A Sparrow Found (1917) - V2
Posted: 25 Oct 2019, 16:25
A Sparrow Found (1917)
"I liked to watch her sleep; she slept like a baby."
Simone (Momone) Berteaut, Piaf, Opera Mundi, Paris, 1969.
The hiss of steam from the coffee machine,
a gurgle of absinthe into a glass, the rattle
of coins on the counter, sharp, penetrable.
The whish of starched linen from a serveuse’s apron.
The smell of wine and lager, of food prepared,
the accord of the piano, the thrill of sound,
of music and of song feeding
my mind and my heart.
Imagine, Momone, all this without the splash of colour
without light and contrast, just a void when I was blind.
I saw life for the first five years of my life by hearing.
Imagine a night sky with no moon, no stars
an universe that goes on forever in darkness
a black hole in my life.
They say, Momone, there are places where people
shut out the light and meditate in silence.
Oh Momone! what horror there, just emptiness, no life.
Just Oma Mena to care for me, to live off scraps
loved but unwashed, Opu soused in red wine.
Mena servicing poor workmen in the bistros of the night.
I would sing those songs in delight, I’d memorised them all.
Such beauty in the refrains dancing through my mind
and then Oma's gentle admonishment,
“Sleep now Edith, stop singing; it's time to sleep.”
*****
"I liked to watch her sleep; she slept like a baby."
Simone (Momone) Berteaut, Piaf, Opera Mundi, Paris, 1969
The hiss of steam of the coffee machine
a gurgle of absinthe into a glass
the rattle of coins on the counter, sharp, penetrable,
a stroke of linen from the serveuse’s apron.
The smell of wine and lager of food prepared,
the accord of the piano and accordion,
the divine sound of music and song
feeding my mind and my heart.
Imagine Momone, all this without the splash of colour
without light and contrast, just the void
Imagine a night sky with no moon, no stars;
an universe that goes on forever in darkness,
a black hole in my life.
They say Momone there are places where people
shut out the light and meditate in silence.
Oh Momone! what horror there, just emptiness, no life
Just Oma Mena to care for me, to live off scraps,
loved but unwashed, Opu soused in red wine.
Mena servicing poor workmen in the bistros of the nights.
I would sing those songs in delight, I’d memorised them all,
the thrill of the refrains dancing through my mind,
and then Oma Mena's gentle admonishments,
“Sleep now Edith, stop singing it's time to sleep.”
"I liked to watch her sleep; she slept like a baby."
Simone (Momone) Berteaut, Piaf, Opera Mundi, Paris, 1969.
The hiss of steam from the coffee machine,
a gurgle of absinthe into a glass, the rattle
of coins on the counter, sharp, penetrable.
The whish of starched linen from a serveuse’s apron.
The smell of wine and lager, of food prepared,
the accord of the piano, the thrill of sound,
of music and of song feeding
my mind and my heart.
Imagine, Momone, all this without the splash of colour
without light and contrast, just a void when I was blind.
I saw life for the first five years of my life by hearing.
Imagine a night sky with no moon, no stars
an universe that goes on forever in darkness
a black hole in my life.
They say, Momone, there are places where people
shut out the light and meditate in silence.
Oh Momone! what horror there, just emptiness, no life.
Just Oma Mena to care for me, to live off scraps
loved but unwashed, Opu soused in red wine.
Mena servicing poor workmen in the bistros of the night.
I would sing those songs in delight, I’d memorised them all.
Such beauty in the refrains dancing through my mind
and then Oma's gentle admonishment,
“Sleep now Edith, stop singing; it's time to sleep.”
*****
"I liked to watch her sleep; she slept like a baby."
Simone (Momone) Berteaut, Piaf, Opera Mundi, Paris, 1969
The hiss of steam of the coffee machine
a gurgle of absinthe into a glass
the rattle of coins on the counter, sharp, penetrable,
a stroke of linen from the serveuse’s apron.
The smell of wine and lager of food prepared,
the accord of the piano and accordion,
the divine sound of music and song
feeding my mind and my heart.
Imagine Momone, all this without the splash of colour
without light and contrast, just the void
Imagine a night sky with no moon, no stars;
an universe that goes on forever in darkness,
a black hole in my life.
They say Momone there are places where people
shut out the light and meditate in silence.
Oh Momone! what horror there, just emptiness, no life
Just Oma Mena to care for me, to live off scraps,
loved but unwashed, Opu soused in red wine.
Mena servicing poor workmen in the bistros of the nights.
I would sing those songs in delight, I’d memorised them all,
the thrill of the refrains dancing through my mind,
and then Oma Mena's gentle admonishments,
“Sleep now Edith, stop singing it's time to sleep.”