Let me come with you. What a moon there is tonight!
The moon is kind – it won’t show
that my hair turned white. The moon
will turn my hair to gold again. You wouldn’t understand.
Let me come with you.
When there’s a moon the shadows in the house grow larger,
invisible hands draw the curtains,
a ghostly finger writes forgotten words in the dust
on the piano – I don’t want to hear them. Hush.
Verses long forgotten come to mind. From the poem by Yannis Ritsos (1909-1990), Η σονάτα του σεληνόφωτος / Moonlight sonata.
As always in poetry, nuance is lost in translation. But it is this or none at all.
October 16th, 2016
”Brahms’s Ein deutsches Requiem was written not for the dead, but for the living. The composer himself called it the “human” requiem—otherworldly music to accompany those who seek to transcend our human condition. For this unique theatrical choral event staged by Jochen Sandig and gracefully scored for piano four hands and choir, conductor Simon Halsey and Rundfunkchor Berlin craft an immersive experience of remarkable artistry where the standing audience moves organically with the production—and division between performer and audience, life and death, light and dark all seem to dissolve.”~ Excerpt from the programme.
The Humble Fabulist 