September song

combine c colar2REDUX

Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn’t got time for the waiting game

Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I’ll spend with you
These precious days I’ll spend with you…

(Maxwell Anderson / Kurt Weill, September song)

Advertisements

15 thoughts on “September song

  1. Your photos are so good (and fitting well with the fall season theme…)

    The song is good too. I so wish I could play piano like that. I think someday, I’ll try very hard, for a couple of years in a row, to up my skills a bit in that department. Not with the hope of becoming a virtuoso, of course, but when I hear songs like the one you posted, I wish I could be able to let melodies wanders in and around a piece more freely… It must be very liberating, musically…

    Is it my imagination or you said somewhere that you’ve played piano at some point?

    • …they are so many versions of this music, that I love so much…but miss Billie Holliday really fitted my mood… thank you, Ben for your kind words…
      …yes, at some point I played the piano, it is true…

      …will you made a version of this song too?…

      • My version of that song?

        Sure; just wait around twenty to thirty years… 😉

        (…and, out of curiosity, do you still play piano sometimes?)

  2. Can’t make it shorter I fear… I would love to play piano, but all I can do are the same old chords year after year… piano is a tough beast to tame I think…

  3. Beautiful self portraits, my friend.

    You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.
    Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: