The musical orgy for this night call,
During four hours in two times of this
Dissipated our taciturn features,
To the point of blown
thirst, and further than around the counter,
Their clear notes perforate our
So that our minds stretch away on their planets,
their currents which stroll
From Chet Atkins to secret Ireland.
Jean-Felix Lalanne, Soig Siberil, Jack Ada,
And Dan Ar Braz, all spread
out their talent,
Then, mixed them into spray of reseda
In front of a
stunned and stimulating audience.
The unique Jim Kline cherished His soft
With nineteen hawsers - eight ones in harp - which sound
oceanus firma. Between the foaming fingers
Of Philippe Revert, JJ Cale
Return to the tournament. Our four twisters with
painted by radiant beams,
Their nimble fingers dancing gig on the neck,
Their sweet winks burst open in silly laughter;
They hang, yes, Gaite
Sonorities for future silences,
Irish Reel until blue
From Mister Guitar: a patchwork of excellence!
is less chilly than the day before,
The two prowesses are really
If the hand dozes, Dan tricks and fills us with wonder,
the breizh cancan, but in cuddling notes.
Dan, Soig, as Jack, paralyse the
Their teeth laugh in a pig in pieces,
Bathe in Chinon towards
shores with spirit-rapper.
Jim lives Cape Verde, some others the Andalusian
Denis Between The Rusty Words
(February 14, 2005)
© IDDN 2005