Hello, how are you? How was your week? I am recovering from a dental procedure today, so my week has not been 100% fun. But then whose is? Anyway, it's time for more Babelfishing poetry, where I take song lyrics, run them through an on-line translator such as (but not necessarily) Babelfish, tweak the punctuation a bit, and wind up with a quirky kind of poem.
This week's feature, chosen at random, is the 1940s jazz standard "How High The Moon" (listen to the incomparable Ella Fitzgerald sing the song here, or listen to jazz pianist Erroll Garner's rollicking version here, or listen to Benny Goodman's smooth version here, or watch video of Les Paul & Mary Ford swing their way through the song here, or listen to Art Tatum's galloping version here). Enjoy.
It Is Not A Medicine Without A Wow
Is there no music for the hunt?
That's why it hides the word
somewhere in the sky.
Several months;
there are no more months.
I loved your family.
Beautification is not fair.
You used to love me.
Do you have music?
Are you there?
Come on in.
I trust and honor too.
The night is very dark and bright.
If you come to me soon
while you are with me
several months.
Several months.
Catch the star.
Several months.
Will you be there in March?
The tests won't be accurate either.
We asked him how high, how and how high she was.
The moon is at the top.
It was a ball.
I like Oh-Oh Don.
I will give it to you;
it's yours.
D and d-dehydon.
This is a prophet;
hot.
Bounabi Dee.
Ask for Mazzazza Woo Doe E.
Oh, by God, by God.
Bab de Bab Relin.
This is a black card for Ondalade.
The moon was big.
Work support.
It is not a medicine without a wow.
When commands the day,
Ophelia?
.