“The angels play on their horns all day
The whole earth in progression seems to pass by
But does anyone hear the music they play
Does anyone even try?”
(Bob Dylan in Three Angels)
Wagnelée (B)
A kind of hanging
“I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other times it’s only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.”
(Bob Dylan in Every grain of sand)
Wagnelée (B)
A bit helplessly
Emergency theatre
High pressure
"Blow, trumpeter, free and clear -- I follow thee, While at thy liquid prelude, glad, serene, The fretting world, the streets, the noisy hours of day, withdraw; A holy calm descends, like dew, upon me, I walk, in cool refreshing night, the walks of Paradise ..." (W. Whitman in The mystic trumpeter) Ougrée (B)