drawn,
Through square and streets;
As ready for love
As for a fight.
The beauties of Seville
With fan and mantilla **
Gaze up the river;
With favor they listen
When my songs sound
To the mandolin,
And dark roses drop
From the balcony as thanks
Singing, I carry
My zither and my blade
Of Toledo steel.
At many a lattice I sing
And mock many a knight
In bold song as well,
The zither for the ladies,
The blade for the rival.
Off, then, to adventure,
The sun’s fire has gone out
Beyond the hills.
The moon hours of night
Will bring tidings of love
Will bring bloody combat***
And flowers or wounds
I’ll bear home tomorrow.
* A member of the minor nobility in Spain.
** A scarf, usually of lace.
*** The original text may translate as bloody combat or as blooming bouquets, thus the explanation of the pun in the next line.
To do these songs justice they should be sung in German. But since I don’t speak German here is the English translation. Robert Schumann put them to music.
My Love Shines
Opus 127 No. 3
Heinrich Heine
(1840)
My love shine
In its dark glory
Like a fairy tale, sand and dim
Told in a summer night.
In the enchanted garden wander
Tow lovers silent and alone,
The nightingales are singing,
There shimmers the light of the moon.
The maiden stands still like a statue,
The knight kneels at her feet.
There comes the giant of the wilderness,
The frightened maiden flees.
The knight sinks bleeding to the ground,
The giant stumbles home.
And when I shall be buried,
Then the fairy tale will come to an end.
Der Soldat
Opus 40 no. 3
Hans Christian Anderson
(July 1840)
We march to muffled sound of drums.
How far still the place, the road was long!
Oh were he at rest and everything over.
I think my heart is breaking in two.
In this world I loved none like my brother,
He, to whom they now give death
With drums and trumpets we are on parade,
And I also, I also am in command.
Now he looks up for the last time
Into the birght rays of God’s sun.
Now they tie the blindfold over his eyes.
May god give you eternal peace.
Nine have then taken aim,
Eight bullets went past their mark:
They all tremble with sorrow and pain,
But I, I shot him right through his heart!
The Hidalgo*
Opus 30 No. 3
Emanuel Geible
(August 1840)
So sweet it is to sport
With songs and hearts
And serious quarrel!
When the moon gleams,
From my room I’m drawn,
Through square and streets;
As ready for love
As for a fight.
The beauties of Seville
With fan and mantilla **
Gaze up the river;
With favor they listen
When my songs sound
To the mandolin,
And dark roses drop
From the balcony as thanks
Singing, I carry
My zither and my blade
Of Toledo steel.
At many a lattice I sing
And mock many a knight
In bold song as well,
The zither for the ladies,
The blade for the rival.
Off, then, to adventure,
The sun’s fire has gone out
Beyond the hills.
The moon hours of night
Will bring tidings of love
Will bring bloody combat***
And flowers or wounds
I’ll bear home tomorrow.
* A member of the minor nobility in Spain.
** A scarf, usually of lace.
*** The original text may translate as bloody combat or as blooming bouquets, thus the explanation of the pun in the next line.
To do these songs justice they should be sung in German. But since I don’t speak German here is the English translation. Robert Schumann put them to music.
Shadowdancer
First Post
In my signature is a link to a story hour on these boards. In that story hour, I contributed a chapter of a story that features a bard, and a song the bard performs.
MavrickWeirdo
First Post
Two Words
Fraggle Rock
Fraggle Rock
Shadowdancer
First Post
If you change or turn off your signature, it will change it or turn it off for all of your old posts as well.
Hypersmurf
Moderatarrrrh...
Some guesses :
I am, in truth, a yellow fork
From tables in the sky
By inadventant fingers dropped
The awful cutlery.
Of mansions never quite disclosed
And never quite concealed,
The apparatus of the dark
To ignorance revealed.
-- Unknown.
I can't quite make it fit, but I want to say "Lightning"...
My love, when I gaze on thy beautiful face,
Careering along, yet always in place,
The thought has often come into my mind
If I ever shall see thy glorious behind.
-- Unknown.
The Moon.
Old King Ghorn had forged his kingdom from the war-wracked
lands of Arndor not by the strength of his sword but by the
sharpness of mind. It was his cleverness that tricked the
goblins into leaving; it was trickiness that made the dragon
wing to better hunting grounds; it was his wisdom that kept
the barons from feuding amongst themselves and the horsemen
from attacking. Peace had reigned in Ghornia for 35 years,
and the king's sword became rusty as he raised his family.
Alas, the old king was on his deathbed before he could sire
any sons; his only heir was his daughter Triella. Now Good
King Ghorn knew that for peace to continue in Ghornia the
next king would have to be as clever, and so he devised the
following test for his daughter's suitors. He who could pass
it would become king; all others would die.
The test was thus:
The princess was put in the center of a huge 50 foot by 50
foot carpet. Whomsoever could touch her hand would get the
princess, and the throne besides. However, the rules of the
test were that the contestants could not walk over the
carpet, cross the plane of the carpet, or hang from
anything; nor could they use anything but their body and
wits (i.e. no magic or psionics, nor any items such as
ladders, block and tackles etc). Furthermore, only normal
humans could be applicants (i.e. no deformed guys with 50
foot arms, or shapechangers).
Ghornia now stands; it has a king whose wisdom is
unsurpassed. How did the king touch Triella's hand?
-- Unknown.
He asked Triella to walk to the edge of the carpet.
Wounded I am, and weary with fighting;
Gashed by iron, gored by the point of it,
Sick of battle-work, battered and scarred.
Many a fearful fight have I seen, when
Hope there was none, or helping the thick of it,
Ere I was down and fordone in the fray.
Offspring of hammers, hardest of battle-blades,
Smithied in forges, fell on me savagely,
Doomed to bear the brunt and shock of it,
Fierce encounter of clashing foes,
Leech cannot heal my hurts with his simples,
Salves and sores have I sought in vain.
Blade cuts dolorous, deep in the side of me,
Daily and nightly redouble my wounds.
-- Unknown.
A shield.
My beak is below, I burrow and nose
Under the ground, I go as I'm guided
By my master the farmer, old foe of the forest;
Bent and bowed, and my back he walks,
Forward pushing me over the field;
Sows on my path where I've passed along.
I come from the wood, a wagon carried me;
I was fitted with skill, I am full of wonders.
As grubbing I go, there's green on one side,
But black on the other my path is seen.
A curious prong pierces my back;
Beneath me in front, another grows down
And forward pointing is fixed to my head.
I tear and gash the ground with my teeth,
If my master steer me with skill from behind.
-- Unknown.
A plow.
A painting, I have no frame,
No gallery exhibits me;
Here today, tomorrow I move;
Yet I am as permanent as life itself.
A painting, I use no canvas,
Yet my canvas is the essence of life;
No brush was used in my creation,
But colors are mine to display.
A painting; who am I?
-- Unknown.
A rainbow.
-Hyp.
I am, in truth, a yellow fork
From tables in the sky
By inadventant fingers dropped
The awful cutlery.
Of mansions never quite disclosed
And never quite concealed,
The apparatus of the dark
To ignorance revealed.
-- Unknown.
I can't quite make it fit, but I want to say "Lightning"...
My love, when I gaze on thy beautiful face,
Careering along, yet always in place,
The thought has often come into my mind
If I ever shall see thy glorious behind.
-- Unknown.
The Moon.
Old King Ghorn had forged his kingdom from the war-wracked
lands of Arndor not by the strength of his sword but by the
sharpness of mind. It was his cleverness that tricked the
goblins into leaving; it was trickiness that made the dragon
wing to better hunting grounds; it was his wisdom that kept
the barons from feuding amongst themselves and the horsemen
from attacking. Peace had reigned in Ghornia for 35 years,
and the king's sword became rusty as he raised his family.
Alas, the old king was on his deathbed before he could sire
any sons; his only heir was his daughter Triella. Now Good
King Ghorn knew that for peace to continue in Ghornia the
next king would have to be as clever, and so he devised the
following test for his daughter's suitors. He who could pass
it would become king; all others would die.
The test was thus:
The princess was put in the center of a huge 50 foot by 50
foot carpet. Whomsoever could touch her hand would get the
princess, and the throne besides. However, the rules of the
test were that the contestants could not walk over the
carpet, cross the plane of the carpet, or hang from
anything; nor could they use anything but their body and
wits (i.e. no magic or psionics, nor any items such as
ladders, block and tackles etc). Furthermore, only normal
humans could be applicants (i.e. no deformed guys with 50
foot arms, or shapechangers).
Ghornia now stands; it has a king whose wisdom is
unsurpassed. How did the king touch Triella's hand?
-- Unknown.
He asked Triella to walk to the edge of the carpet.
Wounded I am, and weary with fighting;
Gashed by iron, gored by the point of it,
Sick of battle-work, battered and scarred.
Many a fearful fight have I seen, when
Hope there was none, or helping the thick of it,
Ere I was down and fordone in the fray.
Offspring of hammers, hardest of battle-blades,
Smithied in forges, fell on me savagely,
Doomed to bear the brunt and shock of it,
Fierce encounter of clashing foes,
Leech cannot heal my hurts with his simples,
Salves and sores have I sought in vain.
Blade cuts dolorous, deep in the side of me,
Daily and nightly redouble my wounds.
-- Unknown.
A shield.
My beak is below, I burrow and nose
Under the ground, I go as I'm guided
By my master the farmer, old foe of the forest;
Bent and bowed, and my back he walks,
Forward pushing me over the field;
Sows on my path where I've passed along.
I come from the wood, a wagon carried me;
I was fitted with skill, I am full of wonders.
As grubbing I go, there's green on one side,
But black on the other my path is seen.
A curious prong pierces my back;
Beneath me in front, another grows down
And forward pointing is fixed to my head.
I tear and gash the ground with my teeth,
If my master steer me with skill from behind.
-- Unknown.
A plow.
A painting, I have no frame,
No gallery exhibits me;
Here today, tomorrow I move;
Yet I am as permanent as life itself.
A painting, I use no canvas,
Yet my canvas is the essence of life;
No brush was used in my creation,
But colors are mine to display.
A painting; who am I?
-- Unknown.
A rainbow.
-Hyp.
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