(A flowering apple tree in May 2008. Picture by Laura Vilva. White Flower, Letters & May used to be the working title for songs composed by The Nameless TYM between the years 2003 and 2009. This chapter is a remembrance of those things. Most of the lyrics have been sung in rehearsals, and some in a concert, during that time. Now they stand as a pillar of memory and mercy, too. Dedicated to the band that made a stylistical breakthrough in the beginning of the century.)
"En Viena hay diez muchachas,
un hombro donde solloza la muerte
y un bosque de palomas disecadas.
Hay un fragmento de la mañana
en el museo de la escarcha.
Hay un salón con mil ventanas."
"En Viena hay cuatro espejos
donde juegan tu boca y los ecos.
Hay una muerte para piano
que pinta de azul a los muchachos.
Hay mendigos por los tejados.
Hay frescas guirnaldas de llanto."
-Federico García Lorca / Pequeño vals vienés
Letters in May fragments were written in 2002 when May was coming to its end, with only minor changes thereafter. I hope I'm forgiven that I've failed to be a knight and these letters were not worthy of their original title, "Minne-songs".
“We’ve seen it grow, lately...."
We’ve seen it grow, lately
And we have changed a little
How beautiful it is, and even more
With my cup of coffee saved
And you’re like the others, except for this
How much of it is here now
And we were lying close
It’s not long ago when I wrote
That “from now on I’ll have the coffee
Without going along the tears
That ran along your shapes
Not so very long ago
Like they were hysterically
Going to see someone”
Were we close enough
Were we close enough
II THE THIN YOUNG MEN
(A bombshelter in Hamina, March 2009, the place where it all began. The 15th anniversary of the band, the last picture of The Sun Tryst. The names of the players from right to left: Jussi Matikainen, Tomi Pekkola, Antti Filppu. There was enough good will and working for it all through the years, that a conscience may be clean. So everything went as it was written for us. With these words, may peace be with you. This photo was "miraculously" shot by the men themselves.)
Who couldn’t have it, who couldn't rest
“From where no one slept well
Into lilies of no one’s arms”
Even if it takes forever
To make them feel alright
Whose hearts have gone somewhere else
Let them have a chance
For who could be sure
When already going crazy
I couldn’t write, I couldn’t tell
But love kept on longing for this
Dance of the nymphs
With someone’s li(n)es again
Who else has been there
How they were left behind
How they were left behind
For having a hard time
If they kept themselves away from it
With those who were right
And with heart-strings calling
How they could be
And I knew it, but what is this
And what I wished for
Everything that has gone will be seen again
“Well Mr. Dancer, I’m not your man
And I may not be a man at all”
When girls are little nymphs, men hide
And they lie (to themselves)
“What writing has ever helped me“
To live like that, to live like that
No more, no more, no more
If there's any sense at all
In this misery, this misery of……
The Thin Young Men was written in March 2009. There was a fragment called I'm Not Your Man (from 2003), and its verses were used here.
"And there’s nothing in this world..."
And there’s nothing in this world
Like the lesson to guide us wrong
First love into faith’s own
Lasting as long as it will
And if it’s not very long
How soon it could happen
"Why did you let me suffer"
And you were already going somewhere
Even then you were going away
Right after we began ending ours
I began to fall there and be quiet
Listen to the false rains
They have the years’ roar in them
"And if I'm still too thin for you,
For whom should I get worried"
Honey, you didn’t give me much
Before you went away [...]
And I had already gotten there
When autumn came in July
IV BLACK WINE (FROM HARER)
What love spells or letters
F(l)or the soul I had to let you see
(Stage design for Wagner's Parsifal, act III.)
And there’s nothing in this world
Like the lesson to guide us wrong
First love into faith’s own
Lasting as long as it will
And if it’s not very long
How soon it could happen
"Why did you let me suffer"
And you were already going somewhere
Even then you were going away
Right after we began ending ours
I began to fall there and be quiet
Listen to the false rains
They have the years’ roar in them
"And if I'm still too thin for you,
For whom should I get worried"
Honey, you didn’t give me much
Before you went away [...]
And I had already gotten there
When autumn came in July
IV BLACK WINE (FROM HARER)
(Hard times café with a Moccamaster in early 2006, Helsinki. I tried to retain my senses while shame and honour clashed, and hell took its part. Picture by Antti Filppu.)
Chain, chain
(What Rimbaud has to sell)
What our poets have to sell
And for whom it becomes
The brothel’s finest taste
But the old Café is closed
Is there anyone sickened or tired
We’ll have to keep breathing
(We’ll have to) keep breathing
Could writers be like priests again
Spirit of the Sun of Christ
"Love itself will be the spell
That binds us..."
Helpless, they were dying
The slave caravan
From their shit grew coffee trees
Dark skin and dark roast
From the early Ethiopian deserts
To whatever end of hope
What have their hearts felt
The burning sand for the castrated
And what they could not have
Divine, divine
If it comes to be known
To see Mocca’s beauty wither
How the city would be gone away
Who could tell the difference
When higher is not the highest
Let it be veiled (in Arabic) if it wants to
I have something else, I have something else
(The Book of Lyrics, chapter VI. The photograph was taken in Korso, Vantaa, March 2000, by Antti Filppu. The setting is quite artificial, but here "black wine" and childlike faith are stronger than irony.)
Chorus:
Now in this room
Chain, chain
(What Rimbaud has to sell)
What our poets have to sell
And for whom it becomes
The brothel’s finest taste
But the old Café is closed
Is there anyone sickened or tired
We’ll have to keep breathing
(We’ll have to) keep breathing
Could writers be like priests again
Spirit of the Sun of Christ
"Love itself will be the spell
That binds us..."
Helpless, they were dying
The slave caravan
From their shit grew coffee trees
Dark skin and dark roast
From the early Ethiopian deserts
To whatever end of hope
What have their hearts felt
The burning sand for the castrated
And what they could not have
Divine, divine
If it comes to be known
To see Mocca’s beauty wither
How the city would be gone away
Who could tell the difference
When higher is not the highest
Let it be veiled (in Arabic) if it wants to
I have something else, I have something else
(The Book of Lyrics, chapter VI. The photograph was taken in Korso, Vantaa, March 2000, by Antti Filppu. The setting is quite artificial, but here "black wine" and childlike faith are stronger than irony.)
Chorus:
Now in this room
With letters thrown all over
Everything is seen
Everything is seen
Through the cups I’m having
Little white lies
Little white lies
And black wine from Harer
"I’m not like that, for Christ’s sake"
Now in this room
"I’m not like that, for Christ’s sake"
Now in this room
With letters thrown all over
I read the chronicle where it is written
But many names have changed
How easy it could be
How easy it could be
I read the chronicle where it is written
But many names have changed
How easy it could be
How easy it could be
And innocent, for the knight of faith
Who rides to save what is beautiful
Saving all that is beloved
How blessed they were,
Who rides to save what is beautiful
Saving all that is beloved
How blessed they were,
How blessed they were
When they rode to save Vienna
“May God forgive us, and may God help us”
More than three hundred years ago
For those who crossed each other
When they rode to save Vienna
“May God forgive us, and may God help us”
More than three hundred years ago
For those who crossed each other
(And for those who crossed over)
The heart of Europe, and the West
How could we leave this ground
The heart of Europe, and the West
How could we leave this ground
How could we leave this ground
Whose side is it when home is near
And what they couldn't take
Many (things) were lying there
In a thousand Arabian veils
By those who went home (again)
The black gold would be known
With a mystic laugh, verses of it
Many lines were sacked for us
The finest will save the day
Unveiled by the holy wine
The love of God
(Juliusz Kossak's painting from 1882. King John III Sobieski of Poland rides to save Vienna in 1683. The retreating army left their coffee sacks lying on the ground, and I raise my cup for them, too.)
Chorus:
Now in this room
Whose side is it when home is near
And what they couldn't take
Many (things) were lying there
In a thousand Arabian veils
By those who went home (again)
The black gold would be known
With a mystic laugh, verses of it
Many lines were sacked for us
The finest will save the day
Unveiled by the holy wine
The love of God
(Juliusz Kossak's painting from 1882. King John III Sobieski of Poland rides to save Vienna in 1683. The retreating army left their coffee sacks lying on the ground, and I raise my cup for them, too.)
Chorus:
Now in this room
With letters thrown all over
Everything is seen
Everything is seen
Through the cups I’m having
Little white lies
Little white lies
And black wine from Harer
"I’m not like that, for Christ’s sake"
Now in this room
"I’m not like that, for Christ’s sake"
Now in this room
With letters thrown all over
I read the chronicle where it is written
But many names have changed
How easy it could be
How easy it could be
And innocent, for the knight of faith
Who rides to save what is beautiful
Saving all that is beloved
How blessed they were,
I read the chronicle where it is written
But many names have changed
How easy it could be
How easy it could be
And innocent, for the knight of faith
Who rides to save what is beautiful
Saving all that is beloved
How blessed they were,
How blessed they were
When they rode to save Vienna
“May God forgive us, and may God help us”
Black Wine (From Harer) was written during the first hoursof the year 2007, except for a few lines added later on.
“May God forgive us, and may God help us”
Black Wine (From Harer) was written during the first hoursof the year 2007, except for a few lines added later on.
"And we’ll be watching elsewhere...."
And we’ll be watching elsewhere
When the other side of the river is near
You don’t take it seriously
When there’s nothing to grow
But we’ve been like lovers
Holding hands in December frost
And I’ve been a little scared of you
”But still, the bliss of your touch”
Is something that gets us so well
So cold without arms around like you said
And when ”only time will tell”
And I know you warned me
But I’m only thinking of it
To wed ourselves with this
What would it be like for us
What would it be like
To have you as a wife
To have you for a life
And now tell me, baby
Are they the words that I lost
Why is this hurting me so much
I would step in to the church
With a wedding and a bride
Even though "nothing works,
Not even love spells"
VI THE BEAUTIFUL
(A hill with a view near the temple of Apollo. The Northeast Aegean sea. There's a vague silhouette on the horizon: the island of Samothrace. This was the closest I could get to the Sanctuary of the Great Gods. The photoscape by Antti Filppu, August 2009 at the Acropolis of Limenas, Thassos.)
Chorus of the Winds:
...Sirens!
With every stolen thing
Muses of the Underworld
"Who will throw the gold back there"
OH WOE! AI! AI! AI! OH WOE!
But we've been naming the angles
Through which the angels come
And the flowers taken from the bedside
Which one is which, all of Apollo's friends
Like the wild Hyacinth
OH WOE! AI! AI! AI! OH WOE!
These men were changed
And there are flowers in a vase
Next to the river bed
"Please, get well soon, please, get well soon"
Where they slept with gods
OH WOE! AI! AI! AI! OH WOE!
Who will be brought back to life
And the angels that come
They're the angels we call forth
Some of them have no pupils
But this is the world of color
OH WOE! AI! AI! AI! OH WOE!
Have you noticed that there's no song
For the shipwrecked
The sirens didn't sing for them
There was only the sound of winds
("The goddess Hera, seated on a throne, sending away Iris, the winged messenger of the gods." The picture taken by Antti Filppu, August 2009 in ancient Limenas, Thassos.)
Don't ever meet me again
So it will change into a poem
That no one will read
Let me sing to you now
Like I sang to her, but this lyric
Will not give the same tone
And even if no one hears it
I would have liked to meet you
And thank you, for what happened
Who would have known
Iris comes dressed in a tunic
With spectra and wings
Through the prism
I'd walk there, and watch the trams
Let them go by like months
Along the wires through the night
In this bright City of Being here
Like I was, without you, let them go
Inlets of the Aegean sea
For every pathetic sailor
Someone has words to lend
If there's not much left
"Is this worth trying"
(The heart of Helsinki by night in October 2001. There is a reason why I wrote Lyrics in the style of old manuscripts, together with this "electrical book". It has taken the simple form of a pop song, with old-fashioned poetry still ringing the bell, to a new kind of high. I also wish to see the Renaissance of handwritten text, but internet has come to stay, and I don't want to give you the impression that I'm against it.)
I regret that I couldn't resist
The loathing, and the despise
When I thought I saw the Devil in you
It was only a moment of choice
To be lost, and I would lose it
But for a little while
It was the kind of waltz I like
There were lovely, quiet mornings
And I liked it so very much
How we slept there, only a few nights
But it meant a lot and would make
The uncertain man tremble
Chorus:
And I thank you once more
For making me a poet again
And we’ll be watching elsewhere
When the other side of the river is near
You don’t take it seriously
When there’s nothing to grow
But we’ve been like lovers
Holding hands in December frost
And I’ve been a little scared of you
”But still, the bliss of your touch”
Is something that gets us so well
So cold without arms around like you said
And when ”only time will tell”
And I know you warned me
But I’m only thinking of it
To wed ourselves with this
What would it be like for us
What would it be like
To have you as a wife
To have you for a life
And now tell me, baby
Are they the words that I lost
Why is this hurting me so much
I would step in to the church
With a wedding and a bride
Even though "nothing works,
Not even love spells"
VI THE BEAUTIFUL
(A hill with a view near the temple of Apollo. The Northeast Aegean sea. There's a vague silhouette on the horizon: the island of Samothrace. This was the closest I could get to the Sanctuary of the Great Gods. The photoscape by Antti Filppu, August 2009 at the Acropolis of Limenas, Thassos.)
Chorus of the Winds:
...Sirens!
With every stolen thing
Muses of the Underworld
"Who will throw the gold back there"
OH WOE! AI! AI! AI! OH WOE!
But we've been naming the angles
Through which the angels come
And the flowers taken from the bedside
Which one is which, all of Apollo's friends
Like the wild Hyacinth
OH WOE! AI! AI! AI! OH WOE!
These men were changed
And there are flowers in a vase
Next to the river bed
"Please, get well soon, please, get well soon"
Where they slept with gods
OH WOE! AI! AI! AI! OH WOE!
Who will be brought back to life
And the angels that come
They're the angels we call forth
Some of them have no pupils
But this is the world of color
OH WOE! AI! AI! AI! OH WOE!
Have you noticed that there's no song
For the shipwrecked
The sirens didn't sing for them
There was only the sound of winds
("The goddess Hera, seated on a throne, sending away Iris, the winged messenger of the gods." The picture taken by Antti Filppu, August 2009 in ancient Limenas, Thassos.)
Don't ever meet me again
So it will change into a poem
That no one will read
Let me sing to you now
Like I sang to her, but this lyric
Will not give the same tone
And even if no one hears it
I would have liked to meet you
And thank you, for what happened
Who would have known
Iris comes dressed in a tunic
With spectra and wings
Through the prism
I'd walk there, and watch the trams
Let them go by like months
Along the wires through the night
In this bright City of Being here
Like I was, without you, let them go
Inlets of the Aegean sea
For every pathetic sailor
Someone has words to lend
If there's not much left
"Is this worth trying"
(The heart of Helsinki by night in October 2001. There is a reason why I wrote Lyrics in the style of old manuscripts, together with this "electrical book". It has taken the simple form of a pop song, with old-fashioned poetry still ringing the bell, to a new kind of high. I also wish to see the Renaissance of handwritten text, but internet has come to stay, and I don't want to give you the impression that I'm against it.)
I regret that I couldn't resist
The loathing, and the despise
When I thought I saw the Devil in you
It was only a moment of choice
To be lost, and I would lose it
But for a little while
It was the kind of waltz I like
There were lovely, quiet mornings
And I liked it so very much
How we slept there, only a few nights
But it meant a lot and would make
The uncertain man tremble
Chorus:
And I thank you once more
For making me a poet again
And for the beautiful chorus
And the nights you spent with me
I only danced with you a little while
"We only danced a fortnight time waltz"
But I dreamed you came and stayed beside me
"Será el cielo para el viento
But I dreamed you came and stayed beside me
"Será el cielo para el viento
duro como una pared
y las ramas desgajadas
y las ramas desgajadas
se irán bailando con él."
-Federico García Lorca / Vals en las ramas
(I wanted to wake up in a city that doesn't sleep. The month of October in the year 2001 was full of poetry and sickness. Like so many other months and years, but I don't complain. They're precious memories. Pictures by Antti Filppu.)
And I would miss
The eyes that are blue
"She's wearing a young girl's face,
But it's years older than you are"
There were lonely hours
Wistful and warm
How it seemed so etheric
"And a mouth laid to answer,
On the dew of that morning"
How lovers could be chosen
Oh not to meet again
The dancer, the nymph
And our Lady of Romance
Would leave me longing
Neither of them
I'd get to know like I wanted
"To come home with you,
To come home with you"
And I wept bitterly......
But they were becoming themselves
Whether it was my fault or not
Ashes would be brought to us
And who leaves me longing
For the secrets that were taught
Under the olive trees, in the garden
(I wanted to wake up in a city that doesn't sleep. The month of October in the year 2001 was full of poetry and sickness. Like so many other months and years, but I don't complain. They're precious memories. Pictures by Antti Filppu.)
And I would miss
The eyes that are blue
"She's wearing a young girl's face,
But it's years older than you are"
There were lonely hours
Wistful and warm
How it seemed so etheric
"And a mouth laid to answer,
On the dew of that morning"
How lovers could be chosen
Oh not to meet again
The dancer, the nymph
And our Lady of Romance
Would leave me longing
Neither of them
I'd get to know like I wanted
"To come home with you,
To come home with you"
And I wept bitterly......
But they were becoming themselves
Whether it was my fault or not
Ashes would be brought to us
And who leaves me longing
For the secrets that were taught
Under the olive trees, in the garden
(Looking down at the street and its leaves in Töölö, 2002. From the gutter one may find a new perspective on life. Or lose it altogether. Photo by Antti Filppu.)
Sirenen (oben auf den Felsen):
"Was sehen wir von weiten
Das Wellenreich durchgleiten?
Als wie nach Windes Regel
Anzögen weiße Segel,
So hell sind sie zu schauen,
Verklärte Meeresfrauen!
Laßt uns herunterklimmen!
Vernehmt ihr doch die Stimmen."
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe / Faust (II)
The Beautiful was written in early 2010.
Although some parts were taken from
notes for The Sleeping Gold (2001) et al.
Chorus:
And I thank you once more
For making me a poet again
And I thank you once more
For making me a poet again
And for the beautiful chorus
And the nights you spent with me
I only danced with you a little while
"We only danced a fortnight time waltz"
But I dreamed you came and stayed beside me
But I dreamed you came and stayed beside me
Sirenen (oben auf den Felsen):
"Was sehen wir von weiten
Das Wellenreich durchgleiten?
Als wie nach Windes Regel
Anzögen weiße Segel,
So hell sind sie zu schauen,
Verklärte Meeresfrauen!
Laßt uns herunterklimmen!
Vernehmt ihr doch die Stimmen."
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe / Faust (II)
The Beautiful was written in early 2010.
Although some parts were taken from
notes for The Sleeping Gold (2001) et al.
"What love spells or letters have you...."
What love spells or letters
Have you written me this time
A flower for your thoughts,
A flower for your thoughts,
A wreath of white flowers
Blancheflor, to heal
Blancheflor, to heal
One long-lasting illness
F(l)or the soul I had to let you see
"And not like how it went,
Not like how it went"
Even though I laughed
I meant it, I meant it
"And I would have my cups of coffee
With not too much of it hating this"
And all the rest of it is right here
“My heart grew older, and it’s now ages old”
Not like how it went"
Even though I laughed
I meant it, I meant it
"And I would have my cups of coffee
With not too much of it hating this"
And all the rest of it is right here
“My heart grew older, and it’s now ages old”
To still have these cups of coffee, knowing
That “I could have loved you
Like those who died for theirs"
But you’re not here for me, are you
And "this is the last time
That I ever write you at all"
VIII WHITE FLOWER (FROM SALVAT)
(Paros in September 2007. George Seferis considered the island to be a perfect jewel. I think it has a literally enchanting atmosphere. Photo by Laura Vilva. "On the secret seashore, white like a dove...")
"Ist zwîvel herzen nâchgebûr,
daz muoz der sêle werden sûr.
gesmæhet und gezieret
Ist swâ sich parrieret
unverzaget mannes muot,
als agelstern varwe tuot.
der mac dennoch wesen geil,
wande an im sint beidiu teil,
des himels und der helle.
der unstæte geselle
hât die swarzen varwe gar
und wirt ouch nâch der vinster var:
sô habet sich an die blanken
der mit stæten gedanken."
("If vacillation dwell with the heart
the soul will rue it.
Shame and honour clash
where the courage of a steadfast man
is motley like the magpie.
But such a man may yet make merry
for Heaven and Hell have equal part in him.
Infidelity's friend is black all over
and takes on a murky hue,
while the man of loyal temper
holds to the white.")
-Wolfram von Eschenbach / Parzival
Erstes Buch (Chapter One)
The whole story begins with these words
The Men's Choir:
White Flower from Salvat
How that light has to come
How it will be kept safe, it will be kept safe
For the sake of all Knights of Word
White Flower (From Salvat) was composed for "The Men's Choir" where time became space (zum Raum wird hier die Zeit).
That “I could have loved you
Like those who died for theirs"
But you’re not here for me, are you
And "this is the last time
That I ever write you at all"
VIII WHITE FLOWER (FROM SALVAT)
(Paros in September 2007. George Seferis considered the island to be a perfect jewel. I think it has a literally enchanting atmosphere. Photo by Laura Vilva. "On the secret seashore, white like a dove...")
"Ist zwîvel herzen nâchgebûr,
daz muoz der sêle werden sûr.
gesmæhet und gezieret
Ist swâ sich parrieret
unverzaget mannes muot,
als agelstern varwe tuot.
der mac dennoch wesen geil,
wande an im sint beidiu teil,
des himels und der helle.
der unstæte geselle
hât die swarzen varwe gar
und wirt ouch nâch der vinster var:
sô habet sich an die blanken
der mit stæten gedanken."
the soul will rue it.
Shame and honour clash
where the courage of a steadfast man
is motley like the magpie.
But such a man may yet make merry
for Heaven and Hell have equal part in him.
Infidelity's friend is black all over
and takes on a murky hue,
while the man of loyal temper
holds to the white.")
-Wolfram von Eschenbach / Parzival
Erstes Buch (Chapter One)
The whole story begins with these words
The Men's Choir:
White Flower from Salvat
How that light has to come
How it will be kept safe, it will be kept safe
For the sake of all Knights of Word
White Flower (From Salvat) was composed for "The Men's Choir" where time became space (zum Raum wird hier die Zeit).
(Stage design for Wagner's Parsifal, act III.)