Money Makes The Mirth
When all birds else do of their music fail,
Money's the still-sweet-singing nightingale!
poem by Robert Herrick
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Nightingale
I built my house beside the wood
So I could hear you singing
And it was sweet and it was good
And love was all beginning
Fare thee well my nightingale
Twas long ago I found you
Now all your songs of beauty fail
The forest closes round you
The sun goes down behind a veil
Tis now that you would call me
So rest in peace my nightingale
Beneath your branch of holly
Fare thee well my nightingale
I lived but to be near you
Tho' you are singing somewhere still
I can no longer hear you
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the strips of woods [În arcane de pădure]
In the strips of woods, the darkness in a scary way is clinging.
Both the crowded leaves are silent and the slender trees, so high;
Night is dumb, and sad, and dying, sheltered by the opaque sky,
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
In the strips of woods, the tempest in a scary way is spinning,
Sending down a flood of water and a crimson bolt of flame;
Why is harmony a nuisance and a fury without aim,
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
In the strips of woods, the terror with the quietness is mingling,
Late aurora under foliage cannot come to light the moss,
For in front of it the darkness blocks the way and lies across –
But the nightingale is singing, but the nightingale is singing.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Head The Call
Have you been listening, (Listen to the music)
Have you been sleeping (The sermon's in the music)
(The man standing next to you, he must surely be your brother)
(So brother please) heed the call
(The piper he's still piping)
The magic in the music
(The drummer he's still drumming)
The message in the music
(Sweet song of loving you should be singing)
(So brother please) heed the call
Listen to the music, Listen to the music
(Listen to the music) heed the call
(Listen to the music) heed the call
Heed the call of the music
Heed the call of the music
Heed the call of the music
Heed the call of the music
(It's still early in our morning)
There's still time for singing
Let's not waste our morning
Join in the singing
The outlaw of the midnight
He all too soon comes winging
(So brother please, please) heed the call
(Listen to the music) (Listen to the music) yeah
(Listen to the music) (Listen to the music) oh oh
(Listen to the music) oh oh oh (Listen to the music)
(Listen to the music)
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those birds
Those birds outside your window at dawn
singing all at once fit to bust –
did you know they migrate from Islam
in the fighting season?
They’re all Sufis: they sleep all night
with the Beloved; and in the morning
they exchange the jokes they heard,
the pillow talk from the night before sleep;
then the blackbird and the thrush
weave these into stories which they sing
all day; then at night the nightingale
makes them all into one beautiful poem
about being intoxicated into song
by the wine of Shiraz; the rose-water wafers;
and how those who say
that one cannot be intoxicated
by the longing for the One
have proved themselves wrong
and proved the nightingale right
as you can know in yourself
when the nightingale sings of this
to the heart’s light pulsing in the stars.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Man with a Guitar
Men talk on the public square,
Pigeons eat on the sidewalk and fly,
Women flirt and feed the pigeons.
Men, envious of pigeons,
Desire more attention from the women
But women only notice birds who know how to sing.
There comes a nightingale that starts singing
And attention moves from pigeons to nightingales;
There comes a man with a guitar, and he starts playing
And singing like a nightingale.
A woman allured by these new sounds
Forgets the pigeons and nightingales;
She shyly starts to sing
And turns to a man with a guitar.
poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Music & Me
Weve been together for such a long time now
Music, music and me
Dont care wether all our songs rhyme
Now music, music and me
Only know wherever I go
Were as close as two friends can be
There have been others
But never two lovers
Like music, music and me
Grab a song and come along
You can sing your melody
In your mind you will find
A world of sweet harmony
Birds of a feather will fly together
Now music, music and me
Music and me
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nightingale’s Song
A delegation of birds petitioned God
“Why is it you never chastise the nightingale? ”
God bid nightingale to speak;
“My way, she explained is different
March to June I sing
The other nine months, while others
Continue chirping, I am silent”
Sing your sweet songs beloved
While your Brethren clatter about
But know when to be silent...
That God may speak to you
(Inspired by Rumi)
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Alankar (Decor) -10
Music My Love
'Music my love, singing in heart repletes
I swear on my singing you too love it
My notes, my scales, singing my choice, my taste
When I go on singing sure for repeats
Listen to my singing closing your eyes
Honour you my singing with mind open
And you to my singing you ears sharpen
Never to my singing should you despise'
'Oh me to your singing I close my eyes
And me to your singing with mind open
I pray as your singing in heart repletes
And mine to your singing ears do depise
Not mine but yours, singing not to happen
Music your love, singing yours no repeats'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Bird Raptures
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come darkness, moonrise, everything
That is so silent, sweet, and pale,
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.
Make haste to mount, thou wistful moon,
Make haste to wake the nightingale:
Let silence set the world in tune
To hearken to that wordless tale
Which warbles from the nightingale.
O herald skylark, stay thy flight
One moment, for a nightingale
Floods us with sorrow and delight.
To-morrow thou shalt hoist the sail;
Leave us tonight the nightingale.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Nughtingale And Cuckoo
Yes, nightingale and cuckoo! it was meet
That you should come together; for ye twain
Are emblems of the rapture and the pain
That in the April of our life compete,
Until we know not which is the more sweet,
Nor yet have learned that both of them are vain!
Yet wherefore, nightingale! break off thy strain,
While yet the cuckoo doth his call repeat?
Not so with me. To sweet woe did I cling
Long after echoing happiness was dead,
And so found solace. Now, alas! the sting!
Cuckoo and nightingale alike have fled;
Neither for joy nor sorrow do I sing,
And autumn silence gathers in their stead.
poem by Alfred Austin
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The Rose Upon My Balcony
The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming,
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring;
You ask me why her breath is sweet, and why her cheek is blooming,
It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing.
The nightingale, whose melody is through the greenwood ringing,
Was silent when the boughs were bare and winds were blowing keen:
And if, Mamma, you ask of me the reason of his singing,
It is because the sun is out and all the leaves are green.
Thus each performs his part, Mamma; the birds have found their voices,
The blowing rose a flush, Mamma, her bonny cheek to dye;
And there's sunshine in my heart, Mamma, which wakens and rejoices,
And so I sing and blush, Mamma, and that's the reason why.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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The Sweet Song
Flocks of a small species of birds
Flew around the city area
Singing sweet sweet sweet!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Spring Time Is Coming
Beautiful Spring is coming,
Ah, yes, will soon be here,
For the clear bright sun is shining
All human hearts to cheer.
One the brightest gems of nature
Is the orb that o'er us shines,
And o'er the wide creation,
It'll shine to the end of time.
The birds will soon be singing
On shrub and bough of trees,
Their notes will soon be ringing
Out, forth so merrily.
They love the merry spring time,
Those little birds we love,
They love the pleasant sunshine
That comes down from above.
We can hear them sweetly singing
From early morn, till night.
They make music in the woodland
Those little birds; so bright,
We should dearly love them,
Those little harmless things,
And when we hear their music,
We know that it is spring.
Ah; it's pleasant in the springtime,
All nature seems so gay.
Bright flowers in the sunshine,
Sweet fragrance can display.
The hills, and dales, and meadows,
So beautifully covered o'er;
With natures richest verdure,
The green grass, as of yore.
The winter will soon be over,
With its cold and chilly winds.
It is sad and dreary ever,
Yet its dying, free from sin.
Now the springtime is coming,
Ah, yes, will soon be here.
We will welcome in its coming
In this glad new year.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Let It All Be Music
Music is a mirror
Near around my soul
Music is the spirit
Come on let it roll
Music is my nature
People have you heard
Music is my future
Music is the world
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
Music isnt somewhere
Music turns you right
Music is a fever
Leads you day and night
Music is like heaven
Where you wanna be
Music is religion
Music sets you free
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
Music is tomorrow
Music is today
Music is forever
Music is the way
Music is for women
Music is for men
Music is for children
Sing it all again
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
I can feel it, in my soul
I can feel it, in my heart
Sweet sweet sweet music
Music
Sweet sweet sweet music
Sweet music
Play it on
Play it on
My my my my my kind of music
Play it
Play the music
My my my my my kind of music
Play it
I said play it
On and on and on and on
Music
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet And The Bird
Said a people to a poet---' Go out from among us straightway!
While we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine.
There's a little fair brown nightingale, who, sitting in the gateways
Makes fitter music to our ears than any song of thine!'
The poet went out weeping---the nightingale ceased chanting;
'Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy sweetness done?'
I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,
Whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun.'
The poet went out weeping,---and died abroad, bereft there---
The bird flew to his grave and died, amid a thousand wails:---
And, when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there
Was only of the poet's song, and not the nightingale's.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Till There Was You
There were bells on a hill
But i never heard them ringing
No i never heard them at all
Till there was you
There were birds in the sky
But i never saw them winging
No i never saw them at all
Till there was you
Then there was music and wonderful roses
They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and you
There was love all around
But i never heard it singing
No i never heard it at all
Till there was you
Then there was music and wonderful roses
They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and you
There was love all around
But i never heard it singing
No i never heard it at all
Till there was you
Till there was you
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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'Till There Was You
There were bells on a hill
But I never heard them ringing
No, I never heard them at all
Till there was you
There were birds in the sky
But I never saw them winging
No, I never saw them at all
Till there was you
Then there was music and wonderful roses
They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows
Of dawn and dew
There was love all around
But I never heard it singing
No I never heard it at all
Till there was you
Then there was music and wonderful roses
They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows
Of dawn and dew
There was love all around
But I never heard it singing
No, I never heard it at all
Till there was you
Till there was you
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dancin' In The Streets (live)
Hey, comin' out around the world be ready for a brand new beat
Oh, summer's here and the time is right, oh, for dancing in the street
Dancing in Chicago (dancing in the street)
Down in New Orleans (dancing in the street)
In New York City (dancing in the street)
All we need is music, sweet music (sweet, sweet music)
They'll be music everywhere (everywhere)
They'll be laughing, singing, music swinging and dancing in the street
It doesn't matter what you wear just as long as you are there
They're dancing (dancing in the street) oh oh
This is an invitation across the nation the chance for folks to meet
There'll be swinging, swaying, music playing and dancing in the street
Philadelphia, PA now (dancing in the street)
Baltimore and D.C. (dancing in the street)
Can't forget them other cities (dancing in the street
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Such a Sweet Kiss
You blew me such a sweet, sweet
Sweet kiss..
It rode upon the winds to find
My ruby red lips, to fall in love
Once again..
You look down at me as your
Lips spoke the words “I’ve
Found my true love and my
Lips will never kiss another”
Let not our love die in vain
For I’ve seen a nightingale
Perched upon my windowsill,
I heard the nightingale sing
So sweet, so sweet
It sang of my ruby red lips
With,
Lyric were off the chain..
Such harmony cannot will
Not,
Be perfected again..
poem by Carolyn Sears
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The Indian Serenade
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me--who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream--
The champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart;
As I must on thine,
Oh, beloved as thou art!
O lift me from the grass!
die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;--
Oh! press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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