by \u00a0Antonio Carlos Jobim<\/strong><\/p>\n listen here! – \u00a0waters of March<\/a><\/p>\n (This is Art Garfunkels version there’s another beautiful version by\u00a0TOM JOBIM & ELIS REGINA \u00a0down at the bottom)<\/p>\n Art Garfunkel \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Antonio Carlos Jobim<\/p>\n <\/p>\n To me it’s got everything you want – melodic, simple and profound.<\/p>\n My Brazilian friend Nando tells me it was originally about everything that floated downstream after a devastating Spring flood; which is surprising because being a bossa nova it sounds like a fairly laid-back disaster.<\/p>\n I first heard because\u00a0my parents \u00a0used to pirate-record albums from Plymouth\u00a0record library, fitting them onto a C90 cassette by taking out the duff\u00a0songs. \u00a0This made the cut; it reminded me then of picture dictionaries \u00a0‘A stick, a stone’ etc. \u00a0It feels like a listed celebration of the mundane ‘a truck load of bricks in the soft morning light’ , ‘the plan of the house, the body in bed’ beautiful clear images; to me a least as beautiful as a William Carlos William poem like ‘the red wheelbarrow.’ \u00a0and all these images\u00a0exist within the repeated refrain of nature ‘ and the riverbank talks of\u00a0the waters of March…’ \u00a0The continuation of life in and through all change. \u00a0it’s poetic but with bright simplicity.<\/p>\n I suppose the instrumentation on this version may feel a little dated but Art Garfunkels \u00a0wry monotone delivery fits, it’s observational not emotional and more beautiful for that.<\/p>\n To me it says the most important things are small things in your everyday life; notice them and enjoy them before you yourself have to drop out of their cycle. It winds up into a great resolution \u00a0‘the end of the run …the end of all strain\/ it’s the joy in your heart’<\/p>\n You know it’s all \u00a0a great minimalist poem, \u00a0here it is:<\/p>\n A stick, a stone, It’s a sliver of glass, The oak when it blooms, The wood of the wind, It’s the wind blowing free, And the river bank talks The foot, the ground, A fish, a flash, The bed of the well, A spear, a spike, A truckload of bricks A mile, a must, The plan of the house, Afloat, adrift, And the riverbank talks A stick, a stone, A snake, a stick, A point, a grain, A pin, a needle, A pass in the mountains, And the riverbank talks A stick, a stone, A sliver of glass, And the riverbank talks Not bad for a popular song.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Next time though something more stupid – Promise!!<\/p>\n As promised\u00a0 I I couldn’t ignore this version\u00a0\u00a0it may be in Portuguese but \u00a0so fluid, and they’re\u00a0just loving singing together – Watch it Watch it!!<\/p>\n https:\/\/youtu.be\/Qle1OrunKnE<\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" As a songwriter of sorts I want to write a bit about some of my favourite songs – things I wish I’d written or made me want to write in the first place. Some are clever, some are stupid, some are old some are new. \u00a0Either way they’re all brilliant in their own way. \u00a0The … Continue reading 100 of my favourite songs: the Waters of March<\/span> ![\"garfunkel-art-5346959715eb5\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.vincentburke.co.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/04\/garfunkel-art-5346959715eb5-300x300.jpg?resize=300%2C300\")
<\/a>![\"tom-jobim_101\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.vincentburke.co.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/04\/tom-jobim_101-300x300.jpg?resize=300%2C300\")
<\/a><\/p>\n
\nIt’s the end of the road,
\nIt’s the rest of a stump,
\nIt’s a little alone<\/p>\n
\nIt is life, it’s the sun,
\nIt is night, it is death,
\nIt’s a trap, it’s a gun<\/p>\n
\nA fox in the brush,
\nA knot in the wood,
\nThe song of a thrush<\/p>\n
\nA cliff, a fall,
\nA scratch, a lump,
\nIt is nothing at all<\/p>\n
\nIt’s the end of the slope,
\nIt’s a beam, it’s a void,
\nIt’s a hunch, it’s a hope<\/p>\n
\nof the waters of March,
\nIt’s the end of the strain,
\nThe joy in your heart<\/p>\n
\nThe flesh and the bone,
\nThe beat of the road,
\nA slingshot’s stone<\/p>\n
\nA silvery glow,
\nA fight, a bet,
\nThe range of a bow<\/p>\n
\nThe end of the line,
\nThe dismay in the face,
\nIt’s a loss, it’s a find<\/p>\n
\nA point, a nail,
\nA drip, a drop,
\nThe end of the tale<\/p>\n
\nin the soft morning light,
\nThe shot of a gun
\nin the dead of the night<\/p>\n
\nA thrust, a bump,
\nIt’s a girl, it’s a rhyme,
\nIt’s a cold, it’s the mumps<\/p>\n
\nThe body in bed,
\nAnd the car that got stuck,
\nIt’s the mud, it’s the mud<\/p>\n
\nA flight, a wing,
\nA hawk, a quail,
\nThe promise of spring<\/p>\n
\nof the waters of March,
\nIt’s the promise of life
\nIt’s the joy in your heart<\/p>\n
\nIt’s the end of the road
\nIt’s the rest of a stump,
\nIt’s a little alone<\/p>\n
\nIt is John, it is Joe,
\nIt’s a thorn in your hand
\nand a cut in your toe<\/p>\n
\nA bee, a bite,
\nA blink, a buzzard,
\nA sudden stroke of night<\/p>\n
\nA sting, a pain,
\nA snail, a riddle,
\nA wasp, a stain<\/p>\n
\nA horse and a mule,
\nIn the distance the shelves
\nrode three shadows of blue<\/p>\n
\nof the waters of March,
\nIt’s the promise of life
\nin your heart, in your heart<\/p>\n
\nThe end of the road,
\nThe rest of a stump,
\nA lonesome road<\/p>\n
\nA life, the sun,
\nA knife, a death,
\nThe end of the run<\/p>\n
\nof the waters of March,
\nIt’s the end of all strain,
\nIt’s the joy in your heart.<\/p>\n