1. |
Marcan-Sìne
05:56
|
|||
|
We live where the lines are severed
and wither in the dew.
Hanging from the broken tether
that split the land in two.
On the border eyes see nothing
to fell a bird in flight.
Turn your hand to casting shadows
and make them see the light.
When the days of blight
make base, the hallowed.
And the graves are slight,
and much too shallow.
Smoke from what was once, our fathers
has bled into the sky.
Ashen faced; in clouds they’d gather
and with the seasons, die.
Chan eil carragh-chuimhne againn;
its torn beneath our feet.
The will divined, and reaped, and sowed
and swallowed by the peat.
And what’s the song
to brave forgetting?
What’s the Sun,
if not for setting?
There’s no way to break the silence
or still the turning years.
They yawn like hills to sleeping giants
in valleys full of tears.
Land that's not for men to govern;
to buy, and sell, in trade.
Borders drawn by fools, and braggarts,
in portions by the blade.
What is the tale,
if not for telling?
What is a tree,
if not for felling?
Revelry for fonder meadows
that grew around our heels.
Memories like streams of minnows;
all flown into the creels.
To write my wage,
I will remember.
Gu a cosg mo thìde,
I’ll light a candle when She enters.
|
||||
2. |
Staran Chaorach
03:49
|
|||
|
The road isn’t said
to rise from the mire;
Still wait for the grain
is freagair a dh'aithghearr.
The bells that we rang
now shake in the weather,
Like the ghosts of great ships,
Lay waste in the heather.
I wish I had eyes
to see hands in motion,
See through the disguise,
Like an erne though the ocean.
Where houses were burning
And land has gone fallow,
The rocks will all turn
To crops in a meadow.
Ma tha sin an dàn Dhia,
Gu dè fàth d'osna?
Carson s‘ na mara falamhaichte?
Tha e neo-aithnichte.
Favour is blind
and walks in the hollows.
Where a wounded thing goes;
The hunter soon follows.
It’s hard to survive,
When the spirit keeps turning
it’s face to the skies,
And the Prophets returning.
His light breaks in through
stone eyes like a shiver.
Like the pearl of great price;
Forgotten forever.
Give all you have
and wait for salvation;
The thorns on the grave,
The last revelation.
Deoch an doras
And swallow the timber.
The flooers o’ the forest
Die off in the winter.
|
||||
A Legacy of Clouds Scotland, UK
Songs of displacement and loss, tìr agus teaghlach; drawn from eachdraidh nan Gàidheal.
If you like A Legacy of Clouds, you may also like:
Singer-songwriter Henry Parker puts his own spin on the classic sounds of '60s and '70s British folk on this wilderness-inspired new LP.
go to album
The Water is the Shovel of the Shore
by Shovel Dance Collective
Traditional folk music and field recordings meld into fascinating long-form sound collages on the new LP from Shovel Dance Collective.
go to album
How Does It Feel EP
by Lizzie Weber
Missouri singer/songwriter Lizzie Weber delivers a trio of songs lightly informed by country music, and fleshed out with strings.
go to album
Guardians Of Our Time
by Edd Donovan and The Wandering Moles
Edd Donovan's day job as a social worker brings a sense of empathy to his elegantly constructed political folk music.
go to album
Irish singer-songwriter Oisin Leech's acoustic folk music is characterized by its muted beauty and intimate, solitary quality.
go to album
Ruth's sophomore release explores sacred signs against a backdrop of folk melodies and acoustic guitar.
go to album
The latest album by Phill Reynolds, a project of Italian singer Silva Martino Cantele, takes listeners on an Americana-fueled musical ride.
go to album
