Marquise, si mon visage, etc, etc.

Bon ben, c'est ma fête aujourd'hui, j'ai 49 ans (aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!). Tradition sur le blogue, je partage les Stances à Marquise, version chantée par Georges Brassens. Mes traits un peu vieux se font de plus en plus nombreux et de plus en plus tout court. "Un peu" commence à être franchement un euphémisme. Dans trois ans, j'aurai le même âge que Pierre Corneille quand il a écrit le poème. Il me reste encore du temps, mais il file.

Auld Lang Syne

Happy new year to all my readers! As it is a tradition on this blog, I am sharing Auld Lang Syne. I hope you enjoy.

All Souls Night by Edith Wharton

Here is the reading of a poem by Edith Wharton, set on Halloween night. Not to be confused with a short story of the same writer, with the same name. which I have blogged about here. Nevertheless, the poem is also a sort of ghost story (a ghost poem?) and it is quite eerie in its own right, if not a tad scary. Tell me if you shiver listening to it.

"The dirty golden mustard of September"

And I stop by a gateway
To smoke a cigarette
And stares across the fields and remember
The gypsy fairs of August
And early evening haze
The dirty golden mustard of September

Martin Newell, Black Shuck
 

I quote this poem every year or so, but not this specific stanza. I do the previous one, but rereading it yesterday as I often do during my reading ritual in preparation for Halloween, the last line struck me. This is what it has started to look like now outside, the trees have dirty golden mustard spots in their branches. Dirty golden mustard is the colour of September. Oh and you can most definitely feel (and enjoy!) the early evening haze too.

"There comes an autumn sickle..."

 And as the daylight's fading
When Lammas has come in
And gleamers go to work among the stubble
There comes an autumn sickle
To cut the summer's throat
Before the season knows it is in trouble

Martin Newell, Black Shuck

 We are Lammas Day, and as it is a tradition here, I quote this poem. The first day of August and this lovely evocative quote about it are a reminder of two things: 1)autumn is on its way, closer than before, 2)so is Halloween. So I am getting in an autumnal mood, and I have already started reading horror stories.

"Marquise, si mon visage," etc.

Bon ben j'ai 48 ans aujourd'hui. Tradition oblige:

For Auld Lang Syne...

Happy New year everyone! I am starting it with u Auld Lang Syne, as it is a tradition here in the UK and elsewhere.

Three Wise Men

 'Tis the season to be reading. Tonight's reading suggestion for Yuletide: Three Wise Men, by Carol Ann Duffy. Illustrations by Julia Klenovsky. It is of course her annual Christmas poem. A poem that is in fact a dream like tale. Or rather, three tales, told by three people (the Three Wise Men of the title), to a Traveler, on the twelfth night of Christmas. The Traveller (and the reader) has to decide which tale is true. There's wassail, miracle soup, there's also the Twelve Days of Christmas, told with the sincerity of a true story. I enjoyed it, although maybe not as much as her last two ones. But then again, maybe it is too fresh in my mind. But it's still a quality tale in verse and, well, I also happen to have purchased a signed copy. Which is always nice.

Dicton sur septembre

C'est le premier septembre, je veux donc vous partager un dicton que j'ai appris récemment sur le mois. Dicton poétique et évocateur, mais aux origines obscures. Le voici: "Septembre se nomme, le mai de l'automne." Je ne sais pas si je suis entièrement d'accord, mais c'est joli dans tous les cas. Dites-moi ce que vous en pensez. Au moins, on montre le mois sur un jour positif et même charmant.

An autumn sickle...

 And as the daylight's fading
When Lammas has come in
And gleamers go to work among the stubble
There comes an autumn sickle
To cut the summer's throat
Before the season knows it is in trouble

Martin Newell, Black Shuck

We are Lammas Day, the first day of August. To commemorate, I am renewing a tradition on this blog, abandoned after 2017: I am quoting Newell's epic (and spooky) poem. As a reminder that some harvests have already started, that autumn is coming and that, yes, Halloween is coming too. Time to read scary stories and get into a chilling mood.

"J'ai 47 ans, mon vieux Corneille..."

Bon ben... J'ai 47 ans aujourd'hui. Je suis déjà un peu plus,à chaque année, comme le vieux Corneille. Et par conséquent je partage, ainsi qu'à chaque année, ses  Stances à Marquise, chantées par Georges Brassens. Je ne peux emmerder personne en attendant. Ce serait un brin hypocrite, à mon âge.

Auld Lang Syne (as always)

Happy new year everyone! As it is a tradition on this blog, I am sharing again the classic Auld Lang Syne. Which also reminds me that I have Scottish blood, so there might be something of me in this song, in a way. You tell me.

Christmas Eve at the Moon Under Water

'Tis the season to be reading. Today's reading suggestion (and the very first this Season): Christmas Eve at the Moon Under Water. Poem by Carol Ann Duffy, illustrations by Margaux Carpentier. Reading her poetry is now a personal Christmas literary tradition. It's a dreamlike and surreal narrative poem where animals and humans mix during a singing contest. In an English pub. Time and space converge to the Moon Under Water. Sacred and profane elements of the season too, with the Nativity story and its characters making an improbable appearance. Carol Ann Duffy's writing is so genuinely seasonal.

Je vivroie liement (Guillaume de Machaut)

Je suis tombé sur cette vidéo par hasard sur YouTube il y a quelques jours et ça m'a frappé: je n'ai pas blogué de musique médiévale depuis un bail. Et maintenant j'ai cette chanson de Guillaume de Machaut en tête, alors autant la partager ici. Je suis médiéviste de formation après tout...

"Je meurs de soif auprès de la fontaine"

Au mariage de nos amis, en fin de semaine, il y avait une fontaine sur le site qui a beaucoup impressionné Wolfie. Je ne sais pas trop pourquoi, mais il a insisté pour que je la prenne en photo. Pas lui avec la fontaine, mais la fontaine elle-même. Et à chaque fois que je vois une fontaine, je pense au vers ouvrant la ballade du concours de Blois. Étant médiéviste de formation, ça me reste en tête, même si ce n'était pas ma spécialité. J'ai essayé de l'expliquer à petit loup, sans succès.

"Marquise si mon visage..."

J'ai 46 ans aujourd'hui. Par conséquent: le vieux Corneille, les Stances à Marquise, Georges Brassens et tout le reste.

"For auld lang syne my jo"

Happy new year everyone! As a tradition on this blog, I am sharing again the classic Auld Lang Syne, sung here by Scottish artist Julie Fowlis. It's not the first time she shows up on this blog and it's been long overdue. She's an amazing artist. And she says "my jo" and not "my dear" and that's a bonus reason for me to choose her take on the song. Anyway, happy new year again.

Advent Street

'Tis the season to be reading. Today's reading suggestion is Advent Street, by Carol Ann Duffy. Illustrations by Yelena Bryksenkova. Duffy write a poem like this every year for Christmas. I seldom read poetry, but reading her work has become a new Christmas tradition for me. This one is particular as the protagonist is actually the reader, as it is written using the second person. So whoever reads this is renting on Advent Street after a break up and explores the street and its inhabitants one December night. It's a lovely melancholic piece, where a lingering pain is treated but never fully cured by moments of festive happiness. It might sound dreary, but it is actually quite heartwarming.

Of Ravens and Halloween

I took this picture early in October at Hogshaw Farm, a petting zoo we quite liked and that had lots of Halloween stuff already. It is a true raven. It struck me that because of their cultural depiction, often with sinister associations, ravens are perfect birds for the Halloween season. But they are seldom used, sadly. Of course, there is Edgar Allan Poe's poem/horror story(ish) The Raven, but since a certain program made a parody of it, I cannot take it seriously anymore. As much as it made me laugh, it is a shame. I think ravens should return in horror stories and in Halloween imagery.

Citons Prévert

Petite citation de Jacques Prévert apprise récemment. Je devrais vraiment me discipliner et me forcer à le lire, comme du temps de mes études universitaires. Enfin, je digresse, voici la citation: "Dans chaque église, il y a toujours quelque chose qui cloche."

Comme quoi on peut être anticlérical et avoir le sens de l'humour.