The lands of chapter 3 exist. You can simply go there.
The castle exists too. Clues will appear as the book unfolds — so hold off on the riddle for now…
Today brings two pieces of music, chosen for the soft land, the ocean, the language, and the soul that sings through it.
1. “A Fadista” — Ana Moura
Studio version here:
And a beautifully atmospheric live version:
English translation of the lyrics
(condensed and smoothed for readability; original source linked below):
The Fado Singer
A black-belted dress,
Long black hair,
A shawl embroidered in black.
She walks the avenue at night;
Passersby think she’s lost —
A woman of vice and sin —
Misunderstood, insulted, hunted,
Used to being summoned.She enters the café cantante.
In a teasing tone,
For those who would try to “buy” her,
A guitar trembles.
A shadow moves
Slowly to the center of the room.
She begins to sing —
And those who would have bought her
Sit instead in silence, watching.A song ancient and deep,
Rising from the ends of the earth,
Interrupts the noise of the night.
Those listening
Seem gathered in prayer.
Even those who slighted her
Close their eyes,
As if asking forgiveness.Again the black dress,
The long dark hair,
The embroidered shawl.
Singing to that table,
She offers them the certainty
That they are forgiven.
And in front of her,
As if on an altar,
The fado is heard in silence.Source of translation: lyricstranslate.com
https://lyricstranslate.com/en/fadista-fado-singer.html (Original link)
2. “De Frou Oan It Finster” — Nynke Laverman
same track on You Tube:
A Fado variant — and a loving nod to the Frisian readers of the Dutch edition. There is such a thing as Frisian fado, and it is breathtaking.
Is that perhaps the riddle of a soft land’s language?
Does it speak with the water — or from the water: ocean, sea, lakes, channels?
A mixture of softness and firmness, and, when needed, a kind of beautiful hardness.
Water flows… but it can hardly be compressed. Very Frisian too.
Here, the dreamer’s gaze rests not in the eyes of donkeys but of cows — and the musicality is held within the language itself.
English translation
The Woman at the Window
Never does the gate open.
The window is so high
That she first sees only the earth
Stretching far away:
The river embracing the forest
In a blue curve;
Red birds, slender deer
Moving through the green.She knows nothing
Of the play of life below;
Yet it must be beautiful,
For she longs for it deeply.
She wants to embrace something —
Finds nothing to kiss
But her own shoulder,
Round and cool and tender.
The original is in Dutch. The song is sung in beautiful Frysk.
It is a poem by J. Slauerhoff (1898–1936).
Born and raised in Leeuwarden, in Friesland.
His novel The Forbidden Kingdom links directly to the soft land.
It blends fact and fiction around the poet Camões, who was exiled for his love for Diana, a lady-in-waiting coveted by the Infante. Diana refused him and entered a convent. The poem may well be about her.
While the exiled Camões sailed the world’s oceans — much like Slauerhoff himself, who worked as a ship’s doctor — this woman remained behind.
The perfect theme for a fado.
Enjoy listening.