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Robert Louis Stevenson – She Rested By the Broken Brook

She rested by the Broken Brook,
She drank of Weary Well,
She moved beyond my lingering look,
Ah, whither none can tell!

She came, she went. In other lands,
Perchance in fairer skies,
Her hands shall cling with other hands,
Her eyes to other eyes.

«She vanished. In the sounding town,
Will she remember too?
Will she recall the eyes of brown
As I recall the blue?

Francesco Patavino – Dilla da l’Acqua in Italian and Ukrainian

Dilla da l’Acqua is a 16th c. song deploring the fate of a lover who has to overcome the tricks of an obnoxious guardian that protects his beloved. The guardian is not spared every imaginable epithet, including a “pig’s face”. I first heard it interpreted by the British chamber music orchestra, Orlando Consort.

The piece belongs to the 16th c. Italian composer Francesco Patavino (c. 1478-c.1556) from Santa Croce in Padua. He was a rather important figure in the realm of sacred music of the Italian Renaissance and introduced the principle of a “broken choir”, then widely used by the Venetian school of polyphonic composition. Dilla da l’acqua must be one of the seven “profane” pieces that Patavino composed in his lifetime. He died in Loreto (Ancona) around the year 1556.

Scottish Memories

On occasion of the International Women’s Day a few days ago I came across a photo on the House of Scotland page on Facebook, which turned to be a pleasant sight to see for many of my lady friends. Indeed what’s not to like? Long hair, a beard and mustache, and even a kilt and some leather. Just perfect.

When I went to Edinburgh last year I also bought myself a tartan scarf and a sporran, which is Scottish Gaelic for “purse”. You can see it in the picture. The shop I went in was run by an Eastern European guy who, when I entered, was serving a group of Italian women who were buying ladies’ kilts, their interpreter being a girl of 11, of their party, too. He happened to visit Manchester once for a football match, though sadly he somehow ended up going for a drink to a gay-friendly bar, which put him off Manchester. But the funniest moment was when he started discouraging people from going to other shops “because they were all owned by the Pakistanis and Indians”. “There are not many authentic shops left”, he was explaining in a noticeable Eastern European accent… I’ll leave it to you to contemplate the irony of the story.
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