Songs not just mine

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Mildir
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Songs not just mine

Post by Mildir » Thu May 24, 2018 9:45 pm

Mildir wrote:
Thu May 24, 2018 1:57 pm
Mildir wrote:
Tue May 22, 2018 3:58 pm
[...]You have to know that, since I was only 6, I used to sing those that my mother called “my songs”.
She has always assumed that they were invented songs, because the lyrics were, well, weird.
I didn’t sing in any known language, people around me often said I sang “in gibberish”.
Deep down inside, though, I knew that I hadn’t just invented those songs: I was trying to remember.
There had always been strange echoes in my mind, ever since I was born.
Echoes of beautiful voices, talking, laughing, singing.
I’d never heard such sweet voices in my life, I’d never heard such songs, so I came to a simple conclusion: I was having memories from another life.
Maybe a previous life.
Trying to sing those songs, even if I didn’t know the meaning (nor, often, the precise form) of the words, was my way of keeping those memories alive.[...]
Many years later I'd succeed in identifying the precise form and the precise meaning of every word of many of those songs.
I'd begin to see - in my mind - images of people who sang them.
I'd begin to hear - in my mind - voices of people who talked about them and attributed titles to them (like when you say to a friend: "Have you ever heard Twinkle Twinkle Little Star ?").
And then there was another kind of songs: the ones I read in the books by J.R.R. Tolkien (which I discovered only at 16) and, somehow, I recognized.
When I saw the lyrics, the melody - often along with images and feelings - slowly came to my mind, as if it were just hidden in my memory.

Take the poem which J.R.R. Tolkien calls Markirya: in one of my yet unverified visions, which I identify as memories (because I know I was there as much as I know I was there when I think back to the moment I lost my first tooth in this life. I just can't prove it, for now), I can clearly see three elvish musicians singing a song which has the same exact words as the last version of this poem.
One plays a sort of cello, one plays a flute and one sings.
This is the song he sings (I tried to sing it as best I could):



For those of you who don't know it, I'll put the original version of the poem below.
It's in Tolkien's early Quenya.
The English translation, as usual, follows.

MARKIRYA (EARLY QUENYA VERSION)

Man cenuva fána cirya
métima hrestallo círa,
i fairi néce
ringa súmaryasse
ve maiwi yaimie?

Man tiruva fána cirya,
wilwarin wilwa,
ear-celumessen
rámainen elvie
ear falastala,
winga hlápula
rámar sisílala,
cále fifírula?

Man hlaruva rávea súre
ve tauri lillassie,
ninqui carcar yarra
isilme ilcalasse,
isilme pícalasse,
isilme lantalasse
ve loicolícuma;
raumo nurrua,
undume rúma?

Man cenuva lumbor ahosta
Menel acúna
ruxal’ ambonnar,
ear amortala,
undume hácala,
enwina lúme
elenillor pella
talta-taltala
atalantie mindonnar?

Man tiruva rácina cirya
ondolisse morne
nu fanyare rúcina,
anar púrea tihta
axor ilcalannar
métim’ auresse?

Man cenuva métim’ andúne?
-----------------------------------------------------

MARKIRYA (ENGLISH VERSION)

Who shall see a white ship
from the final beach steering,
the vague phantoms
in her cold bosom
like gulls wailing?

Who shall heed a white ship
like a butterfly fluttering,
in the flowing sea
on star-like wings,
the sea foaming,
the foam flying in the wind,
the wings shining white,
the light slowly fading?

Who shall hear the roaring wind
like the many leaves of the forests,
the white rocks growling
in the gleaming moonlight,
in the dwindling moonlight,
in the falling moonlight
like a corpse-candle;
the storm grumble,
the abyss move?

Who shall see the clouds assemble,
the Heavens bending
upon crumbling hills,
the sea heaving,
the abyss yawning,
the old darkness
from beyond the stars
sliding down and collapsing
upon lofty ruined towers?

Who shall heed a broken ship
on the many black rocks
under shattered skies,
a discoloured sun blinking
on bones gleaming
in the last down?

Who shall see the last evening?


P.S.: I sing a bit faster than the singer in my alleged memory.
P.P.S.: And in my alleged memory the singer was using a very old language, not the Quenya he would have used every day.
It was as if someone sings in Latin in our world... a very old Latin...
Our myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily towards the true harbour, while materialistic 'progress' leads only to a yawning abyss and the Iron Crown of the power of evil. (J.R.R. Tolkien)

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Mildir
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Re: Songs not just mine

Post by Mildir » Sat May 26, 2018 2:22 pm

Mildir wrote:
Thu May 24, 2018 1:57 pm
And then there was another kind of songs: the ones I read in the books by J.R.R. Tolkien (which I discovered only at 16) and, somehow, I recognized.
When I saw the lyrics, the melody - often along with images and feelings - slowly came to my mind, as if it were just hidden in my memory.
In a couple of cases, though, it wasn't just about the melody of a song: I also "rediscovered" those which I identified as the original lyrics of that song.
As most of you certainly know, J.R.R. Tolkien never devised Sindarin lyrics for such songs as the lays of Beleriand: he just gave us the English versions.
And when I read some of them it was like coming across something I already knew: only, I knew it in Mithren (i.e.: the Sindarin of my unverified memories and the same language as the one spoken by L. Haldeson).

I remember - even though I can't prove the validity of this memory - that in another life I knew much of the Lay of Leithian by heart... and I sang it! :)
And this memory - which sadly remains only alleged, for now - has surfaced just when I began to read Tolkien's poetry.
It is not just visual, but also conceptual: in fact, it's intrinsic in the memory itself that the Lay of Leithian has been composed approximately at the end of the First Age of Beleriand (that means that, when I sang it, I was singing in a very old form of Mithren) and that bards used to sing it at night, standing in front of a small crowd of listeners sitting in a circle around a fire, all out in the open.
Also, bards used to add a little intro to the bare lyrics of the song, in order to gain everyone's whole attention before starting to intone the real lay.

Anyway, the memory also includes the melody of the Lay of Leithian and part of the lyrics: the little intro and the first three stanzas, to be precise.
Here they are, as my inside tells I sang them in another life (by the way: in the video I first recite the intro without singing and then I sing it along with the three stanzas):



Below you can find the Mithren lyrics.
I've decided to put an English translation of every stanza (including the intro) under the stanza itself.
The translation is based on J.R.R. Tolkien's last version of the Lay of Leithian but it is not literal.
And you will surely notice that the stanzas are somewhat different from the ones composed by Tolkien.
I cannot explain this difference, I can only report everything as I received it from my inside.

LIRETH LEITHIAN (THE LAY OF LEITHIAN)

In-Ithil am men Eruchín
menelvir síla diriel…
Sí loth a galadh lasto ! Dín !
A hir Annún, Gilthoniel,
le linnon en-Dinuviel.


A celestial moongleam
is watchfully shining upon us,
children of Eru…
Now, listen, you flower and tree ! Silence!
By Elbereth, the lady of the West,
I will sing you about Tinuviel.

Aen aran min oer iorui,
no Ædain or chae wandanner.
Sau chelos, ping, a niphren nurch,
a damman ang be remm o lhurch.
Sen illen ærn a chenui mell
min lú min Elendor o iell,
an min in-winn Ædain anvae.


A king there was in days of old,
ere Men yet walked upon the mould.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
and metal wrought like fishes’ mail.
All these he had and loved them less
than a maiden once in Elfinesse,
for fairer than are born to Men.

Ienn arne hon, e Luthien.
O das na Forth i-Ndor en-Ulch,
na ion wandanner erui rych.
Na Harth i-úgenian ladui ndor.
Na Ndún en-iorui gaer i-ror,
pen gir a chress, a vreg ar oss.
Lhuin eig na Rún das aner hoss.


A daughter had he, Luthien.
To North there lay the Land of Dread,
which only demons used to tread.
To South the wide earth unexplored.
To West the ancient Ocean roared,
unsailed and shoreless, wide and wild.
To East blue peakes were gently piled.

Id lais aen ann a halag leg,
tan Daeron cærn od leber neg,
be leithan orchal min i-chinn,
mil wannel orui ranui linn.
Med nun i-anor wannen or,
id ællin elir thull vi ndor.


When leaves were long and grass was green,
then Daeron with his fingers lean,
as daylight melted into shade,
a wandering music sweetly made.
Until a day beneath the sun,
when many marvels were begun.
Our myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily towards the true harbour, while materialistic 'progress' leads only to a yawning abyss and the Iron Crown of the power of evil. (J.R.R. Tolkien)

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