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The Swans Of The Great Lake

from Gangani​,​Come To The Path by Davóg Rynne

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about

Music and recording by Li’ang Zhao

Born in JiNing (birthplace of Confucius) in 1993, Chinese erhu virtuoso Li’ang Zhao was originally a traditional musician, until his arrival in France in 2012.
He was then introduced to improvised music, particularly in world music and jazz.
Virtuoso of the erhu (Chinese two-stringed violin), he is the only graduate of the DEM of Jazz (Conservatoire de Lyon, France) with a ”non classical” instrument such as the Chinese violin.
For several years, he has been reinterpreting the traditional Chinese repertoire and shaking up the codes by bringing a Rock-Jazz touch to his country’s popular melodies. Some nicknamed him the “Jimmy Hendrix” of the erhu.
He created the group “Le Projet Schinéar” in 2013, a world music group with which he has traveled all over France and performed hundreds of concerts.
Since then, he never stops experimenting with other styles with various musical formations, in order to express his tremendous energy and poetry.

The Swans Of The Great Lake- by Mongolian shaman poet Bayar Dugarov buryatmongol.org/poetry-of-bayar-dugarov/

lyrics

The Swans of the Great Lake

Swans once lived in the washbowl of the Great Lake
From them, it is told, humans have descended.
And every spring the people would go to the shore
to greet the arrival of their good winged ancestors with white steaming milk.
This was long ago, it is told.
So long ago, that it has turned into a fairy tale.
But people have learned to hate one another…
They cannot manage to share watering places and land.
And he that has more sheep considers himself happy.
And the white swans would circle in the sky,
not understanding why in the spring no one meets them with white steaming milk.
But one day a certain curious boy found out about his swan ancestry.
He lifted his eyes to the sky in astonishment.
To the empy sky, there were only huge steel birds
sinking into the expanse with a roar, silent and sad…
He trudged to the Great Lake in search of the white birds.
He didn’t notice he had circled half the world.
But he had found no swans.
So he sat on the hot asphalt and began to cry-
The boy had grown old.
Squint your eyes into slits,
like the mark left by the Mongolian saber,
Absorbing the essence of earthy time from the sea of eternity drop by drop
Why did the neighing avalanche sweep through…
Trampling down the gardens, the fields?
The century of super-epic speeds descends upon the steppe like daybreak.
And punishment for the galloping of the horses, lasting too long.
And for the flash of the swords, blind and raging.
I recover my sight in the cities
Where signs of the Gobi desert appear indistinctly.
And I pass judgement upon the new times according to Europe, covered in birch.
I hear the roots act as shaman,
and I hear the rustle of the leaves,
and the consciousness of a higher kinship
Drowns out the voice of my blood

credits

from Gangani​,​Come To The Path, released December 14, 2022

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