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The Vox Populi presents: Belsazar, op. 59—Heinrich Heine's poetic recounting of the biblical story of Belshazzar's Feast, as set to music by Robert Schumann. Translation below. Joshua Fein, bartione Wataru Yoshida, piano www.facebook.com/thevoxpopuli © 2010 The Vox Populi. All Rights Reserved. Midnight was fast approaching, and Babylon lay in a wordless calm. Only above, in the palace of the king, roared the king's company. For there above, in the royal hall, Belsazar held his royal meal. The knights sat in gleaming rows and emptied their bowls of glittering wine. The bowls clinked, the knights cheered and clamored in the honor of their foolhardy king. A glow lit the king's cheeks, and wine awoke within him a brazen courage, and this courage drove him and he cursed the divine with sinful words and he strutted and preened and swore wildly. The knightly company roared with approval. With a proud glance the king called his servant, who hurried to and fro and returned carrying upon his head utensils of gold which were stolen from the Temple of Jehovah. And with the hand of a sinner, the king grabbed a holy goblet, filled to the rim, and he emptied it to the last drop and called out with a foaming mouth: Jehova, I say to you, from these eternal heights—I am the king of Babylon! Yet just as these terrible words sounded, the king felt a strange trembling grow in his breast. The braying laughter turned utterly silent, and the room was still as a corpse. And see—and see—upon a white wall came forth something like a human hand, and it wrote—and wrote—upon the white wall letters of fire, and it wrote and it vanished. The king sat there aghast, knees trembling, skin a ghastly pallor. The knightly cohort sat, cold and grey, and sat entirely still, and made no sound. The magicians came, but none could draw meaning from the flaming script upon wall. Belsazar, that very night, was, by his own knights, slain. Translation © 2010, Joshua Fein.