Poems turned songs

AMÁLIA RODRIGUES - Trova do Vento Que Passa - Trova of the Passing Wind​

duncanness said:

In 1828 Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier wrote "The Song of the Vermonters, 1779).
Ho–all to the borders! Vermonters, come down,
With your breeches of deerskin and jackets of brown;
With your red woollen caps and your moccasins come,
To the gathering summons of trumpet and drum.

Come down with your rifles!
Let gray wolf and fox
Howl on in the shade of their primitive rocks;
Let the bear feed securely from pig-pen and stall;
Here's two-legged game for your powder and ball.

On our south came the Dutchmen, enveloped in grease;
And arming for battle while canting of peace;
On our east crafty Meshech has gathered his band
To hang up our leaders and eat up our land.

Ho–all to the rescue! For Satan shall work
No gain for his legions of Hampshire and York!
They claim our possessions–the pitiful knaves–
The tribute we pay shall be prisons and graves!

Let ....... and Ten Broek with bribes in their hands,
Still seek to divide and parcel our lands;
We've coats for our traitors, whoever they are;
The warp is of feathers–the filling of tar:

Does the 'old Bay State' threaten?
Does Congress complain?
Swarms Hampshire in arms on our borders again?
Bark the war dogs of Britain aloud on the lake–
Let 'em come; what they can they are welcome to take.

What seek they among us?
The pride of our wealth
Is comfort, contentment, and labor, and health,
And lands which, as Freemen we only have trod,
Independent of all, save the mercies of God.

Yet we owe no allegiance, we bow to no throne,
Our ruler is law and the law is our own;
Our leaders themselves are our own fellow-men,
Who can handle the sword, or the scythe, or the pen.

Our wives are all true, and our daughters are fair,
With their blue eyes of smiles and their light flowing hair,
All brisk at their wheels till the dark even-fall,
Then blithe at the sleigh-ride the husking and ball!

We've sheep on the hillsides, we've cows on the plain,
And ...-tasselled corn-fields and rank-growing grain;
There are deer on the mountains, and wood-pigeons fly
From the crack of our muskets, like clouds on the sky.

And there's fish in our streamlets and rivers which take
Their course from the hills to our broad bosomed lake;
Through rock-arched Winooski the salmon leaps free,
And the portly shad follows all fresh from the sea.

Like a sunbeam the pickerel glides through the pool,
And the spotted trout sleeps where the water is cool,
Or darts from his shelter of rock and of root,
At the beaver's quick plunge, or the angler's pursuit.

And ours are the mountains, which awfully rise,
Till they rest their green heads on the blue of the skies;
And ours are the forests unwasted, unshorn,
Save where the wild path of the tempest is torn.

And though savage and wild be this climate of ours,
And brief be our season of fruits and of flowers,
Far dearer the blast round our mountains which raves,
Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves!

Hurrah for Vermont! For the land which we till
Must have sons to defend her from valley and hill;
Leave the harvest to rot on the fields where it grows,
And the reaping of wheat for the reaping of foes

From far Michiscom's wild valley, to where
Poosoonsuck steals down from his wood-circled lair,
From Shocticook River to Lutterlock town
Ho–all to the rescue! Vermonters come down!

Come York or come Hampshire, come traitors or knaves,
If ye rule o'er our land ye shall rule o'er our graves;
Our vow is recorded–our banner unfurled,
In the name of Vermont we defy all the world!

Set to Music:

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Oldandeasilycofused said:

Not the same thing, but the poem reminded me of a rather ecumenical hymn. I don't know why, they're nothing alike.

"Amazing Grace". Written in 1772 with by Anglican clergyman John Newton.He had been involved in the Atlantic slave trade, so wrote from personal experience:

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed!

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures;
He will my Shield and Portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, Who called me here below,
Will be forever mine.

When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’d first begun.


Words: John Newton (1779)

The hymn was a hit here in the early 1970's, (?!) just the music, with bagpipes.

.

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Ai, Margarida​

Ai, Margarida​

Há uma música do povo​

Silesius Smithee said:

My favorite rendition being Emerson Lake and Palmer's . I saw them live in 1977.

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Solidaire said:

Can we have a sample you like in particular?

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LatinoEuropa said:

When it was time to set the table, there were five of us.

Na hora de pôr a mesa, éramos cinco.

..............

The poet José Luís Peixoto (1974) is one of the greatest names in contemporary Portuguese poetry.


When it was time to set the table, there were five of us:
my father, my mother, my sisters
and me. then my older sister
got married. then my younger sister
got married. then my father died. today,
when it's time to set the table, there are five of us,
except my older sister who is
at her house, except my sister more
new that is in her house, except mine
father, except my widowed mother. each one
theirs is an empty seat at this table where
like alone. but they will always be here.
when it's time to set the table, there will always be five of us.
as long as one of us is alive, we will be
always five.

......................................................................


O poeta José Luís Peixoto (1974) é um dos maiores nomes da poesia portuguesa contemporânea.

Na hora de pôr a mesa, éramos cinco:
o meu pai, a minha mãe, as minhas irmãs
e eu. depois, a minha irmã mais velha
casou-se. depois, a minha irmã mais nova
casou-se. depois, o meu pai morreu. hoje,
na hora de pôr a mesa, somos cinco,
menos a minha irmã mais velha que está
na casa dela, menos a minha irmã mais
nova que está na casa dela, menos o meu
pai, menos a minha mãe viúva. cada um
deles é um lugar vazio nesta mesa onde
como sozinho. mas irão estar sempre aqui.
na hora de pôr a mesa, seremos sempre cinco.
enquanto um de nós estiver vivo, seremos
sempre cinco

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We Are Seven

“Two of us in the church-yard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the church-yard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.” “You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell, Sweet Maid, how this may be.” Then did the little Maid reply, “Seven boys…

www.poetryfoundation.org

Sir Jasper said:

I don't know if this has been set to music, so I won't quote it all here. but the parallels with Wordsworth's 'We are seven' seem unavoidable.

We Are Seven

“Two of us in the church-yard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the church-yard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.” “You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell, Sweet Maid, how this may be.” Then did the little Maid reply, “Seven boys…

www.poetryfoundation.org

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Nau Catrineta

Here comes the Ship Catrineta

There's a lot to tell!

Listen now, gentlemen,

An amazing story.


It was more than a year and a day

That were going back from the sea,

They no longer had to eat,

They no longer had to cook.


They soaked the sole

For the next day, dinner;

But the sole was so hard,

That they couldn't swallow it.


They cast lots at random

Which one should kill;

Soon luck fell

In the captain general.


– “Come up, come up, little sailor,

To that royal mast,

See if you see lands of Spain,

The beaches of Portugal!”


– “I don’t see Spanish lands,

Not even beaches in Portugal;

I see seven naked swords

That they are about to kill you.”


– “Above, above, gageiro,

Up to the real top!

Look if you can see Spain,

Sands of Portugal!”


– “Best wishes, captain,

My captain general!

I already see lands of Spain,

Sands of Portugal!”

But I see three .....,

Under an orange grove:

One sitting sewing,

Another at the spinning wheel,

The most beautiful of all

She’s in the middle of crying.”


– “All three are my daughters,

Oh! Who else would like to hug!

The most beautiful of all

I will marry you.”


– “I don’t want your daughter,

That it took you to create.”


– “I will give you so much money

May you not tell it.”


– “I don’t want your money

Because it was hard for you to win.”


– “I give you my white horse,

That there has never been another like it.”


– “Guard your horse,

How difficult it was for you to teach.”


– “I will give you Catrineta,

To navigate it.”


– “I don’t want the Nau Catrineta,

That I don’t know how to govern.”


– “What do you want, my stutterer,

What good news shall I give you?”


– “Captain, I want your soul,

Stop taking it with me!”


– “I deny you, demon,

That you were tempting me!

My soul belongs to God alone;

I give my body to the sea.”


An angel took him in the arms,

He didn't let him drown.

He blasted the demon,

They calmed wind and sea;


And at night the Nau Catrineta

She was on land sailing.

(Collected by Almeida Garrett)

Lá vem a Nau Catrineta
Que tem muito que contar!
Ouvide agora, senhores,
Uma história de pasmar.

Passava mais de ano e dia
Que iam na volta do mar,
Já não tinham que comer,
Já não tinham que manjar.

Deitaram sola de molho
Para o outro dia jantar;
Mas a sola era tão rija,
Que a não puderam tragar.

Deitaram sortes à ventura
Qual se havia de matar;
Logo foi cair a sorte
No capitão general.

– “Sobe, sobe, marujinho,
Àquele mastro real,
Vê se vês terras de Espanha,
As praias de Portugal!”

– “Não vejo terras de Espanha,
Nem praias de Portugal;
Vejo sete espadas nuas
Que estão para te matar.”

– “Acima, acima, gageiro,
Acima ao tope real!
Olha se enxergas Espanha,
Areias de Portugal!”

– “Alvíssaras, capitão,
Meu capitão general!
Já vejo terras de Espanha,
Areias de Portugal!”
Mais enxergo três meninas,
Debaixo de um laranjal:
Uma sentada a coser,
Outra na roca a fiar,
A mais formosa de todas
Está no meio a chorar.”

– “Todas três são minhas filhas,
Oh! quem mas dera abraçar!
A mais formosa de todas
Contigo a hei-de casar.”

– “A vossa filha não quero,
Que vos custou a criar.”

– “Dar-te-ei tanto dinheiro
Que o não possas contar.”

– “Não quero o vosso dinheiro
Pois vos custou a ganhar.”

– “Dou-te o meu cavalo branco,
Que nunca houve outro igual.”

– “Guardai o vosso cavalo,
Que vos custou a ensinar.”

– “Dar-te-ei a Catrineta,
Para nela navegar.”

– “Não quero a Nau Catrineta,
Que a não sei governar.”

– “Que queres tu, meu gageiro,
Que alvíssaras te hei-de dar?”

– “Capitão, quero a tua alma,
Para comigo a levar!”

– “Renego de ti, demónio,
Que me estavas a tentar!
A minha alma é só de Deus;
O corpo dou eu ao mar.”

Tomou-o um anjo nos braços,
Não no deixou afogar.
Deu um estouro o demónio,
Acalmaram vento e mar;

E à noite a Nau Catrineta
Estava em terra a varar.
(Recolhido por Almeida Garrett)

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