Let’s get going, the time has come
To scatter caution to the winds,
So stamp your feet and beat the drum,
Let loose your hair, cast off your skins.
Who cares should they choose to sum,
At this late hour, the total of our sins.
Pass the golden cup from left to right.
Dance around the devil and his coins.
Dance the dervish out of sight.
Dance the fever from your loins.
Dance away the longest night.
Dance to make the last links join.
Sing until it seems your lungs must burst.
Then sing and sing again until
You’re forced to stop to slake your thirst.
Then sing again just for the thrill
Of singing with the blessed, the cursed,
Those who sing no matter what their masters will.
Fire your A.K.s in the air.
Stamp upon the monster’s face.
Drive the ogre from its lair.
Fire your rockets into space
And if your brother asks you where
We’re going - point straight ahead to Martyr’s Square.
Around your head a flowery ring,
Across your face a seamless smile,
Together to that place we’ll bring
No bitterness or bile,
For this is what it means, this spring,
Joy after joy, mile after mile.
We none of us know how it will end, but if only we could bottle some of the exhilaration!
The title of the poem was suggested in a translation of a word in southern Indian dialect by Rhagu Dixit interviewed by Mary Ann Kennedy on last week’s ‘Global Gathering’. 'The juice of joy' described the feeling that should be shared by a musician and an audience.
PS Health update. As you can see I'm still writing. Things are pretty much the same and though my lack of mobility is v. frustrating, I am comfortable otherwise and in good spirits. Kath is performing wonders to see that I am well cared for and many thanks to the constant stream of friends who come to visit. Have also discovered the benefits of Skype where you may find me under rejgoch.