1. |
The Smile
05:55
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There is a Smile of Love
And there is a Smile of Deceit
And there is a Smile of Smiles
In which these two Smiles meet
And there is a Frown of Hate
And there is a Frown of disdain
And there is a Frown of Frowns
Which you strive to forget in vain
For it sticks in the Hearts deep Core
And it sticks in the deep Back bone
And no Smile that ever was smild
But only one Smile alone
That betwixt the Cradle & Grave
It only once Smild can be
But when it once is Smild
There’s an end to all Misery
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2. |
The Tyger
03:56
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Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
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3. |
True Love Doth Pass Away
04:04
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My silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air,
By love are driv'n away;
And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.
Bring me an axe and spade,
Bring me a winding sheet;
When I my grave have made,
Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay.
True love doth pass away.
(*W.Blake’s original title: ”Song”)
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4. |
A Little Girl Lost
04:39
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In the age of gold
Free from winter's cold
Youth and maiden bright
To the holy light
Then, in rising day
On the grass they play
Parents were afar
Strangers came not near
And the maiden soon forgot her fear
To her father white
Came the maiden bright
But his loving look
Like the holy book
All her tender limbs with terror shook
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5. |
Mad Song
04:28
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The wild winds weep
And the night is a-cold
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs infold
But lo! the morning peeps
Over the eastern steeps
And the rustling birds of dawn
The earth do scorn.
Lo! to the vault
Of paved heaven
With sorrow fraught
My notes are driven
They strike the ear of night
Make weep the eyes of day
They make mad the roaring winds
And with tempests play.
Like a fiend in a cloud
With howling woe
After night I do croud
And with night will go
I turn my back to the east,
From whence comforts have increased
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain
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6. |
The Chimney Sweeper
04:44
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A little black thing among the snow
Crying "'weep! 'weep!" in notes of woe
"Where are thy father and mother? Say!"
"They are both gone up to the church to pray”
Because I was happy upon the heath
And smiled among the winter's snow
They clothed me in the clothes of death
And taught me to sing the notes of woe
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7. |
Holy Thursday
03:09
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Is this a holy thing to see
In a rich and fruitful land.
Babes reduced to misery.
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty.
And their sun does never shine
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill'd with thorns
It is eternal winter there.
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8. |
The Angel
03:56
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I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
That I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne'er beguiled.
And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart's delight.
So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten-thousand shields and spears.
Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled
And grey hairs were on my head.
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9. |
London
03:04
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I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice : in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
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10. |
The Sick Rose
03:35
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O Rose , thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy.
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
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11. |
8.15
05:01
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Incirrina Athens, Greece
Dark electronic/minimal synth duo from Athens,GR
upcoming
shows:
13.04 - Mood Voretx Fest, Romantso, Athens
11.05 - Japan Festival, Athens
1.10 - FZW, Dortmund
... more
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