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The Listening Chamber


Andrew Meit And Death Shall Have No Dominion
Sonnet XXIX
Bold Friend
Acquainted with the Night
Marta Esperandote
Esto Es Amor
Michelle K I Want
The Confirmation
To Anthea, Who May Command Him Anything
Robin G All the World's a Stage
Wayne the Beast Introduction
Annie's Song
Everything I Do
Longer
Now and Forever
The Rose
Won't Last a Day



And Death Shall Have No Dominion, by Dylan Thomas
read by Andrew Meit

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.


Sonnet XXIX, by William Shakespeare
read by Andrew Meit

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.


Bold Friend
Read by Andrew Meit

for Vincent

Bold friend, speak and it shall be
Uttering breath of hope, of faith, and of love.
By the incarnate that mirrors we
Utmost my painful painting of words above.
Bounded ever unless it's set free.
Until by grace's imaginative dove
Bounded is my presence to thee
Unto like a winter's warm glove.
Boding prophecy I seeking see
Union try part generated in groove
Bower of bliss of ode do we
Unison of participation does Eros move
Bolting flesh to flesh in sweat sea.
Uniting images in holy groove
Boarding, temporarily, desires and she


Acquainted with the Night, by Robert Frost
read by Andrew Meit

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.


Esperándote, by Tomás Segovia
read by Marta

Me he preguntado al fin cómo es posible
que todas estas horas que me paso sin ti
estén también llenas de ti.
Y he creído entender que mi deseo de que estés las llena.

Que no son horas sin sabor ni peso
que son horas de espera
y también vive quien vive de esperar,
pero no es eso.

No podrían estar así mis horas,
tan llenas como están de tu figura;
es tu deseo de venir a mí,
tu nostalgia de estar aquí conmigo,
lo que en verdad salva mis horas
y redime mi espera.

Esto Es Amor, by Lope de Vega
read by Marta

Desmayarse, atreverse, estar furioso,
áspero, tierno, liberal, esquivo,
alentado, mortal, difunto, vivo,
leal, traidor, cobarde y animoso;
no hallar fuera del bien, centro y reposo,
mostrarse alegre, triste, humilde, altivo
enojado, valiente, fugitivo,
satisfecho, ofendido, receloso

huir el rostro al claro desengaño,
beber veneno por licor suave,
olvidar el provecho, amar el daño

creer que un cielo en un infierno cabe
dar la vida y el alma a un desengaño,
Esto es Amor; quien lo probó, lo sabe.

Translation:
What is love?
To faint, to dare, to be furious,
rough, tender, aloof, generous,
courageous, mortal, dead, alive,
loyal, cowardly, treacherous.
Not to find beyond your lover, satisfaction or peace.
To look happy, sad, humble, arrogant,
angry, valiant, fugitive,
satisfied, offended, distrustful.
To turn your face from clear proofs of deceit,
To drink poison as if it were a soothing liquor,
To disregard gain and delight in being injured.
To believe that heaven can lie contained in hell;
To devote your life and soul to being disillusioned;
This is love; whoever has tasted it, knows.

I Want, by Federico Garcia Lorca
(translated from the Spanish by Michael Schmidt)
read by Michelle K

… only your hot heart
and nothing more.

My paradise field
without a nightingale
or lyres,
with an unobtrusive stream
and a modest fountainhead.

Without the spur of breeze
troubling the leaves,
without the star that longs
itself to be a leaf.

One enormous light
to be
the firefly
of one bigger still
in a field of broken gazes.

A clear place of repose
and there our kissing,
loud specks shed by
echo,
would flower far abroad.

And your hot heart
and nothing more.


The Confirmation, by Edwin Muir
read by Michelle K

Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face,
I in my mind had waited for this long,
Seeing the false and searching for the true,
Then found you as a traveller finds a place
Of welcome suddenly amid the wrong
Valleys and rocks and twisting roads. But you,
What shall I call you? A fountain in a waste,
A well of water in a country dry,
Or anything that's honest and good, an eye
That makes the whole world bright. Your open heart,
Simple with giving, gives the primal deed,
The first good world, the blossom, the blowing seed,
The hearth, the steadfast land, the wandering sea,
Not beautiful or rare in every part,
But like yourself, as they were meant to be.


To Anthea, who may Command him Anything, by Robert Herrick
read by Michelle K

Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy protestant to be;
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free,
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
To honour thy decree;
Or bid it languish quite away,
And 't shall do so for thee.
 
Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see;
And having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree;
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me;
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.


All the World's a Stage, by Shakespeare
read by Robin G

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.


Song lyrics as poems
read by Wayne the Beast

Introduction
Annie's Song
Everything I Do
Longer
Now and Forever
The Rose
Won't Last a Day
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