Would you bring Pordonbare's scarves out of Ernio? Maybe even today. High, recessed in the long load rod, the pastor looks down towards Tolosa. There, as it was summer solstice day, the pordon dancers parade in the courtship between the ash guns tied on the portals last night. At the head of the dancers, the youngest of the councillors, half hidden in a handful of red and white carnations, with a sword in his hand. Then the Danzarines will dance on the saints, with their ribbons and red belts crossed, who kick large bouquets of red flowers on the stretcher. Blood-thinning.

It is linked to war the dance of the pordon, the dance of the silk, the dance of the alagai, the dance of the galans... It has a lot of names. The pordon is not a bad weapon, a two-meter baton. The pordon gets married with the dances of clubs and swords... All to hit: pothole, stick, sword...

With music lower than the trumpets, fanfarres and orchestras of battles, but in the string of music dance. In the soft air of the txistu, of the fool, of the whistle and of the drum, it is supported by the calving legs of the censuses, dancing pordrels.

You don't hear the guitar in these dances. Neither guitars, nor violins, will be heard in the descendants of war. There will be dances without a pordon. Instead of the red ribbons, which would evoke angry blood, silver will come back as orchestral yarns. The most modest thread of string instruments is also indicated by the Spanish bordon word, which is the grandmother of “pordoi”. It's the thickest and the lowest, the lowest.

To this violin yarn, the bow pig should shave, rubbing it soft but maturing. If it does not catch it, there are no tremors for the melody; if it comes too much, the melody will be rude... Rosin between the sow and the yarn. The art of colophony extracted from some conifer.