Fortuna, I am a spear fisherman - Blackbird Raum

Album: Purse-Seine, 2007
http://www.blackpowderrecords.com/raum/

The monologue at the end is a poem.

The Purse Seine

by Robinson Jeffers

Our sardine fishermen work at night in the dark of the moon; daylight or moonlight
They could not tell where to spread the net, unable to see the phosphorescence of the shoals of fish.
They work northward from Monterey, coasting Santa Cruz; off New Year's Point or off Pigeon Point
The look-out man will see some lakes of milk-color light on the sea's night-purple; he points and the helmsman
Turns the dark prow, the motorboat circles the gleaming shoal and drifts out her seine-net. They close the circle
And purse the bottom of the net, then with great labor haul it in. I cannot tell you
How beautiful the scene is, and a little terrible, then, when the crowded fish
Know they are caught, and wildly beat from one wall to the other of their closing destiny the phosphorescent
Water to a pool of flame, each beautiful slender body sheeted with flame, like a live rocket
A comet's tail wake of clear yellow flame; while outside the narrowing
Floats and cordage of the net great sea-lions come up to watch, sighing in the dark; the vast walls of night
Stand erect to the stars. Lately I was looking from a night mountain-top
On a wide city, the colored splendor, galaxies of light: how could I help but recall the seine-net
Gathering the luminous fish? I cannot tell you how beautiful the city appeared, and a little terrible.
I thought, We have geared the machines and locked all together into interdependence; we have built the great cities; now
There is no escape. We have gathered vast populations incapable of free survival, insulated

From the strong earth, each person in himself helpless, on all dependent. The circle is closed, and the net
Is being hauled in. They hardly feel the cords drawing, yet they shine already. The inevitable mass-disasters
Will not come in our time nor in our children's, but we and our children
Must watch the net draw narrower, government take all powers -or revolution, and the new government
Take more than all, add to kept bodies kept souls- or anarchy, the mass-disasters. These things are Progress;
Do you marvel our verse is troubled or frowning, while it keeps its reason? Or it lets go, lets the mood flow
In the manner of the recent young men into mere hysteria, splin- tered gleams, crackled laughter. But they are quite wrong.
There is no reason for amazement: surely one always knew that cultures decay, and life's end is death.

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[scooterdood661]

The monologue at the end is a poem.

The Purse-Seine by Robinson Jeffers.

[CYANIRIS]

@scooterdood661 Thank you so much!

[theflamesoffury]

Want the whole lyrics of this song :( Including the "monologue" at the end...

[CYANIRIS]

@theflamesoffury I want them too!! I have repeatedly tried to find them within the last several months, but so far, whatsoever, in vain...:(

[weaknesscomespainful]

This is my funeral song

[theflamesoffury]

@scooterdood661 THANK YOU SOOOOOO MUCH!!!!!

[weaknesscomespainful]

-__-

>post my interpretation of the monologue

>read that it was a poem after clicking post

>Feels dumb :P

At the same time though I got close on it so I feel good too lol.

[weaknesscomespainful]

Parts of the monologue (At least up to where I couldnt understand him)

8:54

Our sardine fisherman worked at night in the dark of the moon. Daylight or moonlight they could not tell where to spread the net, unable to see the phosphorescence of the shells of fish. They worked northward from Monterey coasting Santa Cruz off the nearest point or off the sure point. The lookout man would see some lakes of no colored light on the seaside

Thennn somethin somethin somethin. Ill keep working on it.

[weaknesscomespainful]

OK, I wrote down most of it, didnt finish the monologue mainly becvause theres a crescendo in the piano and i cant understand him and untill I do I basically wont go on :/ sorry guys but here.

6:13 Black roots of dune, It tears at the roots. The worst is near and I wonder what it begged and tied under night.

Chorus:Keep your weary hearts of water over land they built an altar.

Back Chorus Female:Just exactly plagued and forth died, shadow sweat are rigged and art right.

[themanclaw2]

I cannot tell you how beautiful this song is... and a little terrible ;)

[Pineappleking7]

sounds like moonlight sonata.

[theflamesoffury]

@weaknesscomespainful Ohhhh PLEEEEAAASEEEE!

I and millions of people need them ! ;)

[weaknesscomespainful]

@theflamesoffury I dont know them all but heres the lyrics for 2:58

"Keep your weary hearts of water, over land they built an Altar"

As for the monologue ill post it once i type it all down.