1. |
The Rain and Wind
02:25
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The Rain and Wind
reimagining “The Golden Vanity” (c. 1780)
Have you caught the stars that fall?
Have you seen the dead who rise?
For I woke in the night to a rage that filled the skies.
And I heard the captains call
through the rain and wind,
and I saw the world begin to end.
There’s a fire on the sea
and a fury in the deep.
There’s a storm that has called great Leviathan from sleep,
and he hears the sailors’ plea
through the rain and wind,
and he hungers for the world to end.
All the children slain newborn,
all that Herod had struck down—
oh, they’ll rise up in red where their blood had stained the ground,
and they’ll sound the huntsman’s horn
through the rain and wind,
and they’ll ride with Death until the end.
For surely God will break this world
like a stick in His great hands,
and the angels will tremble to hear His last commands.
Can’t you see that justice comes
through the rain and wind?
Can’t you see the world begin to end?
There’ll be justice in this world
through the rain and wind.
There’ll be justice in this world
at the end.
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2. |
The Windfall
02:57
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The Windfall
reimagining “Adieu to Judges and Juries” (c. 1790)
Will you say, love, that love is our orchard,
petals so fresh and so young?
Will you cry, love, that love is our windfall,
and the apple still sharp on your tongue?
Will you feel, love, that love has grown colder,
snow on the houses and farms?
Will you hold, love, our love through the winter,
as you wander so far from my arms?
Oh, if I were as free as the swallows,
swift to the south I would go.
But I must stay far north with the sparrows,
and they ruffle so cold in the snow.
See the breath that I breathe on the window,
waiting for you and the spring,
while the frost on the pane dims the daylight,
and the ice on my hand is my ring.
Does the sun warm you far in the south, love,
bright in the worlds where you’ve flown?
Do you whistle, a songbird in summer,
while your love is in winter alone?
In the hearth, there are embers to kindle,
old applewood from the stand.
In the heart, I remember you gentle,
all the tremble and touch of your hand.
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3. |
Thorny Moor
02:55
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Thorny Moor
reimagining “Fulfillment” (1844)
and “Lyke Wake Dirge” (c. 1600)
From Thorny Moor down to the Bridge of Dread,
life grows narrow for the dead. Red
fires burn there, close beside the ice:
hot or cold, sin will claim its price.
When daylight dims, long shadows on the sun,
down the dark path you must run—one
way between the snow and burning coal,
and may Christ receive your soul.
Your clothes shall be what orphans find to wear;
all your wealth, the widows’ share. There
what you gave will finally be repaid—
prayers from those for whom you prayed.
All shadows fleet, and swift the firelight:
quick the candle, quick the night. Bright
hope will fade when guilt demands its toll,
and may Christ receive your soul.
Chilled by the children you would never feed
or else fevered by your greed: Plead
to the flames or beg uncaring frost—
all you find there is the lost.
You are the captive you would never cheer,
you the corpse you must draw near. Fear
scrapes your plate, hate spills your empty bowl,
and may Christ receive your soul.
This very day, deep in this very night,
much will fail, your heart take fright. Slight
is your spirit, brief is all your breath.
Into life soon creeps your death.
When daylight dims, long shadows on the sun,
down the dark path you must run—one
way between the snow and burning coal,
and may Christ receive your soul.
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4. |
Down by the River
02:22
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Down by the River
reimagining “The Rolling of the Stones” (c. 1840)
I would not have touched all my father’s silver coins
or his golden watch and chain.
But love takes so much—down by the river
I heard soft lips explain.
I would not have dressed in my mother’s velvet gown
or her diamond broach so fine.
But love costs so much—down by the river
I felt his lips on mine.
Oh, I brushed the gentle water,
and, my love, you touched my hair.
And my heart was washed away like water,
on the day, my love, that I saw you there.
I would not have harmed all my brothers as they slept
or my sisters safe in bed.
But love burns so much—down by the river
I saw his lips so red.
I would not have seen all these people gathered ’round
or these gallows raised so high.
But love needs so much—down by the river
hard lips kissed me goodbye.
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5. |
The Long Grass
03:22
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The Long Grass
reimagining “Chì Mi Na Mòrbheanna” (1856)
Time moves / slow near the water, and
day breaks / so strange by the sea. I’ve been
lost here, / astray in the hours, adrift on the long days
since you’ve gone away.
Dark steals / early these evenings, and
night comes / to take and to hold. I’ve been
kept here, / enfolded by shadows, enshrouded—all love told,
all dreams gone so cold.
But sleep, love, safe in the gentle earth,
watched by hills and pine.
The summer days will dawn
when we rise together,
and down through the long grass / again we will run.
Fog slips / soft through these valleys, and
mist shapes / the ghosts of these days. I’ve been
left here, / betrayed and bewildered, beset by this dark haze,
this world gone to gray.
God sets / bounds on the water, and
God holds / the springs of the deep, and still
fresh tears, / decreed by the silence, descend to the salt sea
since you’ve gone from me.
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6. |
In the Small Rain's Mist
04:50
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In the Small Rain’s Mist
reimagining “Pearla An Bhrollaig Bhain” (c. 1700)
See the leaves there, yellow and brown,
as they skate across the lawn.
In the fall’s first chill, they’re dancing through the hours.
And the garden stays in bloom,
bright with marigold and broom,
and the aster, too—the late year’s last few flowers.
There’s a western gate, I know,
and one day I will go
to see what lies along that unknown lane.
But today the hour is late.
I must take the eastern gate
and go down to sleep as easy as the rain.
All the crimson vines on the wall
are now brushed with hints of fall,
and the wind has swept the western gate with leaves.
In the small rain’s mist, it seems
like a door to warmer dreams
and a way beyond the dark that winter weaves.
I can hear the wind’s wild voice,
as it cries for some new choice—
for a world unspoiled and unwalked paths to roam.
But tomorrow’s chores are plain.
All the common worlds remain.
I must turn my collar up and leave for home.
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7. |
The Children
02:09
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The Children
reimagining “Sir Lionel and the Boar” (c. 1650)
I met a girl all dressed in black.
Comes a cold wind, comes a dark rain.
On empty walks she played at jacks
and touched her toe to every crack.
Comes a cold wind, comes a dark rain.
So sad to play alone, I said.
But she replied, My friends are dead.
I play with ghosts all dressed in red.
Can’t you see the boy who waves?
A place for me he always saves
to sit with him among the graves.
The grass that sways along the hill,
the whispered sigh, cold evening’s chill:
The world is filled with children still.
But one day they will turn for home,
to seek in hearts of human stone
the reason that they died alone.
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Joseph Bottum South Dakota
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