PDF Wenn die Trommeln verstummen (German Edition)

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Most of the musicians on these recordings are native-born, which is hardly surprising. This repertory poses special problems for foreign singers, and idiomatic French pronunciation is just one hurdle to overcome. Then, too, there are the ways in which composers have treated the flow and contour of the language - subtleties of phrasing and rhythmic shaping that are not readily grasped by non-French speaking singers.

German lieder presents fewer such challenges with its more regular pulse patterns and comparatively direct narrativelyrical style that has its roots in the simplicity of German folk song.

Full text of "German American Annals"

The melodie, as the French song came to be called in the 19th century, developed in conjunction with Romantic poetry as French composers, traditionally sensitive to the verbal music of their spoken language, began to free themselves from rigidly formal, voice-dominated strophic settings to reflect the fluidity of the verses. Prosody was a vital concern, while the musical settings invariably emphasize clarity, grace and balance. Primary emotions or deep passions are usually suggested rather than overtly stated.

The expressive ambiguity of a melodie is one source of its special fascination, and the delicate juxtaposition of manner and sentiment poses additional interpretive problems. Faure wrote songs throughout his long life, slowly creating an individual style from his first unabashedly lyrical songs to the refined, coolly detached classicism of his late cycles. Most of Debussy's efforts were from the early years of his career. His first songs tend toward a rather impersonal prettiness, but after he had come under the influence of Verlaine, Beaudelaire and Louys, his style began to mirror these poets' seductive eroticism and mysterious world of half-lit dreams.

Poulenc was perhaps the last great French composer of songs. For their combination of wit, sophistication, melodiousness, gaiety, profundity and sheer inventiveness, these fastidiously fashioned gems seem to sum up everything that makes the melodie unique. The performances on these disks may vary in quality, but on the whole each set is a superb achievement.

Elly Ameling, Gerard Souzay and the pianist Dalton Baldwin are heard on all three, and their expertise in this literature is never in doubt.

DIE TROMMELN VERSTUMMEN GERMAN DOCUMENT Original (PDF)

Although intended primarily for the French market, each handsomely designed album includes English translations of the texts. These imported records are ferociously expensive and only available in limited quantities, but they are well worth searching out. The Canadian baritone Bruno Laplante, with Janine Lachance at the piano, has recorded a virtual mini-history of French song for Calliope, including examples from several composers sparsely represented on disks.

Many of these songs may not rival those of Faure, Debussy or Poulenc in quality or consistency, but each composer made a distinctly personal contribution to the repertory.

Laplante's supple voice and graceful interpretations make these disks a highly attractive proposition. The veteran French tenor Hugues Cuenod is now 78, but still a singer of exquisite style and sensitivity - even his voice, which was never a very sensuous instrument to begin with, miraculously seems warmer and more pliant than it did 30 years ago. Free download. Book file PDF easily for everyone and every device.


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Max Giesinger - Band-Geplapper & Wenn Alles Verstummt

Sonja Evening returns in the old garden Along Corn and grape are cut Autumn Soul [version 2] Hunter's call and bloody baying Afra [version 2] A child with brown hair Autumn of the Lonely The dark autumn returns filled Rest and Silence Shepherds buried the sun in the bleak forest Anif Memory: gulls, gliding over the dark sky Birth Mountains: blackness, silence and snow Decline [version 5] Over the white pond Spiritual Dusk [version 2] A dark deer encounters silently Occidental Song O the nocturnal wing beat of the soul Transfiguration When evening appears Foehn Blind lament in the wind The Wanderer [version 2] Always, the white night leans Karl Kraus White pontiff of truth To the Muted O, the insanity of the large city Passion [version 3] When Orpheus silverly stirs the lyre Seven-song of Death Bluely spring dusks Winter Night Snow has fallen In Venice Silence in the nocturnal room Limbo By autumnal walls The Sun Daily the yellow sun comes Song of a Captive Blackbird Dark breathe in the green branches Summer In the evening the cuckoo's lament End of Summer The green summer has become Year Dark silence of childhood Occident [version 4] Moon, as if a dead thing Springtime of the Soul Outcry in sleep In Darkness [version 2] The soul silences the blue springtime Song of the Departed The flight of birds is full of harmonies Dream and Derangement - Prose In the evening, the father became an old man In Hellbrunn Following the blue lament The Heart The wild heart became white Sleep [version 2] Accursed you dark poisons The Thunderstorm You wild mountains The Evening Moon, with dead heroic figures The Night I sing you, wild fissure The Gloom You are enormous, dark mouth.

The Homecoming [version 2] The coolness of dark years Lament Youth, out of a crystal mouth Surrender at Night [version 5] Monkess! In the East The people's dark rage Lament Sleep and death, the sinister eagles Grodek [version 2] In the evening the autumn woods resound Revelation and Decline - Prose Strange are the nightly paths of men The Morning Song Now stride down, titanic fellow Dream Wanderer Where are you, who walked The Three Ponds of Hellbrunn [version 2] Around the flowers the blowflies reel The Three Ponds in Hellbrunn [version 3] Wandering along the black walls Peter's Cemetery All around is rocky isolation A Spring Evening A shrub filled with larvae In an Old Garden Mignonette scent drifts away Evening Round Dance [version 2] Aster fields brown and blue Night Soul [version 2] Taciturnly a blue deer descended Night Soul [version 3] Taciturnly a blue deer descended Dream Country.

An Episode From the Golden Chalice. Barrabas - A fantasy From the Golden Chalice. Mary Magdalene - A dialog Abandonment. A novel by Franz Karl Ginzkey. Arranged by Trakl as a survey of his poems written up to Later he did not consider these texts to be of any importance. Three Dreams I think, I dreamed of falling leaves From the Still Days So ghostly are these late days Dusk You are rumpled, distorted Autumn ['Decay', version 1] In the evening when the bells The Horror I saw myself go through abandoned rooms Devotion Not lost from my young years Sabbat A breath of feverish poisonous plants Song in the Night Born from the shadow of a breath The Deep Song From deep night I was released Ballad A fool wrote three signs in the sand Ballad A heart laments Ballad A sultry garden stood the night Melusine At my windows the night weeps Decay A wind is blowing Poem A pious song came to me Night Song Over nocturnal dark floods By a Window Above the roofs the sky's blue Colorful Autumn ['Music in Mirabell', version 1] The fountain sings The Three Ponds in Hellbrunn [version 1] Around the flowers the blowflies Gipsy The longing flames Nature Theater Now I step through the slender gate Exhausting Putrefaction of dream-created paradises Closing Chord The last, pale light went from the day Accord Very bright tones in the thin winds Crucifixus He is the God before whom the poor kneel Confiteor The colored pictures which life paints Silence Over the forests the moon Before Sunrise In the dark many bird voices call Blood Guilt Night threatens at the bed of our kisses Encounter The stranger on the way Perfection My brother, let us go more silent Metamorphosis An eternal light glows dark-red Evening Walk I go into the evening The Saint When in the hell of self-created sufferings To a Woman Passer-by I have once seen passing-by The Dead Church On dark benches they sit packed Melusine What just woke me The Night of the Poor Dusk falls Night Song Strike me pain De profundis The chamber of the dead is full of night At the Cemetery Rotten stone towers sultrily warmed Sunny Afternoon A branch rocks me in the deep blue Age An animal face in the brown green The Shadow Since I sat in the garden Quaint Spring Probably around the deep midday The Dream of an Afternoon Be silent!

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Summer Sonata Rotten fruits smell stunning Luminous Hour Far on the hill flute-sounds Childhood Memory The sun shines alone An Evening In the evening the sky was overcast Season Ruby-veins crept into the foliage In Wine Country The sun paints courtyard and walls The Dark Valley In pines a migration of crows Summer Dawn In the green ether suddenly a star In the Moonlight An army of vermin Fairy Tale Rockets drizzle in the yellow sunshine A Spring Evening Come evening, friend who surrounds my forehead Elegy The girlfriend juggling with green flowers Springtime of the Soul Flowers scattered blue and white Western Dusk A faun-cry romps through sparks The Church Painted angels guard the altars To Angela [version 1] A lonely destiny in abandoned rooms To Angela [version 2] A lonely destiny in abandoned rooms In milk and desolation Winter Walk in A-Minor Red spheres often emerge Always Darker The wind, which moves purple treetops En-route [version 1] A scent of myrrh En-route [version 2] A scent of myrrh December ['December Sonnet', version 1] In the evening jugglers travel December Sonnet [version 2] In the evening jugglers travel Green-golden the day arises A carpet, into which the suffering landscape pales Rosy mirror: an ugly image The song of the spring rain is dark On the Edge of an Old Well [version 2] Dark interpretation of the water Along Walls An old path goes along A paleness, resting in the shadow With rosy stages the stone sinks The blue night has softly risen O the dwelling in the stillness In the Evening A blue brook Justice Huts of childhood Sister's Garden [version 1] It's already cool Sister's Garden [version 2] In sister's garden silent and still W ind, white voice that whispers The dew of spring, which falls down O the defoliated beeches To Novalis [version 1] Resting in crystalline earth To Novalis [version 2b] In dark earth the holy stranger Hour of Grief Blackish the step follows the gleaming moon Nocturnal Lament [version 2] The night has risen over the rumpled forehead To Johanna Often I hear your steps Melancholy The blue soul has mutely closed Please ['To Lucifer', version 1] Send your flames to the spirit Please ['To Lucifer', version 2] Send your flames to the spirit To Lucifer [version 3] Lend your flame to the spirit Blue evening take someone's temple In the Evening [version 2] The grass is still yellow With the Young Wine [version 1] Sun sets purple With the Young Wine [version 2] Sun sets purple The night devoured red faces Homecoming When the evening breathes Daydreaming [version 1] Soft life grows in the stillness Daydreaming [version 2] Soft life grows in the stillness around Daydreaming [version 3] Lovers go by hedges Psalm Stillness; as if blind people sank down Autumnal Homecoming [version 2] Memory, buried hope Autumnal Homecoming [version 3] Memory, buried hope Remnant [version 2] O spiritual reunion Age More spiritually the wild roses The Sunflowers You golden sunflowers So seriously o summer dusk Double Versions of the poems published in lifetime.

Colorful Autumn ['Music in Mirabell', version 2] A fountain sings Dream of Evil [version 2] O these lime-whitewashed, bleak alleys Dream of Evil [version 3] Fading away of a death-bell's sounds Quietly ['Melancholy', version 1] In the stubble field a black wind thunders Melancholia ['Melancholy', version 2] Bluish shadows. Cheerful Spring [version 1] When newly greened the brook flows Psalm [version 1] It is a light, which the wind In the Hospital ['Human Mourning', version 1] The clock that strikes twelve Human Mourning [version 3] The clock that strikes five before the sun Elis [version 1] P erfect is the stillness Elis [version 2] Elis, when the blackbird calls December ['At the Moor', version 1] The coat in the black wind At the Moor [version 4] Wanderer in the black wind Summer ['Evening in Lans', version 1] Summer under lime-whitewashed arches Memory - Prose [Fr.

Evening Mirror ['Afra', version 1] A child with brown hair Decline [version 4] Under the dark arches of our gloom At the Hill ['Spiritual Dusk', version 1] A dark deer passed off silently Wanderer's Sleep ['The Wanderer', version 1] Always the white night leans Passion [version 1] When Orpheus silverly stirs the lyre Passion [version 2] When Orpheus silverly stirs the lyre Occident [version 1a] Decayed hamlets sank Wanderings ['Occident', version 1b] So quiet are the green forests Occident [version 2] Decayed hamlets sank Occident [version 3] Moon, as if a dead shape Along Walls ['In Darkness', version 1] Never the golden countenance of spring In Snow ['Surrender at Night', version 1] Contemplate the truth Sight ['Surrender at Night', version 2] Since the autumn so red To the Night ['Surrender at Night', version 3] Monkess enclose me in your darkness To the Night ['Surrender at Night', version 4] Nymph draw me into your darkness The monk listens long to the dying bird Where the possessed stand by black walls Through black forehead the dead city goes awry Those sing the decline of the sinister city Where by walls the shadows of the ancestors stand Sinisterly a brown deer bleeds in the shrub Summe r.

In sunflowers yellow Fa r away the mother sat in the shadow of autumn O r when he a soft novice Childhood What quietly walks under autumn's trees A cross towers Elis Birth Walk with the father In Spring Evening has become in the old garden When the day sank K drove The homeless one turns In spring; a delicate corpse Nocturnal beeches; in the heart Snowy night! You dark sleepers From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory: But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel: Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament, And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content, And tender churl mak'st waste in niggarding: Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now, Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held: Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days; To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise. How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use, If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,' Proving his beauty by succession thine!

This were to be new made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest Now is the time that face should form another; Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.

For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? Or who is he so fond will be the tomb, Of his self-love to stop posterity? Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime; So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time. But if thou live, remember'd not to be, Die single and thine image dies with thee.

Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy? Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And being frank she lends to those are free: Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse The bounteous largess given thee to give? Profitless usurer, why dost thou use So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?

For having traffic with thy self alone, Thou of thy self thy sweet self dost deceive: Then how when nature calls thee to be gone, What acceptable audit canst thou leave?

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Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee, Which, used, lives th' executor to be. Those hours, that with gentle work did frame The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, Will play the tyrants to the very same And that unfair which fairly doth excel; For never-resting time leads summer on To hideous winter, and confounds him there; Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone, Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where: Then were not summer's distillation left, A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was: But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet, Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface, In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd: Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place With beauty's treasure ere it be self-kill'd. That use is not forbidden usury, Which happies those that pay the willing loan; That's for thy self to breed another thee, Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; Ten times thy self were happier than thou art, If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee: Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart, Leaving thee living in posterity?

Traumton: Artists:

Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir. Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy: Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly, Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married, do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire and child and happy mother, Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing: Whose speechless song being many, seeming one, Sings this to thee: 'Thou single wilt prove none.

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Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye, That thou consum'st thy self in single life? No love toward others in that bosom sits That on himself such murd'rous shame commits. For shame! Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many, But that thou none lov'st is most evident: For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate, That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire, Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate Which to repair should be thy chief desire.

Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind, Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: Make thee another self for love of me, That beauty still may live in thine or thee. As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st, In one of thine, from that which thou departest; And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st, Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest, Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase; Without this folly, age, and cold decay: If all were minded so, the times should cease And threescore year would make the world away. Let those whom nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: Look, whom she best endow'd, she gave thee more; Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby, Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow; And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.