The Wonder of Futility (Holly)

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In a message dated 5/1/00 12:38:59 PM Mountain Daylight Time,

carrea@v... writes:

 

<< It seems the day words started to make sense, the world stopped to

make any. >>

 

Hbarrett47 <Hbarrett47@a...>

 

< Your intuitive hits are terrific, Antoine! There's a wonderful book by

David Abrams (I think) called The Spell of the Sensuous. He writes about

the great loss of original "knowing" that came with the written word --

perhaps our exit from Eden. Holly >

 

It brings to my mind this song from Moustaki that has been part of my

surrounding since my first year on this planet. I am here translating

it.

 

"THERE WAS A GARDEN

 

it's a song for the children

that are born and live between steel

and asphalt between concrete and asphalt

and that will probably never know

that earth was a garden

 

there was a garden that we called earth

it shined under the sun like a forbidden fruit

no it was neither paradise neither hell

neither something already seen or already heard (?the past of hear)

 

there was a garden a house and trees

with a bed of foam to make love

and a little stream rolling without a wave

came to refresh it and followed its course

 

the was a garden big as a valley

we could feed on it in all seasons

on the burning soil or the frozen grass

and find flowers who had no names

 

there was a garden that we called the earth

it was big enough for thousands of children

our grand fathers lived on it in times past

and they hold it themselves from their grand parents

 

where is this garden where we could of been born

where we could of lived carefree and naked

where is this house all doors open

that I still look for and that I do not find anymore."

 

Antoine