|
|
楼主 |
发表于 2026-1-13 02:07:08
|
显示全部楼层
本帖最后由 Reader86 于 2026-3-5 11:27 AM 编辑
Smitten in the Charm of F minor
-- Johannes Brahms Op. 11
This vacation is
a bailout.
I leave my poems, too,
Who is serenading
outside the tent?
on my desk.
Among
the speechless stones,
my feet
slap the walk.
Who is serenading
outside the tent?
Neapolitan sixth chord
bites back words.
Clarinet and bassoon
grumble.
The melodies echo
the same old sentiment,
in the valley
of another epoch.
A few days in nature,
Pipes and strings melt
into the purling brook;
inside of it,
pebbles tinkle bright.
From the top of the hill,
I survey
the pastoral meadow—
Ah, sweetness in the dreams
not far off.
Smitten in the Charm of Music
— After Johannes Brahms, Op. 11
This vacation
is a bailout.
I leave my poems too
on my desk at home.
Among
the speechless stones,
my feet trace
the winding track.
Who is serenading
outside the tent?
A Neapolitan sixth
bites the words back.
Clarinet and bassoon
grumble low.
The melody, in twin motifs,
echoes the same sentiment
in the valley
of another epoch.
I wait for daybreak—
to hear pipes and strings
dissolve into the purling brook,
to sense the pebbles’ bright chime;
to survey the pastoral meadow
from the crest of the hill,
where the sweetness
permeates the D-Major in view.
Note: Brahms’ momentary hesitation
turned what could have been a symphony
to be christened a “Serenade.” Following
Schumann’s passing, it is said that Brahms
fell in love with his mentor’s elegant wife.
The third movement, irresolute and filled
with lingering melancholy, is the ultimate
expression of this yearning, and the most
beautiful part too. Perhaps “Serenade”
fits this masterpiece best after all.
|
|
发表于 2024-2-29 13:54:39
