Disliking a country does not fucking justify misdeeds you’ve done to it in the past. Don’t claim you’re civilized and then turn around and claim nothing happened. That is bullshit. So much fucking bullshit.
“Why don’t you tell me that ‘if the girl had been worth having she’d have waited for you’? No, sir, the girl really worth having won’t wait for anybody.”—Amory Blaine, This Side Of Paradise (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
I heard this song in the trailer of Pixar’s upcoming movie Brave. So I searched around the net and found the title and meaning.
This song is a Scottish Gaelic (Gàidhlig) song. The song is beautiful. And if you read the meaning, it’ll be much more.
Below I’ll post the translation. And of course, the link to the original lyrics.
My Love Is On the High Seas
On a quiet evening at the beginning of May When the bat was in the skies I heard a tearful young maiden Singing beneath the shadow of the green branches The sun was setting in the sea And no stars yet graced the sky When the young girl sang sorrowfully "My love is on the high seas"
The night's dew began to fall Each bloom yielding softly to the droplets The wind blew in a fragrant breeze Bringing life and renewal to each field The girl tunefully sang her song Quiet and peaceful like the June dew And this chorus constantly repeated "My love is on the high seas"
Day darkened and the stars shone Setting their course amongst the clouds The maiden sat, burdened by her sadness Her singing could not have been more soothing I moved closer to the young woman Singing of her love sailing on the sea Oh sweet was her sad lament "My love is on the high seas"
The music enticed me Nearer to the brown-haired maiden of the warm eyes And she prayed to the King of Heaven "Protect my love on the high seas" Her heart was breaking with love When I took her by the hand "Wipe your eyes, your love is safe I have returned to you from the high seas."
Germany:[Polite applause] Oh well /done/, France! Definitely in the tradition of Beethoven! Yes indeed, very much in His footsteps.
France:I should think so! After all, you may all /make/ composers, but it is to France that they come to gestate!
Italy:Pish posh. Italy is still the center of civilization. I challenge you to find a truly great composer who has not studied under an Italian master.
England:...You know, Frederick Delius is credited as an English composer. Yup. He was /born/ here. His skin sucked the genius right out of our soil.
Norway:You know, Delius spent some time here in Norway. Maybe that's-
Germany:Why all his music sounds like the gentle glimmer of snow that clings to edges of a brook in spring? Please. Your music has no /pain/!
Norway:...We're okay with that.
France:Psh, pain! You want pain! Come to France!
Italy:Oh yes, do go to France. Their music is so profound that it shall forever be remembered as cartoon backdrops, and the sort of operas that establishments put on during slow seasons to fill up the gallery.
France:We have /Debussy/!
Norway:Ooo, Debussy! We love Debussy!
Germany:Pah! Need I say more?
England:Poland, I'm amazed you're not joining this pissing contest.
Poland:[Looks up from newspaper] Hm? Oh. We've got Chopin. Whatever. Carry on with your little squabble.
Germany:This reminds me- I met this fabulous fella named Russia. I invited him to join our little tea party. Russia!
Russia:[Pokes head around doorframe] ...
Germany:Do come sit with us!
France:Oh my, yes, please do. Don't be intimidated.
Italy:Perhaps you can learn a thing or two from us.
Poland:Wow, seriously, you invited Russia? Thanks. Thanks a lot. [Storms out]
France:...[Whispers to England] What's his problem?
England:Awkward ex. Also, don't lean so close to me.
Germany:Russia, we were just discussing how /pain/ adds a certain non-replicable profundity to music. What do you think?
Russia:...[Pulls out violin]
France:Oh my, a performance! Splendid! I warn you, good fella, you can hardly follow my act, but we'll give you some pointers. [Has a sit]
RUSSIA:[ASSAULT OF PEERLESS MUSICAL GENIUS AND ANGST] [I SHALL SWALLOW YOUR SOUL WITH DARKNESS] [EVEN MY WALTZES SHALL MAKE YOU WEEP] [THE UNIVERSE IS COLD, EMPTY, AND EXISTENTIAL] [DIE, EMOTIONS, DIE!]
Germany:[Dead on the floor]
England:... [Tea slowly spills in lap]
Italy:[Crawling toward exit, fingernails scraping at the floor]
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