by Laura Perrudin

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Impressions 04:22
I. Les Silhouettes The sea is flecked with bars of grey The dull dead wind is out of tune, And like a withered leaf the moon Is blown across the stormy bay. Etched clear upon the pallid sand The black boat lies: a sailor boy Clambers aboard in careless joy With laughing face and gleaming hand. And overhead the curlews cry, Where through the dusky upland grass The young brown-throated reapers pass, Like silhouettes against the sky. II. La Fuite de la Lune To outer senses there is peace, A dreamy peace on either hand, Deep silence in the shadowy land, Deep silence where the shadows cease. Save for a cry that echoes shrill From some lone bird disconsolate; A corncrake calling to its mate; The answer from the misty hill. And suddenly the moon withdraws Her sickle from the lightening skies, And to her sombre cavern flies, Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.
I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And someone called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
The Trees 02:03
Sonnet VII 04:09
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head, each under eye Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, Serving with looks his sacred majesty; And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill, Resembling strong youth in his middle age, Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, Attending on his golden pilgrimage: But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are From his low tract, and look another way:    So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon    Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.
The twilight turns from amethyst To deep and deeper blue, The lamp fills with a pale green glow The trees of the avenue. The old piano plays an air, Sedate and slow and gay; She bends upon the yellow keys, Her head inclines this way. Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands That wander as they list -- - The twilight turns to darker blue With lights of amethyst.
You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart; In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay, When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. The herring are not in the tides as they were of old; My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cart That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold, When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart, Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore, When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.
An omnibus across the bridge Crawls like a yellow butterfly, And, here and there, a passer-by Shows like a little restless midge. Big barges full of yellow hay Are moored against the shadowy wharf, And, like a yellow silken scarf, The thick fog hangs along the quay. The yellow leaves begin to fade And flutter from the Temple elms, And at my feet the pale green Thames Lies like a rod of rippled jade.
De ce tardif avril, rameaux, verte lumière, Lorsque vous frissonnez, Je songe aux amoureux, je songe à la poussière Des morts abandonnés. Arbres de la cité, depuis combien d'années Nous nous parlons tout bas ! Depuis combien d'hivers vos dépouilles fanées Se plaignent sous mes pas !
Nocturne 03:11
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
The window looked out onto a pattern never-ending Of flowers and trees and little pathways far descending To the garden far below us, the pavilions in the sunlight Where the peacocks proudly grace the scene A vision a timeless place another way of living You moved in so close i really thought that you were giving I allowed myself a moment to believe that you could need me To reflect upon what might have been. The summer sky I saw reflected in the colour of your eyes But somehow I could never peel away the layers of disguise I'm drowning now I'm slowly sinking in a sea of blue and green Where what you are is never seen, how can anybody know you I still hear the ringing of the church bells in the morning The peacocks still calling out their sad and bitter warning Beauty is only an illusion here your true is an intrusion A mirage is all it's ever been
When they say that I live in a dream Always float on the moon or drift along a stream I'd like to hear some never-heard things Hey, tell me how you've heard it ? To turn a Faun into music Blowing rythms and All afternoon long, Giving off scents and sounds In the evening's round  Did you listen to the wind's advice ? Could you explain me why art is the finest lie Before you clarify your moonlight ? And, in the litteral sense, If over Delphi I dance, On an old romance, Building an image With, on snow, my footsteps Fading in a wave... Mister CD raves ? No salt or pepper in that song Unearthly CD is gone and it would be a wrong But what is missing to carry on ? First I need no edible food But ethereal mood Still misunderstood... Know that I am sorry To put you in my dish No holy drink, only Profane Cookery
Flood 06:50
Goldbrown upon the sated flood The rockvine clusters lift and sway; Vast wings above the lambent waters brood Of sullen day. A waste of waters ruthlessly Sways and uplifts its weedy mane Where brooding day stares down upon the sea In dull disdain. Uplift et domination, ô vigne d'or, Vos fruits en grappes à pleine crue de l'amour, Lambent et vaste et impitoyable comme ce est ton Incertitude! From dewy dreams, my soul, arise, From love's deep slumber and from death, For lo! the trees are full of sighs Whose leaves the morn admonisheth. Eastward the gradual dawn prevails Where softly-burning fires appear, Making to tremble all those veils Of grey and golden gossamer. While sweetly, gently, secretly, The flowery bells of morn are stirred And the wise choirs of faery Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.


released March 15, 2015

Chromatic harp, vocals, percussion & electronics / programming by Laura Perrudin

Recorded October - November 2013 (Kergaourantin, Rostrenen) by Laura Perrudin with the help of Jérémy Rouault
Mixed by Jérémy Rouault (Studio du Faune, St Uniac)
Mastered by Philippe Teissier Du Cros (Studio Boxson, Paris)

Photo by Nicolas Joubard
Artwork by Laura Perrudin

Volatine / L'autre Distribution


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Laura Perrudin France

Singer, harp player, composer, singer-songwriter & producer.

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