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Wednesday, September 15, 2010

A song for Steve (no baseball content)



I had just finished reading Jimmy Buffett's autobiography, "A Pirate Looks at Fifty" about a week or so ago. He wrote it as he flew from Florida, across Cuban airspace to Grand Cayman Island, and then to Costa Rica where he spent some time before flying to Venezuela, the Amazon in central Brazil, then back north again ...stopping at several islands in the Lesser Antilles, including one where he lived for a while. I had always wanted to visit the Caribbean Islands, and added Costa Rica to the list after listening to Steve talk about his prior trip to CR, and after reading of Buffett's time spent there. It truly sounded like a magical place to visit or to live. My head spins from the thought of a senseless act of violence that happened to Steve in such a beautiful place. I don't know exactly which harbour he wrote this song about, but this version was recorded on one of those islands. I suppose it could have been written about Costa Rica. I can picture Steve there, a beautiful place to leave this realm, no matter what the circumstances are. A song for Steve.




One Particular Harbour, by Jimmy Buffett






Ia ora te natura
E mea arofa teie ao nei
Ia ora te natura
E mea arofa teie ao nei

I know I don't get there often enough
But God knows I surely try
It's a magic kind of medicine
That no doctor could prescribe

I used to rule my world from a pay phone
And ships out on the sea
But now times are rough
And I got too much stuff

Can't explain the likes of me
But there's this one particular harbour
So far but yet so near
Where I see the days as they fade away
And finally disappear

But now I think about the good times
Down in the Caribbean sunshine
In my younger days I was so bad
Laughin' about all the fun we had

I've seen enough to feel the world spin
Mixin' different oceans meetin' cousins
Listen to the drummers and the night sounds
Listen to the singers make the world go round

Ia ora te natura...

Lakes below the mountains
Flow into the sea
Like oils applied to canvas
They permeate through me

And there's that one particular harbour
Sheltered from the wind
Where the children play on the shore each day
And all are safe within
Most mysterious calling harbour
So far but yet so near
I can see the day when my hair's full gray
And I finally disappear

Ia ora te natura...
Ua pau te maitai no te fenua
Te zai noa ra te ora o te mitie

1 comment:

Sonoma Dave said...

Every once in a while I post something here that I don't post on Fenway West. This is one of those occasions.