How Often With Deep Thought I Wander... [Cemetery] (mein lautes Flüstern) скачать в хорошем качестве

How Often With Deep Thought I Wander... [Cemetery] (mein lautes Flüstern)

How often with deep thought I wander, Around the graves, so all alone, And on their mounds, I stand and ponder, With heavy heart, so grim, unknown. How painful it is, when at times, The gravedigger, with roughened hand, Lowers a coffin to the earth, His face a mask of sorrow's brand, Defiling death’s most sacred land. Or when, within the meadow’s fold, A throne of thought and passion cold, I find a skull, so dry, so bare, The throne of mind and inspiration, Forsaken now, without a prayer. And struck, and frozen, in my soul, I think, in grief, I’ve lost control, Of those whose ashes lie in dew: Of those whose ashes lie alone; Who cast you into endless sleep, Unseen guests from realms unknown, And severed bones from flesh did keep, A broken link, forever lone? What is this silence, vast and deep, That speaks without a sound or cry? Is it the mark of death’s own sleep, Or life’s own seal, that does not die? In which strange land, unseen, unknown, Have you laid down these bones alone? While spirit roams, both light and free, Through lands where we can never see? What does he do in worlds untold, Beyond this earth, both cold and wide? Does he recall the earthly heart, Or forget all, in death’s dark fold? Perhaps, surrounded by the light, A dweller in divine domains, He looks upon our world so bright, A speck in time, a fleeting strain; Or, casting off his earthly skin, He finds no need for flesh again, In realms where flesh will never win, And lives anew beyond the flame! Perhaps all that we are and know, Our hearts, our minds, our fleeting years, We give to earth, a final bow, To bury all our hopes and fears... No! Away with doubts that blind! I trust the truth, both pure and bright — The holy words of revelation, Of life beyond our mortal sight. And sweet it is, in hours of grief, To think of life beyond this shore, A life eternal, free from time, The undying soul forevermore..... ------------------------------------------------------------------- This poem is not an elegy about the end, but a manifesto about the beginning. Through contemplation of corruption, my hero comes to the conclusion that the true measure of a person is determined not by the fact of death, but by the ability to believe in meaning beyond it. There is a quiet protest against the nihilism of the era and the affirmation of the humanistic ideal: even before the abyss of the unknown, the spirit retains the right to hope. I wrote some unusual music for the poem, pumping up every line, every word. Dark ambient with large chords and chorus (my favorite genre). Dieses Gedicht ist keine Elegie über das Ende, sondern ein Manifest über den Anfang. Durch die Betrachtung der Vergänglichkeit kommt mein Held zu dem Schluss, dass das wahre Maß des Menschen nicht durch die Tatsache des Todes bestimmt wird, sondern durch die Fähigkeit, an die Bedeutung darüber hinaus zu glauben. Darin liegt ein stiller Protest gegen den Nihilismus der Epoche und die Behauptung eines humanistischen Ideals: Selbst vor dem Abgrund des Unerforschten behält der Geist das Recht auf Hoffnung. Für das Gedicht habe ich etwas ungewöhnliche Musik geschrieben und jede Zeile, jedes Wort gepumpt. Ein dunkler Ambient mit großen Akkorden und einem Chor (mein Lieblingsgenre). Ce poème n'est pas une élégie sur la fin, mais un manifeste sur le début. À travers la contemplation de la corruption, mon héros conclut que la véritable mesure de l'homme n'est pas déterminée par le fait de la mort, mais par la capacité de croire en un sens au-delà. En cela, il y a une protestation silencieuse contre le nihilisme de l'époque et l'affirmation d'un idéal humaniste: même devant l'abîme de l'inconnu, l'esprit garde le droit à l'espoir. Pour le poème, j'ai écrit une musique quelque peu inhabituelle, pompant chaque ligne, chaque mot. Ambient sombre avec de grands accords et Chorus (mon genre préféré). Эта поэма не элегия о конце, а манифест о начале. Через созерцание тлена мой герой приходит к выводу, что истинная мера человека определяется не фактом смерти, а способностью верить в смысл за её пределами. В этом есть тихий протест против нигилизма эпохи и утверждение гуманистического идеала: даже перед бездной неизведанного дух сохраняет право на надежду. Для поэмы я написал несколько необычную музыку, нагнетая каждую строчку, каждое слово. Тёмный амбиент с крупными аккордами и хором (мой любимый стиль).