An ancient muse.


In ricordo del concerto a Bologna del 21 marzo 2007: un’emozione bellissima.

“The Old Ways” Loreena McKennitt

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.
On a dark new year’s night
On the west coast of Clare
I hear your voice singing
Your eyes danced the song
Your hands played the tune
T’was a vision before me.

We left the music behind and the dance carried on
As we stole away to the seashore
We smelt the brine, felt the wind in our hair
With sadness you paused.

Suddenly I knew that you’d have to go
Your world was not mine, your eyes told me so
Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time
And I wondered why.

As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea
A vision came o’er me
Of thundering hooves and beating wings
In clouds above.

As you turned to go I heard you call my name.
You were like a bird in a cage, spreading its
Wings to fly
“The old ways are lost” you sang as you flew
And I wondered why.

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.
The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.
The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.


Miss Bailing

Informazioni su Miss Bailing

Gypsetter, sognatrice, viaggiatrice entusiasta ed instancabile. La mia passione più grande sono i cavalli e il mio tesoro è Sero, un sauro di 30 anni con cui ho condiviso buona parte della mia esistenza. Come Emma Bovary anche io oscillo perennemente tra il mio lato mistico (che vorrebbe ritirarsi a meditare in un ashram indiano) e quello bohémien, il cui sogno nel cassetto è una chambre de bonne nel Marais.

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