The Faun

Pan's Dream:

Here is a sweet dream
in this bed of dreams -
to a handsome shadow -
I whisper words of love... unheard...
Unless, snoring faun,
you only pretend to sleep!
Unless, snoring faun,
you only pretend to sleep!

If you have a blemish,
I translate it to a charm
lovelier
than the flower of youth.
If the end of your tail
lies slack on your loins -
that is sweeter
than a honeycomb.

(After Nonnus)

Riverman:

Riverman, long and lean,
take me down and wash me clean,
scrub me
in between my toes.
Come and share a bed with me,
let me lay my head down on the sound
of love flowing underground.

Rainbow sang in the waterfall,
raincrow called for the clouds to break all day -
shooting sparkles through
and through; red, yellow, violet, orange,
blue, oh Riverman, I do!

Caterpillar spit his juice,
and then he chewed a sorrow loose.
Through the green of willow eyes,
it tumbled down the mountainside and broke
in two.

Rivergirls, with your pools and swirls,
skipping stones to your mossy homes,
dancing pretty dances through the trees -
Ladyslipper, bathe my soul,
come on down to the swimming hole -
expose your yodel to the breeze.
Rivergirls, you got me when you please.

Caterpillar spit his juice,
and then he chewed a sorrow loose.
Through the green of willow eyes,
it tumbled down the mountainside and broke
in two.

Now the whirlpool girls running back and forth -
Riverman's hand plunged into the sand -
Magnolia poured moonlight on the land...
Will-of-the-Hills made a spirit fire,
and we all got swirled up in desire -
till the elfin dewdrops shimmered on the lawn,
and I woke up in the long arms of the faun.

Caterpillar spit his juice,
and then he chewed a sorrow loose.
Through the green of willow eyes,
it tumbled down the mountainside and broke
in two.

Syrinx:

Descending from the mountain
Pan spies the matchless nymph, Syrinx,
and burns with new desires.
Upon his head a crown of pine
he wore, and thus
he pity he implored.

But ere he spoke, she took her flight
so swift - she's already out of sight.
Nor stayed to hear the courtship of the god,
but made her course
straight to Ladon's gentle flood.

There by the river stopped, and tired before,
relief from the water nymphs her prayers implored.
Just when the lusty god thought to seize her in his hard embrace,
he grasped the reeds instead, new risen in her place.

And while he sighs, this ill success to find,
the tender canes were shaken by the wind,
and breathed a mournful air, unheard before,
much surprising Pan, yet pleasing him more.

Admiring this new music, Thou, he said,
who cannot now be the partner of my bed,
at least shall be the comfort of my mind,
and often, often, to my lips be joined.

He formed the reeds, proportioned as they are,
and waxed with care -
Unequal in their lengths, they still retain
the name of his ungrateful fair.

(After Ovid)

The Goatman:

Who did something funky in the grotto?
Who rubbed axle grease on my horn?
Who's been smoking undies in the peace pipe?
Who put the spiders in the dorm?

Here comes the Goatman?

Whose got his finger on the secret button?
Who left those nappy hairs in my drain?
Who's pack of fags incinerated New York City?
Who helped Tonto stick it to John Wayne?

Here comes the Goatman! Make way for the Goatman!

Who put mojo in the perculator?
Who eats sugar pie with a spoon?
Who goosed you on that skanky alligator?
Who fried the eggman's coo-ka-choo?

Here comes the Goatman! Make way for the Goatman!

(Dutton and Phibes)

Pour:

Pour, then pour, then pour, then pour,
the gorgeous nectar into cups of gold!
This is the time; we celebrate it!
Let me feel the quivering notes,
pour from your pipe into my soul -
Oh my love, to celebrate!

Wreathe the wanton horns of the dancing god,
with violet grapes, swollen in the sun
for the blood-red wine skin.
Leaping in the star-streaked night
when the song of Love began -
Oh my Pan, come and pour the loving on me!

Ringlets of your shaggy thighs
cradle orbs of moon and sun,
and the penetrating beams of the ever-loving life force.
In the lap of joy
your lovers find
refuge from the fears peculiar to our kind.

From a shadowed cave, my darling leaps down,
with a sweet fetching lear,
and his fine blonde faun beard.
He takes me in his arms - lays me on the ground...
the wind sings through the reeds
while he pours the loving on me!

(Chorus after Sappho, verses after the Homeric Hymn to Pan)

Bedtime:

He's not asleep, he's on the beat
from dusk till dawn.
He is riding the wave.
He's waiting for the moon to rise.

(Dutton and Phibes)

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