The moon and the yew tree

from by On your bike

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lyrics

Arrangement from the poem by Sylvia Plath

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Princkling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spirituous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see were there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quite

Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky--
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection.
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness-blackness and
Silence.

Original Poem:

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky --
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness -
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

by Sylvia Plath

credits

from EP INNER, released February 19, 2013
Lucia Antonini: composición, guitarra, voz
Clara Megías: arreglos, viola
Coco Moya: arreglos, percusión y segunda voz
Alberto Marrodán Thomas: arreglos, guitarra eléctrica
Letra extraida de un poema de Sylvia Plath

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On your bike Madrid, Spain

On your bike es un proyecto que nace en 2009 y actualmente está formado por Clara Megías, Coco Moya y Lucía Antonini. Somos un grupo de folk-rock acústico con guitarra, viola, melódica, percusión y teclado.
En 2012 fuimos seleccionadas por nuestro EP 2012 de ente las 10 mejores Demos de Madrid de ese año por la revista Mondo Sonoro.
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