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Une heure ou deux me restent
dans ce bruit sonore que tu es,
doux instrument.
Je manie tes prouesses aujourd'hui,
te laissant découvrir mon dénuement
à ceux qui par tes traits verront
ma face intérieure.
Celle qui échappe à tout regard.
Car nul ne voit la Grâce,
et nul ne saura ce que cette chape,
qui cachera désormais tout mon être,
va cacher,
car le coeur ici se cache.
Kyrie
Un dernier regard, car la fenêtre que tu es se clôt
Et sache ami, qui relies tout ami,
Que toi, toi seul, as transubstantié mon moi
Alone we are together in this place,
alone in our shared loneliness.
Alone as though enclosed for e'er,
each lonely face 'neath pointed
hoods, not as of linen sewn but
walled of brick and boulder,
though unseen the barring seal that
fastens each recluse.
Reclusion! I have thought of thy
vast screen and written for its nailing,
but what use the closing in of all
except the door that opes all others?
For other folk must natter, shrive,
direct, crack every law of silence,
to content who'd gape at these
caged specimens.
Whilst here, not even thou Frère,
Frère X, shalt know, canst know,
what Y's locked there.
[Quote from St Paul's letter to the Hebrews]
He makes men pure from their sin
and both he and those who are made pure
all have the same Father
That is why Jesus is not ashamed
to call the his brothers
(Alleluia, we sing Alleluia)
When we have left, what shall be left behind?
Will this wake be long-ruffled in our trail?
Will unborn generations something find
Upon this deep we splash till eddies fail?
And this, our lonely crying of a day,
Will it send echoes for tomorrow's sky?
The traveller that yet must walk this way,
Will he one hour to yesterday draw nigh?
And think perhaps that many days have run
Unheeded by life's ears, for none
was there beside the fading shadow
that each sun abandoned to its night,
To tell us where his own small journey went;
For little things can sometimes linger long
Where brief song sings
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Amidst grey working days as they float by
there fall at times some beams that still shine on
in mem'ry's crowded cells.
And as we lie in eves to come
on redreamt hours long gone,
some will not go unseen.
But standing there
as milestones on the path we trod
they will recall where passed this thoroughfare
and laugh where we once laughed,
where we laughed at thrills so odd.
For there are that would buy lost hours of joy
and map fair days to hold them,
and go far and further still,
to find how all did cloy
at the hour they passed them by,
where they still are awaiting our return.
For only he who little loves ne'er wanted more to be.
Lord have Mercy
Christ have mercy
Lord have mercy
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