في حضنك الدافئ أجي+ أسكن تحت ظل بيانو

Rain...too little of it and there is drought, too much of it and there are deadly, destructive floods, just the right amount and the earth flourishes; crops grow, gardens bloom, our spirits are refreshed and encouraged.  This song begs the questions; are mankind's plans, philosophies, charitable endeavors, or selfish goals like the rain that can benefit mankind or destroy it?  Do novel ideas work for the moral structure of humanity or is the ancient wisdom better? There are no easy answers to the questions Peter asks in the lyrics, but they are questions we should consider as we see the world aflame--which is another blessing of rain, it can put out fires.
Lyric/poem, singing and narration - Peter The Poet: @ soundcloud.com/user-264930040/tracks
Beautiful guitars left/right - David: @david-dunhamuser589535203
Music, e-guitar, mix, and masterful production - Seagull: @farout-music-studio
The gorgeous female voice: Clara Sorace.

Rain
And so it rains
Will it wash away tomorrow’s hopes,
Leave us stranded in our yesterdays
Clinging to the fraying ropes
Swinging helplessly in vain

And yet it rains
Both the means to life or drowning death
Spilling ‘cross the flooding plains
Sucking out the terminal breath
Forever and again

I stand here naked, cold and blue
Stripped of pride and freedom too
Aspirations drained, subdued
As heaven’s cloudbursts purge me through

And still it rains
Will it cleanse, refresh, renew the truth
Sanitise and ease the pain
Or launder filthy failure’s proof
To try and hide the liar’s stain

And it will rain
While lunatics still yield the whip
Indoctrination’s game remains
The crass politico’s iron grip
Will euthanise our children’s brains

……and so it rains

Rain (with Conny, Peter And David)

Psalm 37:5: "Give yourself to the Lord; trust in him".

I Give It All

No Proof

It seems that each season has its own "perfume of mystery".  In a typical Texas panhandle spring, it is Lilac and Russian Olive that perfume the air.  In the deep South, Magnolias are hypnotically fragrant.  In summer it is the fresh, petrichor air after a rainstorm, or a newly-mown field of hay.  In the fall there is a pungency of fallen leaves as they are raked into piles, and as the days grow cooler, smoke from a fireplace during an evening walk. It is an odor that grows stronger and crisper as winter sets in and the sweet scent of pine with the setting up of Christmas trees.  Dan wanted to capture this "perfume of mystery" with his unique composing and keyboard skills and invited me to come along. Thank you my friend for inviting me.  Hear more of Dan's beautiful and unique "French Fantasy" music @dan-t-3.

Like A Perfume Of Mystery (DAN-DT; composer, keyboards, David; guitars)

01. Zagib - Goin Out West

When the railway runs along the coast, right beside the sea, there are many tunnels. Sometimes they’re so narrow that two tracks must draw near to one another to pass through. That’s how a strange love story begins between them.
This is a song I wrote around the year 2000, one of my last. I think it has a good mood. I’ve remixed and partially rearranged it.
You can still hear the warm tone of the Washburn, along with the old Yamaha’s sounds (including the flute). The sax — reworked by me  — is kindly provided by Dropgun Samples.
Still, as always, everything is very handcrafted.

Below is the English translation of the lyrics.

They converged at the tunnel’s mouth,
suddenly parallel —
twins of the railway.
They looked at each other, studied each other,
just enough
to not quite grasp
how much the one beside you knows of you.
They hesitated, thinking of the road behind:
companions in adventure,
but now unsure why.
And then they stared at the night gaping inside the tunnel:
a magnificent promise
to be traveled on the thread of fantasy.

“Inside this darkness, maybe we will never part,
under this shadow, maybe you’ll finally know me,
after this night, who knows where you’ll fall asleep —
perhaps closer to the sea…”

They parted at the tunnel’s edge,
but a narrow wall concealed a silence
charged with jealousy,
shaped like fear — fear of that strange kind of courtesy,
fear of the light,
fear of the end of the tunnel.
“Parallel track,
mirror born of the railway,
traitorous twin,
lover made of parody.
Don’t tell me that
after this darkness we’ll never part,
that under this shadow you’ll finally touch me,
that after this night, who knows where you’ll take me —
perhaps down by the sea…”

And at the end of that masterpiece of engineering,
only one of them
came rushing out of the tunnel;
on instinct, he turned and saw
that the sea was beside him,
and under the sea, the sky,
and beneath the sky — who knows what lies...

“After this darkness, surely we will never part,
inside this shadow, surely you’ll let go,
after this night, I cannot say where you’ll fall asleep —
perhaps closer to the sea…”

----

Confluirono all'ingresso della galleria
improvvisamente paralleli 
gemelli della ferrovia.
Si guardarono, si studiarono quel tanto che
non basta a misurare sino in fondo
quello che hai di fianco cosa sa di te.
Indugiarono, pensarono alla strada dietro di sé:
compagni di avventura,
ma ora non capivano perché.
E poi guardarono la notte spalancata nella galleria:
magnifica promessa
da viaggiare sul filo della fantasia

"dentro questo buio forse noi non ci separeremo mai,
sotto questo scuro tu finalmente mi conoscerai,
dopo questa notte poi non so dire dove ti addormenterai,
forse più vicino al mare ..."

Si congedarono sulla bocca della galleria,
ma parete stretta nasconde silenzio
fatto a carica di gelosia,
fatto a forma di paura di quella stranissima cortesia,
paura della luce
paura della fine della galleria.
"Binario parallelo,
specchio generato dalla ferrovia,
gemello traditore,
amante da parodia.
Non dirmi che 
dopo questo buio noi non ci separaremo mai,
che sotto questo scuro tu finalmente mi toccherai,
che dopo questa notte poi chissà dove mi accompagnerai,
forse giù vicino al mare ..."

E alla fine di quel capolavoro di ingegneria,
di loro uno solo
usciva di corsa dalla galleria;
d'istinto si voltò e vide che
c'era il mare di fianco a sé,
e sotto il mare il cielo,
e sotto il cielo chissa cosa c'è ...

"dopo questo buio certo noi non ci separeremo mai,
dentro questo scuro tu sicuramente ti abbandonerai,
dopo questa notte poi non so dire dove ti addormenterai,
forse più vicino al mare ..."

----

Composed by Michele Ansani (1999)
Posted on SoundCloud: 2025, May 16

Down by the sea [Viaggio di nozze] *

Composed by Michele Ansani (2025).
Saxophone and female vocals (reworked) are courtesy by Daze of Nostalgia and Cinematic Vocals.
Cover picture: René Magritte, The Art of Conversation (1963).

Posted on SoundCloud:  2025 June 1.

Talking about our lifetime

Unfortunately, the connection has dropped, and we cannot be sure what is happening in the apartment where, at such a late hour, the light is still on. Probably nothing; they’re likely watching a film or reading a book. They might be projecting their reactions outward, and what we see could therefore be nothing more than the reflection of someone else’s nightmares — or dreams. Certainly, we have now reached a turning point: nothing can any longer be regarded as real, or the opposite... (all talk!).

This is the fifth in a series of eight easy, acoustic, rather short, and deliberately inconclusive tracks, assembled by combining new ideas with reworked older material, adding parts and sounds along the way. 

Part 1 here: https://soundcloud.com/michele-ansani/in-case-nothing-happens-part-1-night
Part 2 here: https://soundcloud.com/michele-ansani/in-case-nothing-happens-part-2-dawn
Part 3 here: https://soundcloud.com/michele-ansani/in-case-nothing-happens-part-3-noon
Part 4 here: https://soundcloud.com/michele-ansani/in-case-nothing-happens-part-4-late-afternoon

Composed by Michele Ansani (2023-2025). This time I simply redid a piano-based piece I had posted in the spring of last year, slightly changing the atmosphere: https://soundcloud.com/michele-ansani/overlays
All the ambient noises and female vocals are taken from public sound archives. 
Posted on SoundCloud: 2025, October 16.

13 - The Bottom of the Sandbox

Zagib