Wow I never would have guessed Bob Dylan is as old as my Dad. I always change lyrics to what I want them to be and use them as mantras. Aka whilst all the tired horses are sleepin in the sun I'm a goin ta get my wri-ting done 😄 🤣 😂
My birthday was the 25th, and I so love hearing your misheard lyric sung. It's almost the end of the school year, and I can totally relate to those tired horses. I'm not getting any writing done either! This is my first year as a middle school teacher...I decided after 20 years to stop feeding the educational publishing monster and get into the classroom where I could do some actual good. Elementary school reading and writing was easy to teach, for me. Middle school English for immigrants, it's like standing in front of a firehose trying to get a drink without choking. And I love my kids. But I have to say, I'm pretty well ready to get some writing done.
Thanks for sharing, Patti. This photo is familiar. I thought I remembered that Bob asked you something about poetry that night and you supposedly said you can’t stand poetry. Or is that a myth that somebody spread? Or were you just being ironic. I first bought your poetry books at The Gotham Book Mart when we lived on Long Island. At any rate, I loved watching and hearing the two of you sing “Dark Ryes” at the Beacon when he invited you to come on back out on the road after you had not performed for some time.
How beautiful to hear this and to hear your little story. Bob has a special place in my and many people’s hearts with his lovely poetry/lyrics so Happy belated Birthday Bob and thank you Patti for your lovely rendition of this song, made me smile 🙏
hahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahaaaaaaa. nope.
How am I supposed to get any writing done?
Very sweet and lovely
Thank you so much for this. <3
Patti - if you haven't heard Lisa O'Neill, you simply must. Perhaps these tired horses will ride you to Ireland: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwD1m0O8_sQ
Lovely story about the song and your sitting and talking about Rimbaud with Bob Dylan.
Love this ! My husband is a huge Bob Dylan fan. He thought the same about the lyrics . Love the picture xomimi
Love you, love Bob Dylan, and love that photo! Precious! Talking about Rimbaud! 💜
My life wouldn't make any sense if it wasn't for you and Dylan. Thank you both!
Wow I never would have guessed Bob Dylan is as old as my Dad. I always change lyrics to what I want them to be and use them as mantras. Aka whilst all the tired horses are sleepin in the sun I'm a goin ta get my wri-ting done 😄 🤣 😂
My birthday was the 25th, and I so love hearing your misheard lyric sung. It's almost the end of the school year, and I can totally relate to those tired horses. I'm not getting any writing done either! This is my first year as a middle school teacher...I decided after 20 years to stop feeding the educational publishing monster and get into the classroom where I could do some actual good. Elementary school reading and writing was easy to teach, for me. Middle school English for immigrants, it's like standing in front of a firehose trying to get a drink without choking. And I love my kids. But I have to say, I'm pretty well ready to get some writing done.
lovely
For more than a thousand years Bob Dylan has caressed our hearts with his spirited songs.
Title: Ophelia
Poet: Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891)
Collection: Poems (1870-1871)
I
On the calm and black wave where the stars sleep
White Ophelia floats like a great lily,
Floats very slowly, lying in her long veils...
- In the distant woods we hear hallalis.
It has been more than a thousand years since sad Ophelia
Passes, a white phantom, on the long black river.
For more than a thousand years her sweet madness
Has whispered her romance in the evening breeze.
The wind kisses her breasts and spreads like a corolla
Her great sails lulled softly by the waters;
The quivering willows weep on his shoulder,
On his great dreamy brow bow the reeds.
The crumpled water lilies sigh around her;
She sometimes awakens, in a sleeping alder,
Some nest, from which escapes a little shiver of wings:
- A mysterious song falls from the golden stars.
II
O pale Ophelia! beautiful as snow!
Yes you died, child, by a swept away river!
- It's because the winds falling from the great mountains of Norway
had whispered to you of bitter freedom;
It is that a breath, twisting your long hair,
To your dreamy mind brought strange noises;
That your heart listened to the song of Nature
In the complaints of the tree and the sighs of the nights;
It's because the voice of the mad seas, an immense rattle,
Broke your child's bosom, too human and too sweet;
It's that one morning in April, a beautiful pale horseman,
A poor madman sat mute at your knees!
Sky ! Love ! Freedom ! What a dream, oh poor Folle!
You melted into him like snow on fire:
Your great visions strangled your speech
- And the terrible Infinite frightened your blue eye!
III
- And the Poet says that in the rays of the stars
You come to look, at night, for the flowers you picked;
And that he saw on the water, lying in her long veils,
The white Ophelia floating, like a great lily.
Arthur Rimbaud .
Thanks for sharing, Patti. This photo is familiar. I thought I remembered that Bob asked you something about poetry that night and you supposedly said you can’t stand poetry. Or is that a myth that somebody spread? Or were you just being ironic. I first bought your poetry books at The Gotham Book Mart when we lived on Long Island. At any rate, I loved watching and hearing the two of you sing “Dark Ryes” at the Beacon when he invited you to come on back out on the road after you had not performed for some time.
What a great and well established photo by Ken Regan.I didn't know you were talking about the poet Rimbaud. Nice story, HBD Bob
How beautiful to hear this and to hear your little story. Bob has a special place in my and many people’s hearts with his lovely poetry/lyrics so Happy belated Birthday Bob and thank you Patti for your lovely rendition of this song, made me smile 🙏