Posts tagged: Kate Bush
Et même si j’ai déjà posté cette chanson (ou du moins un bout) grâce la jolie vidéo qui l’accompagnait, voici Lake Tahoe, dont l’histoire me touche.
Une femme, portant un robe victorienne, attend, au bord d’un lac, immobile comme un poupée de porcelaine, son chien. Qui rêve de qui ?
Lake Tahoe
Cold mountain water
Don’t ever swim there
Just stand on the edge and look in there
And you might see a woman down there
They say some days, up she comes, up she rises, as if out of nowhere
Wearing Victorian dress.
She was calling her pet, “Snowflake! Snowflake!”
Tumbling like a cloud that has drowned in the lake
Just like a poor, porcelain doll…
Her eyes are open but no-one’s home
The clock has stopped
So long she’s gone
No-one’s home
Her old dog is sleeping
His legs are frail now
But when he dreams,
He runs…
Along long beaches and sticky fields
Through the Spooky Wood looking for her
The beds are made. The table is laid
The door is open - someone is calling: It’s a woman
“Here boy, here boy! You’ve come home!
I’ve got an old bone and a biscuit and so much love
Miss me? Did you miss me?
Here’s the kitchen - There’s your basket
Here’s the hall - That’s where you wait for me
Here’s the bedroom - You’re not allowed in there
Here’s my lap - That’s where you lay your head
Here boy, oh you’re a good boy
You’ve come home
You’ve come home
Illustration de Kay Nielsen.
Kate Bush - “Lake Tahoe” (2011)
cold mountain water; don’t ever swim there
just stand on the edge and look in there
and you might see a woman down there
Voici donc la chanson du dimanche soir enneigé : Misty.
Où l’amour physique avec un bonhomme de neige s’avère sans issue, et devient la métaphore d’un amour rêvé que la nuit induit.
J’aime les mots qu’elle choisit.
Roll his body
Give him eyes
Make him smile for me,
Give him life
My hand is bleeding,
I run back inside
I turn off the light,
Switch on a starry night
My window flies open
My bedroom fills with falling snow,
Should be a dream but I’m not sleepy
I see his snowy white face but I’m not afraid
He lies down beside me
So cold next to me
I can feel him melting in my hand
Melting, in my hand
He won’t speak to me
His crooked mouth is full of dead leaves
Full of dead leaves, bits of twisted branches and frozen garden,
Crushed and stolen grasses from slumbering lawn
He is dissolving, dissolving before me and dawn will come soon
What kind of spirit is this?
Our one and only tryst
His breath all misty,
And when I kiss his ice-cream lips
And his creamy skin,
His snowy white arms surround me
So cold next to me
I can feel him melting in my hand
Melting, melting, in my hand
Sunday morning
I can’t find him
The sheets are soaking
And on my pillow
Dead leaves, bits of twisted branches and frozen garden,
Crushed and stolen grasses from slumbering lawn
I can’t find him - misty
Oh please can you help me?
He must be somewhere
Open window closing,
Oh but wait, it’s still snowing
If you’re out there,
I’m coming out on the ledge
I’m going out on the ledge
Illustration de Lisa Evans (détail). J’aime la naïveté et le premier degré de ce dessin, comme dans les contes.
Kate Bush - “Misty” (2011)
i can feel him melting in my hand; melting, in my hand
he won’t speak to me
his crooked mouth is full of dead leaves
Enfin il a neigé! Alors je voulais vous redonner un peu du Kate Bush qui a fait cet hiver un très bel album sur ce sujet.
Et puis j’ai trouvé cette belle illustration, de Lisa Evans, qui a servi de visuel au magazine Mojo consacré à l’album de Kate Bush, 50 Words For Snow. On aperçoit en effet une mère et son fils (Snowflake), un bonhomme de neige (Misty), et la silhouette d’un Wild Man, et la lune, témoin complice de ces amours gris-bleutés.
Folio’s Lisa Evans has created this beautiful and haunting illustration of Kate Bush for MOJO magazine to accompany their article on her new album ‘50 Words For Snow’. For more of Lisa’s work click the image!
