Look around. Let Nature nurture your Soul. I record images I sense and share them here. |
NURTURE your NATURE ![]() Nature can nurture our writing, can nurture our soul. What is the language of Nature? And how do we learn it? We look at the natural wonders around us and do not see them, hear, taste nor smell them. They do not touch us anymore than we dare touch them. And then we wonder why we feel so dead. To breathe in and live like a child again opens the Land of Wonderment. It's still there after all these years. |
This isn't the version I remember. "Choucoune" is a Haitian poem going back to the 1880s. It has spawned many versions. Harry Belafonte had a well-known version and there are others with steelpan drums. But this version will do. We sang it in high-school chorus in the 1960s. I doubt if we did it with a calypso flair. Like so many attempts to expand our horizons beyond Bach, we were still a German-American factory town. Lyrics Yellow Bird Up high in banana tree Yellow Bird You sit all alone like me Did your lady friend Leave your nest again This is very sad Makes me feel so bad You can fly away In the sky away You're more lucky than me I also had a pretty girl She's not with me today They're all the same The pretty girls Take tenderness Then they fly away Yellow Bird Up high in banana tree Yellow Bird You sit all alone like me Let her fly away In the sky away Pick a town and soon Take from night to noon Black and yellow you Like banana too They might pick you someday Wish that I were a yellow bird I'd fly away with you But I am not a yellow bird So here I sit Nothing else to do Yellow Bird Yellow Bird Yellow Bird |