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1.
In deep dusk, in deep dusk green, the crescent moon's an air of precious sheen, shot through with curvèd light and clear ... polished the shells that gleam like her. Sad moon, you complain and light your spell, your voice like to the swell of surging sea, surging, And fills the hollow shell ... Goddess with thy translucent whisper! You hush my heart that sore laments; pour on my dreams your light. Pour as do the trees and plants upon the night flower. The slim pine black and strained hoards your song strange beneath its skin. Your song free to the wind, oh twisted moon! In my mind still I keep green murmurings of moon and sea, and as the pine tree high copies the sea, the sea sigh of shells. Songs without cease echo your peace oh moon so pale. (c) S N Solomons
2.
The air is heavy this afternoon, Weighs heavily upon the mind And the heat, semi translucent, Presses against the slate blue sky, Tactile as a membrane, Bulging like cling film over The pulsing microwave Of our dear old Park. And Time is slow and viscous. And scattered haphazard On the path and grass, Objects, people, and colours Have a surreal identity. The grass is greener, Sounds more strident, People perfect samples, Everything in your face. And Time is slow and viscous Little old ladies With short white curly hair Take short light genteel steps Into their Third Age. Old gaffers with shiny pates, Moustache akimbo, And spine welded stiff, Recalling how they used to march In their lost past. And Time is slow and viscous Families spread untidily And ungainly upon the grass, With fat pink ideal babies Squirming and cooing. And fat pink young mothers, Posing and dozing. Floating and flirting girls, Golf ball muscled boyos Showing off to them, Showing off their talents To the talent. And Time is slow and viscous In our dear old Park (c) S N Solomons
3.
Im Märzen der Bauer die Klonschafe schert Er klont sie noch einmal dann sind sie vermehrt Die Felder voll Schafe kein Widder zu sehn Kein Bulle, kein Bock, und im Fluss Östrogen! Den Rechen den Spaten den braucht er nicht mehr Die Chemikalien sind all sein Gewehr Auch Batteriehühne sie machen sein Geld Er spart alle Arbeit auf Wiesen und Feld. Knechtinnen und Mägde und all sein Gesind Sie sind alle weiblich o' werden's geschwind Sie trinken vom Flusse, der von der Fabrik Fliesst schön in das Wasser trotz aller Kritik Und ist dann der Frühling und Sommer vorbei, so füllet die Scheuer die Bank wieder neu; und ist voll die Scheuer, voll Keller und Haus, was macht uns der Tod des Natürlichen aus?.
4.
In springtime the farmer shears all his cloned sheep He clones them again and the numbers do leap The field's full of ewes, not a ram in the pen No bull and no he-goat just all oestrogen The rake and the spade are all things of the past His weapons all chemicals, quite unsurpassed And battery chickens his money do yield And no need to labour in meadow and field The stable ladettes and the whole of his crew They're all of them female or soon will be too They drink of the stream from the factory there Which flows to the river because they don't care And when spring and summer have turned to the fall The barn and the bank fill with goodies and all And if we are eating the fat of the land What care we that nature's effectively banned?
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about

Music composed by David Warin Solomons relating to our environment and terrains, performed by various professional groups.

credits

released January 1, 2017

Composers Choir (under Daniel Shaw)
Budapest Scoring (under Zoltán Pad
Matthew Curtis (Choral Tracks)

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about

David Warin Solomons Sale, UK

Composer from UK born in 1953, concentrating on lyrical and tonal works for chamber music combinations, solo voice and choral works.

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