[…] […] SkyLarkStudioNZ.com
image
image
image
image



 All Emergence Music is available for free download.
Just Left click to listen to any track or Right click on a song to download for free,
 "save target as" or "save link as" to save the track on your computer.
Please note..not for resale or commercial use without my permission.

Enjoy

David McCarthy
Emergence Music


CD 1 Through the Clouds

 1- Through the Clouds 19:14
2- Swept Away 6:32
3- Gaia 12:41
4- Signs of Warning 17:42
5- One 7:43
6- Swept Away remix 12:38
7- Mother. remix from Signs of Warning 5:18


CD 2 EveryOne

 8- Stay Present 19:14
9- First Flight 8:19
10- Nature Dances 9:05
11- One Fine Morning 26:05
12- Earth 3:51
13- Wings of Love 13:34
14- Voices 3:48


Unreleased Tracks 1998-2009

 15- 2008 NuWa Dreams. Chinese Narration 4:24
16- 2008 NuWa Dreams 4:24
17- 1998 All my Relations 5:34
18- 1998 The Throne 4:04
19- 1998 The Veil 8:55
20- 1998 Thunder in your Heart 5:35
21- 1998 Calling 6:12
22- 1998 This Moment 2:07
23- 1998 The Red Lion 5:17
24- 2007 The Earth is Sacred 14:58: Chief Seattle’s speech of 1854
with German French Italian Chinese and English translations"
25- 2007 The Earth is Sacred 7:48: with Spanish translation
26- 2007 The Earth is Sacred 7:48: Instrumental
27- 2006 Bhutan 12:13
28- 2009 The Earth is Sacred 7:50: with Russian translation
29- 2009 The Earth is Sacred 7:44: with Chinese translation
30- 2005 Flute and Bells improvisation 3:18

 


Current SkyLark projects 2010-11

  • The Worms "Swept Away" music video.
    Chief Seattle "The Earth is Sacred" music video.
    Signs of warning" music video.
    Earth music video.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Cultural/Art project translation Chief Seattle's oration of 1854.


From the emergence music track "The Earth is Sacred"

English version

Every part of the Earth is sacred , Every shining pine needle
Every sandy shore, Every mist in the dark woods
Every meadow, Every humming insect
All are holy in the memory and the experience of our Spirit

We know the sap that courses through the trees
As we know the blood that courses through our veins
We are part of the Earth and it is part of us

The perfumed flowers are our sisters
The bear, the deer, the great eagle
These are our brothers
The rocky crests, The dew in the meadow
The body heat of the pony
And man all belong to the same family

Remember that the air is precious
That the air shares its spirit with all the life that it supports
The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath,
Also received his last sigh

The wind also gives our children the spirit of life
Keep this sacred Earth as a place where man can go
To taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers
Will you teach your children that the Earth is our mother?
What befalls the Earth befalls all the sons of the Earth

This we know:
The Earth does not belong to man
Man belongs to the Earth

All things are connected like the blood that unites us all.
Man did not weave the web of life
He is merely a stand in it.
Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself

The Earth is precious to the divine source.
To harm the Earth is to heap contempt on its creator.




Russian

Всё на Земле священно

  Всё на Земле священно.

И хвоя сияющей сосны,

И песчаный берег,

И прозрачный туман в темном лесу,

И луга, и легкое жужжание насекомых –

Все свято в памяти и жизни духа.

 

Мы знаем, что сок питает деревья,

Как кровь, текущая в наших жилах.

Мы – частица Земли, и Земля – частица в каждом из нас.

 

Благоухающие цветы – наши сестры.

И медведь, и олень, и могучий орел –

Все они - наши братья.

И каменистые вершины, и капля росы в траве,

И разгоряченный конь, и всадник

Они – одна семья

 

Помните, что воздух бесценен,

Что он одухотворяет все живое.

Ветер, что вдохнул жизнь в наших предков,

Был и последним их вздохом.

Он же рождает дух жизни в наших детях.

 

Храните эту священную Землю,

Чтобы каждый мог почувствовать сладость ветра,

Наполненного ароматами цветов.

Объясните ли Вы своим детям, что их мать – Земля?

Все, что переживает Земля, переживает и каждый из нас.

 

Знайте: Земля не принадлежит человеку,

Человек принадлежит Земле.

 

Все в мире связано единой кровью.

Не человеком соткано полотно жизни.

Он лишь нить в этом полотне.

Всего его поступки отражаются на нем самом.

 

Земля дорога божественном источнику.

Причиняя вред Земле, мы оскорбляем творца.






Spanish
Cada partícula de la Tierra es sagrada.
Cada aguja de pino reluciente.
Cada playa de arena.
Cada gota de neblina en la oscuridad de los bosques.
Cada prado.
Cada insecto que zumba.
Todo es sagrado para la memoria y la vivencia de tu Espíritu.
Conoces a la savia que corre por los árboles
tanto como a la sangre que corre por tus venas.

Somos parte de la Tierra y la Tierra es parte de nosotros.
Las flores perfumadas son nuestras hermanas.
El oso, el ciervo, el águila majestuosa
son nuestros hermanos.
Las cimas rocosas.
El rocío de la pradera.
El cuerpo fogoso del potro.
El hombre…
Todos pertenecen a la misma familia.

Recuerda que el aire es precioso.
El aire comparte su espíritu con toda la vida que sustenta.
El viento que le dio a nuestros antecesores su primer aliento,
también recogió su último suspiro.
El viento infunde en nuestros hijos el espíritu de la vida.

Conserva esta Tierra sagrada como un lugar en donde el hombre
pueda saborear el viento que endulzan las flores de la pradera.
Enséñales a tus hijos que la Tierra es nuestra madre.
Lo que le acontece a la Tierra, les acontece a sus hijos.

Esto es lo que sabemos:
La Tierra no le pertenece al hombre;
el hombre pertenece a la Tierra.
Todo está conectado entre sí como la sangre que nos une a todos.
El hombre no tejió la tela de la vida,
es sólo una hebra de la misma.
Lo que haga con el tejido, se lo hace a sí mismo.

La Tierra es muy valiosa para la fuente divina.
Dañar a la Tierra es mostrar desprecio por su creador.




German

Jeder Teil dieser Erde ist heilig.

Jede glänzende Tannennadel, jedes sandige Ufer,

jeder Nebel in den dunklen Wäldern, jede Lichtung und jedes summende

Insekt ist heilig in den Gedanken und Erfahrungen meines

Volkes. Wir kennen den Saft, der in den Bäumen aufsteigt wie wir das Blut kennen,

das durch unsere Adern flieβt.

 

Wir sind ein Teil der Erde, und sie ist ein Teil von uns.

Die duftenden Blumen sind unsere Schwestern,

der Bär, die Rehe, der große Adler – sie sind unsere Brüder.

Die felsigen Bergrücken, der Tau auf den Wiesen,

die Körperwärme des Ponys - und der Mensch –

sie alle gehören derselben Familie an.

 

Dies eine wissen wir: die Erde gehört nicht den Menschen,

der Mensch gehört der Erde.

Alles ist miteinander verbunden wie das Blut, das uns alle vereint.

 

Der Mensch hat das Netz des Lebens nicht geknüpft,

er ist nur ein Faden darin.

Alles was er dem Netz antut, tut er sich selbst an.

Die Erde ist kostbar für die göttliche Quelle, und der Erde Schaden zuzufügen bedeutet,

ihren Schöpfer geringzuschätzen.

 




The authentic text of Chief Seattle's treaty oration of 1854
 by Dr. Henry A. Smith. The Seattle Sunday Star. Oct, 29, 1887.


Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold,
and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change.
Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds.
My words are like the stars that never change.
Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty
as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons.

The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill.
This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return.
His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies.
My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain.

The great, and I presume good, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our land
but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably.
This indeed appears just, even generous,
for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect,
and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country.

There was a time when our people covered the land
as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor,
but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes
that are now but a mournful memory.
I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay,
nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it,
as we too may have been somewhat to blame.

Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong,
and disfigure their faces with black paint,
it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless,
and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has ever been.

Thus it was when the white man began to push our forefathers ever westward.
But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return.
We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain.
Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives,
but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better.

Our good father in Washington for I presume he is now our father as well as yours,
since King George has moved his boundaries further north our great and good father,
I say, sends us word that if we do as he desires he will protect us.
His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war
will fill our harbors, so that our ancient enemies far to the northward
the Haidas and Tsimshians will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men.
Then in reality he will be our father and we his children.

But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine!
He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the paleface
and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son.
But, He has forsaken His Red children,
if they really are His. Our God, the Great Spirit,
seems also to have forsaken us.

Your God makes your people wax stronger every day.
Soon they will fill all the land. Our people are ebbing away
like a rapidly receding tide that will never return.
The white man's God cannot love our people or He would protect them.
They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help.
How then can we be brothers?
How can your God become our God
and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness?

If we have a common Heavenly Father
He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children. We never saw Him.
He gave you laws but had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes
once filled this vast continent as stars fill the firmament.
No; we are two distinct races with separate origins and separate destinies.
There is little in common between us.

To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground.
You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret.
Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God
so that you could not forget.
The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it.
Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors -- the dreams of our old men,
given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems,
and is written in the hearts of our people.

Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity
as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars.
They are soon forgotten and never return.
Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being.
They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains,
sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn
in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living,
and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them.

Day and night cannot dwell together.
The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man,
as the morning mist flees before the morning sun.
However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it
and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace,
for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature
speaking to my people out of dense darkness.

It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days.
They will not be many. The Indian's night promises to be dark.
Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon.
Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man's trail,
and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer
and prepare stolidly to meet his doom,
as does the wounded doe that hears
the approaching footsteps of the hunter.

A few more moons, a few more winters,
and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land
or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit,
will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours.
But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people?
Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea.
It is the order of nature, and regret is useless.
Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come,
for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend,
cannot be exempt from the common destiny.
We may be brothers after all. We will see.

We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know.
But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied
the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors,
friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people.
Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove,
has been hallowed by some sad or happy event
in days long vanished.

Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun
along the silent shore,thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people,
and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours,
This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return.
because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors,
and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch.

This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return.
At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent
and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them
and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.

Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless.
Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.





Free Desktop Wallpapers

 wallpaper wallpaper wallpaper wallpaper wallpaper wallpaper



image
image