SAMHAIN
http://www.paintedred.com/abhaill/Samhain.mp3This is a song I started writing 7 years ago. It began immediately following a spirit journey I had taken that left me confused and even disturbed. I went out onto my balcony and looked down over the trees starting to change their colours for the Fall, and on the breeze floated to me the words with their tune, “The wind in the willows, in the poplars and firs / The grass in the meadows with the heather and furze...”
The piano patterning of notes came with them, and I went to the instrument with the introductory phrases already formed for me. Years later I added more verses, and they've been tweaked along the way ever since. When I hear the opening notes of the song I can see the leaves being blown about by the autumn winds in my mind's eye. I feel as though I am blowing them as I play. The whistle melodies are a recent addition, along with the harmonies.
I've been away from my music for far too long, but working on this project has helped to infuse me with imbas once again. I'm so pleased and proud to be able to share this piece with all of you. I hope you enjoy it!
~ Abhaill
SAMHAIN
The wind in the willows, in the poplars and firs
The grass in the meadows with the heather and furze
The Sun on its throne amidst courtiers of stars
And I on the floor sit attending my scars
The waves in their strength carve the cliff faces bare
The hawk in its plunge causing swirls in the air
The mist in its sheen clinging desperately on
To the land it envelops from dusk until dawn
The trees shed their leaves as the old year his crown
The wind blows them sharply but can’t pin them down
The Earth she is drawn to the face of the moon
As she hallows his passing with her mournful tune
The darkness it falls as it cradles the land
Her lap is his pillow, she’s holding his hand
She watches as slowly he fades from her sight
And he watches her cry from a far lofty height
She passes in slumber the long winter’s night
Her pattern determines her path in the light
A cauldron to mollify sorrow and strife:
Her womb will transform all this death into life
The roots of the trees penetrate to her core
Knowing they’re waiting she'll open the door
She'll feel the sap rising like blood in their veins
Yes, life will continue and she holds the reins