Mangroves are various kinds of trees up to medium height and shrubs that grow in saline coastal sediment habitats in the tropics and subtropics – mainly between latitudes 25° N and 25° S. The remaining mangrove forest areas of the world in 2000 was 53,190 square miles (137,760 km²) spanning 118 countries and territories. The word is used in at least three senses: (1) most broadly to refer to the habitat and entire plant assemblage or mangal,[page needed] for which the terms mangrove forest biome, mangrove swamp and mangrove forest are also used, (2) to refer to all trees and large shrubs in the mangrove swamp, and (3) narrowly to refer to the mangrove family of plants, the Rhizophoraceae, or even more specifically just to mangrove trees of the genus Rhizophora. The term "mangrove" comes to English from Spanish (perhaps by way of Portuguese), and is of Caribbean origin, likely Taíno. It was earlier "mangrow" (from Portugues mangue or Spanish mangle), but this was corrupted via folk etymology influence of "grove".
Peter Joshua Sculthorpe AO OBE (born 29 April 1929) is an Australian composer. Much of his music has resulted from an interest in the music of Australia's neighbours as well as from the impulse to bring together aspects of native Australian music with that of the heritage of the West. He is known primarily for his orchestral and chamber music, such as Kakadu (1988) and Earth Cry (1986), which evoke the sounds and feeling of the Australian bushland and outback. He has also written 17 string quartets, using unusual timbral effects, works for piano, and two operas. He has stated that he wants his music to make people feel better and happier for having listened to it. He has typically avoided the dense, atonal techniques of many of his contemporary composers. His work has often been distinguished by its distinctive use of percussion.
Sculthorpe was born and grew up in Launceston, Tasmania. His mother (Edna) was passionate about English literature and his father (Joshua) loved fishing and nature.
When this road becomes too narrow for us both,
And the circle around us grows,
I keep my head above the water,
And turn my blood to stone...!
I am what I am,
Softened down and build to rust,
These machines we bury under clay,
Leave us rotting down, under ground,
And turn to dust!
Tie your hands around my neck,
And keep on holding 'till it bleeds,
The seed we just planted in our eyes,
Swept us both with our creed!
I am what I am,
Softened down and built to rust,
These machines we bury under clay,
Leave us rotting down, under ground,
And turn to dust!
The less we drain outselves,
The more we stain our hands,
And as I stir your surface,
My bones turn to sand.
The less we drain outselves,
The more we stain our hands,
And as I stir your surface,
My bones turn to sand.
I am what I am,
Softened down and built to rust,
These machines we bury under clay,
Leave us rotting down, under ground,