DE PROFUNDIS

De hundrede elskende

sover for evigt

under den tørre jord.

Andalusien har

lange røde veje.

Cordoba, grønne oliventræer,

hvor hundrede kors

vil få dem til at huske.

De hundrede elskende

sover for evigt.

Federico Garcia Lorca

THE GIRL FROM IPANEMA

AL OTRO LADO DEL RIO - JORGE DREXLER

 

Clavo mi remo en el agua

- I dig my oar into the water

Llevo tu remo en el mío

- I carry your oar with my oar

Creo que he visto una luz

- I think I have seen a light

al otro lado del río

- on the other shore of the river

El día le irá pudiendo

- The day will be breaking down

poco a poco al frío

- the cold, little by little

Creo que he visto una luz

- I think I have seen a light

al otro lado del río

- on the other shore of the river

Sobre todo creo que no todo está perdido

- Above all I think that not everything is lost

Tanta lágrima, tanta lágrima y yo,

- So many tears, so many tears and I,

soy un vaso vacío

- I am an empty glass

Oigo una voz que me llama, casi un suspiro

- I hear a voice that is calling me, nearly a sigh

"Rema, rema, rema"

- "Row, row, row"

"Rema, rema, rema"

- "Row, row, row"

En esta orilla del mundo

- In this shore of the world

lo que no es presa es baldío

- what is not a dam is waste land

Creo que he visto una luz

- I think I have seen a light

al otro lado del río

- on the other shore of the river

Yo muy serio voy remando

- I am rowing very serious,

muy adentro sonrío

- but deep inside I'm smiling

Creo que he visto una luz

- I think I have seen a light

al otro lado del río

- on the other shore of the river

Sobre todo creo que no todo está perdido

- Above all I think that not everything is lost

Tanta lágrima, tanta lágrima y yo,

- So many tears, so many tears and I,
soy un vaso vacío

- I am an empty glass

Oigo una voz que me llama, casi un suspiro

- I hear a voice that is calling me, nearly a sigh

"Rema, rema, rema"

- "Row, row, row"

"Rema, rema, rema"
- "Row, row, row"

Clavo mi remo en el agua

- I dig my oar into the water

Llevo tu remo en el mío

- I carry your oar with my oar

Creo que he visto una luz

- I think I have seen a light

al otro lado del río

- on the other shore of the river

NAVAJO NIGHT CHANT

NAVAJO NIGHT CHANT

I

House made of dawn.

House made of evening light.

House made of the dark cloud.

House made of male rain.

House made of dark mist.

House made of female rain.

House made of pollen.

House made of grasshoppers.

Dark cloud is at the door.

The trail out of it is dark cloud.

The zigzag lightning stands high upon it.

An offering I make.

Restore my feet for me.

Restore my legs for me.

Restore my body for me.

Restore my mind for me.

Restore my voice for me.

This very day take out your spell for me.

Happily I recover.

Happily my interior becomes cool.

Happily I go forth.

My interior feeling cool, may I walk.

No longer sore, may I walk.

Impervious to pain, may I walk.

With lively feelings may I walk.

As it used to be long ago, may I walk.

Happily may I walk.

Happily, with abundant dark clouds, may I walk.

Happily, with abundant showers, may I walk.

Happily, with abundant plants, may I walk.

Happily on a trail of pollen, may I walk.

Happily may I walk.

Being as it used to be long ago, may I walk.

May it be beautiful before me.

May it be beautiful behind me.

May it be beautiful below me.

May it be beautiful above me.

May it be beautiful all around me.

In beauty it is finished.

In beauty it is finished.

'Sa'ah naaghéi, Bik'eh hózhó

GLAD I MET: JOHN McNEIL

JOHN McNEIL is regarded as one of the most original and creative jazz artists in the world today. For over three decades John has toured with his own groups and has received widespread acclaim as both a player and composer. His highly personal trumpet style communicates across the full range of contemporary jazz, and his compositions combine harmonic freedom with melodic accessibility. John's restless experimentation has kept him on the cutting edge of new music and has kept him from being easily categorized.

I was lucky to meet John i 1979 in New York. I was doing some promotion photography for Nils Winther of SteepleChase Records. A few month later we teamed up for a European Tour including Scandinavia, Holland, Germany and France. I was very honored that John dedicated the song BlewBo to me.


The story about the track is quite funny. I met John in the Airport and raced through town to the recording studio. John had the impression of me as a very quiet and blue guy when I met him in New York, but now he saw me as a 'racedriver' doing everything to get to the studio in time. I think the track - with a bit of Miles influence- reflects that pretty cool...

FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA

CANTE JONDO

Til Salvador Quientero

Floden Guadalquivir flyder

mellem oliven og appelsiner

Granadas tvende floder falder

ned fra sneen til hveden

Ay amor

der rejste og ej kom tilbage

Floden Guadalquivir

har et granatrødt skæg

Granadas tvende floder

et af tårer et af blod

Ay amor

der rejste og ej kom tilbage

For skibe med sejl

har Sevilla en vej

på Granadas vande

ror kun suk afsted

Ay amor

der rejste og ej kom tilbage

 

ONE FOR THE ROAD...MY KIND OF ROAD !

MY FAVORITE BARS IN SPAIN

LA BODEGA ANDALUZA IN ALICANTE

-thanks Jorge for not telling me to hit

the road when trying to qoute Lorca

LE CHIEN ANDALOU IN GRANADA

AY !

VORAMAR IN SITGES..sin alcohol
A real Hemingway Place. An amazing view too !



Now I better ask Mr. Palin to help explain
why it is called 'One For The Road'.

SALT FOR THE AFTERLIFE

Fragment of Carl C.G. Jung – The Soul and Death (in: The Meaning of Death, Herman Feifel, editor)


I have often been asked what I believe about death, that unproblematical ending of individual existence. Death is known to us simply as the end. It is the period, often placed before the close of the sentence and followed only by memories of aftereffects in others. For the person concerned, however, the sand has run out of the glass; the rolling stone has come to rest. When death confronts us, life always seems like a downward flow or like a clock that has been wound up and whose eventual “running down” is taken for granted. We are never more convinced of this “running down” than when a human life comes to its end before our eyes, and the question of the meaning and worth of life never becomes more urgent or more agonizing than when we see the final breath leave a body which a moment before was living. How different does the meaning of life seem to us when we see a young person striving for distant goals and shaping the future, and compare this with an incurable invalid, or with an old man who is sinking reluctantly and without strength to resist into the grave! Youth — we should like to think — has purpose, future, meaning, and value, whereas the coming to an end is only a meaningless cessation. If a young man is afraid of the world, of life and the future, then everyone finds it regrettable, senseless, neurotic; he is considered a cowardly shirker. But when an aging person secretly shudders and is even mortally afraid at the thought that his reasonable expectation of life now amounts to only so many years, then we are painfully reminded of certain feelings within our own breast; we look away and turn the conversation to some other topic. The optimism with which we judge the young man fails us here. Naturally we have on hand for every eventuality one or two suitable banalities about life which we occasionally hand out to the other fellow, such as “everyone must die sometime,” “one doesn’t live forever,” etc. But when one is alone and it is night and so dark and still that one hears nothing and sees nothing but the thoughts which add and subtract the years, and the long row of disagreeable facts which remorselessly indicate how far the hand of the clock has moved forward, and the slow, irresistible approach of the wall of darkness which will eventually engulf everything you love, possess, wish, strive, and hope for — then all our profundities about life slink off to some undiscoverable hiding place, and fear envelops the sleepless one like a smothering blanket.

ALICANTE/RED