15 January 2011

Tagore and talk of tunes


Have I mentioned that I love Tagore?

Stray Birds I have been reading lately:




My heart beats her waves at the shore of the world and writes upon it her signature in tears with the words, "I love thee."

*

The waterfall sings, "I find my song, when I find my freedom."

*

The world rushes on over the strings of the lingering heart making the music of sadness.

*

Wrong cannot afford defeat but Right can.

*

I think of other ages that floated upon the stream of life and love and death and are forgotten, and I feel the freedom of passing away.

*

The hills are like shouts of children who raise their arms, trying to catch stars.

*

The Great is a born child; when he dies he gives his great childhood to the world.

*

I carry in my world that flourishes the worlds that have failed.

*

I feel, thy beauty, dark night, like that of the loved woman when she has put out the lamp.

*

Woman, with the grace of your fingers you touched my things and order came out like music.

*

One sad voice has its nest among the ruins of the years. It sings to me in the night,--"I loved you."

*

A mind all logic is like a knife all blade.
It makes the hand bleed that uses it.

*

The burning log bursts in flame and cries,--"This is my flower, my death."

*

Maiden, your simplicity, like the blueness of the lake, reveals your depth of truth.

*

Our desire lends the colours of the rainbow to the mere mists and vapours of life.

*

The storm is like the cry of some god in pain whose love the earth refuses.

*

Life has become richer by the love that has been lost.

*

Timid thoughts, do not be afraid of me.
I am a poet.

*

I do not ask thee into the house. Come into my infinite loneliness, my Lover.

*

Light in my heart the evening star of rest and then let the night whisper to me of love.

*

We live in this world when we love it.

*

That love can ever lose is a fact that we cannot accept as truth.

*

The prelude of the night is commenced in the music of the sunset, in its solemn hymn to the ineffable dark.

*


That is a small selection of the 326 terse verses which reveal in their aching beauty that the hunger to discover the beauty of existence is beauty itself; and that existence is all beauty. What I'm saying is that it is beautiful. There's a superfluous exegesis if ever there was one.


Anyway, apparently there is a musical genre called Art song. I stumbled across this and found there is a famous song called Do Not Go, My Love composed by R. Hageman. The lyrics are by Tagore from The Gardener. This is the best version I found on YouTube so far:



Nice, hey?

Serendiply, I also found out there is an Art Song Canberra and now I have a concert to look forward to at the end of February.

Apparently to Wikipedia, my man Schubert is the greatest art song composer ever. That's funny, because I have Die schöne Müllerin, I bought it before I had even heard of art song and haven't listened to it yet. The story is extravagently German and I can't imagine it will be that cheerful a listen.

For the last few days I have been listening to Schubert's Death and the Maiden String Quartet in the car. He wrote it when he realised he was dying, but it is not depressing at all. This is the same version I have on cd:










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