Rain
The sky is crying, the streets are full of tears
Rain come down wash away my fears
And all this writing on the wall
Oh I can read between the lines
Rain come down forgive this dirty town
Rain come down and give this dirty town
A drink of water, a drink of wine.
Doesn't the rain remind you of something? It reminds me, always, of these lyrics from "Hand in Hand", by Dire Straits, from the album Making Movies.
It also reminds me of this one:
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville;
Quelle est cette langeur
Qui penetre mon coeur?
Accents missing, the first stanza from Paul Verlaine's "Il pleure dans mon coeur", from Romances sans paroles.
Another mystery of the brain, how these little snippets are stored until the point when they are triggered by some stimulus. Then they pop up, and you smile, thinking of some long lost time when you first heard the song, or read the poem. How you were 18, in college, half your life time ago.
Very Proustian, no?
Rain come down wash away my fears
And all this writing on the wall
Oh I can read between the lines
Rain come down forgive this dirty town
Rain come down and give this dirty town
A drink of water, a drink of wine.
Doesn't the rain remind you of something? It reminds me, always, of these lyrics from "Hand in Hand", by Dire Straits, from the album Making Movies.
It also reminds me of this one:
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville;
Quelle est cette langeur
Qui penetre mon coeur?
Accents missing, the first stanza from Paul Verlaine's "Il pleure dans mon coeur", from Romances sans paroles.
Another mystery of the brain, how these little snippets are stored until the point when they are triggered by some stimulus. Then they pop up, and you smile, thinking of some long lost time when you first heard the song, or read the poem. How you were 18, in college, half your life time ago.
Very Proustian, no?
posted by Shelly at 8:38 PM
3 Comments:
I read somewhere that smells are very associated with memories too.
Yes, I can vouch for smell memories.
"Il pleure dans mon coeur, Comme il pleut sur la ville, Quelle est cette langeur, Qui penetre mon coeur?" is the one stanza I remember memorizing for my high school French class. Yes, it is amazing how rain, poems, lyrics, smells and tastes so often open a flood of memories.
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