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Description
A crossover collaboration-project
Spoken Word - Poetry - Ballad
Vocals and Vocal Music: Elisabeth Warren (Rinca), Sydney (Australia)
Lyrics (Poor is the Life): Michael East (1580-1648), Lichfield (England)
Lyrics (Intimate Storm) and Spoken Word: Brenda Cowe (Brendajean), Buffalo (USA)
Instrumental Music, Mix, Spoken Word: Andreas Herrmann (Dirigent), Munich (Germany)
Spoken Word - Poetry - Ballad
Vocals and Vocal Music: Elisabeth Warren (Rinca), Sydney (Australia)
Lyrics (Poor is the Life): Michael East (1580-1648), Lichfield (England)
Lyrics (Intimate Storm) and Spoken Word: Brenda Cowe (Brendajean), Buffalo (USA)
Instrumental Music, Mix, Spoken Word: Andreas Herrmann (Dirigent), Munich (Germany)
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Lyrics
Brendajean: Intimate Storm
Clasped within the light, loose hand of uncertainty
I am scattered to aimlessly slip through these fingers,
like cremated ashes being left to disintegration
I am strewn and drifting above your body's ridges,
canyons carved by tributaries of your elusive pristine
water pools, where your storms of the past collect
and create the veil of condensation that turns my breath
into raindrops falling, forming streams to try and reach you,
still they bend and fall away from your water's depth
that would provide the well where confusion cleanses clear,
my wind and snow and rain and snow and wind and rain
would fall each season's cycle, against your aging face of fear.
Michael East (1580-1648): Poor is the Life
Poor is the life that misses
The lover's greatest treasure,
Innumerable kisses,
Which end in endless pleasure.
O, then, if this be so,
Shall I a virgin die?
Fie no, no, no!
Clasped within the light, loose hand of uncertainty
I am scattered to aimlessly slip through these fingers,
like cremated ashes being left to disintegration
I am strewn and drifting above your body's ridges,
canyons carved by tributaries of your elusive pristine
water pools, where your storms of the past collect
and create the veil of condensation that turns my breath
into raindrops falling, forming streams to try and reach you,
still they bend and fall away from your water's depth
that would provide the well where confusion cleanses clear,
my wind and snow and rain and snow and wind and rain
would fall each season's cycle, against your aging face of fear.
Michael East (1580-1648): Poor is the Life
Poor is the life that misses
The lover's greatest treasure,
Innumerable kisses,
Which end in endless pleasure.
O, then, if this be so,
Shall I a virgin die?
Fie no, no, no!
Feter
very cool song ...loved the poem ..
Rinca voice is charming .indeed nice recitation
of Brenda..and cool music and arrangmenet
my freind ..thnx for sharin !