Moonspell Bloodlines: Ancient Greek Music

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Monday, March 18, 2013

Ancient Greek Music - Paean and Processional

Posted by Cody Cochran (Moonspell Bloodlines) at 6:00 PM

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Cody Cochran (Moonspell Bloodlines): I am all about the classics. I am a "classy" goth if you will, I like love classical literature of the Romans, and neo-classical literature as well. My religion is Religio Romana, I believe in the Roman Gods, I believe we are all equal human beings and that we should treat everybody like how you want to be treated.I am eccentric, so anybody who doesn't like it will have to deal with it, weird is the new normal, so to speak.

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Iuno Camena (Juno Poetry)

Aestas demanat tergum in focus denuo iterum, et Iuno
consumit lunasine noctes vergens tergum in reversatum-
oleum imaginis somnum, consopitum lubricum colfe cunis. Illa
somniorum pix libera, rivangatum ab profundum, sugentens
pollices et digitos quod extende aequorilaxum cum aestum.
Singulis clamor est depressam ad somnum, dum aliquis miscete
et biascicate excusat circa pisciossa deprendit in iugula
et quomodo nemo scitum incubones posset aquae supernatet.

Tantum cum calcanea conglutinatum simul poterant picem libera
transfera runas aequori retundendum in ruinas
sui praeterita aut intellige quomodo mittentes hydrocarboneum -illaque
salebras in aequor pavimentum est vulnerata litorem. Et solum Iunoni,
manus-on-cor-on-manica (-Reginae kerosene, deum inspirata
libera et omnis marinus casualitas quod dormientium nimis cito-) possit intellegeretit
cur interiores Telluri ubi extirpatum suam in consectationis
obstinatii plasticum res.

Translatio:

Summer seeps back into focus once again, and Juno spends the moonless nights bending back into spilt-oil images of sleep, lulled slick in a gulf cradle. She dreams of tar babies, dredged from the deep, sucking thumbs and fingers that spread oceanwide with the tide. Each cry is sunken to a slumber, whilst someone shuffles and mumbles excuses about fishbones caught in throats

and how no-one knew nightmares could float on water.

Only with heels congealed together could the tar children translate the runes of an ocean beaten back into the ruins of its own past, or understand how casting hydrocarbon-cut ruts in the sea floor has scarred the shore. And only Juno, hand-on-heart-on-sleeve (-Queen of kerosene, the god-breathed babies and every marine casualty that slept too soon-) can realise why the insides of the earth were uprooted in the pursuit of persistently plastic thing

Minerva Camena (Minerva Poetry)

Aurora, et Minerva murmura ab fluminiripam.
Illa vigilans scroae hyacinthinum caligo trahe stagnum,
expedata reliquiarum mersum orbis in sua vigilent:
fulgori piscis-cauda squamas, lacerique folia delectii littera.
in inflatum moli plasticum pera.

Suscipit fragmini singula et inscribunt eis in ea librum
rerum tulit historiae ab delecti loculos
temporis. Habet uterque argumentem vacui: ustem penna; inanem
cochlea concha. membrum tortosque arboris. singulis canit
cum sua confractum tibians, sua fractura camena.

Quando rivulum ubi es butina et occursum rivangunt sursum
aurorae tributum, Minervae est in extremis, expectans evellere
hi fragmentorum perplexis memorias ab alto.
Illa miratur singula scientifica inventio inveni quasi noctem
mordent descenderat in die, et fractum sonorum tempus itinera
singula reliquia facit in somnum.

Translatio:

Dawn, and Minerva murmurs from the riverbank. She's watching scrolls of blue mist drag the lake, unfurling remnants of a drowned world in its wake: a glint of fish-tail scales, the torn leaves of love letters, the bloated bulk of a plastic bag. She takes a piece of each and logs them in her book of things she took from history, picked from the pockets of time. Each has a story to tell: a singed feather; an empty snail shell. The twisted limb of a tree. Each sings with its own broken flutings, its own fractured poetry.

When the rivulet where we are borne and met dredges up the dawn's tribute, Minerva's on the edge, waiting to pluck these fragments of convoluted memories from the deep. She marvels at each scientific discovery found as the night bites down on day, and the shattered sounds of time travel each relic makes in sleep.

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Monday, March 18, 2013

Ancient Greek Music - Paean and Processional

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