And thus ends a day with Schumann

Es war, als hätt' der Himmel
Die Erde still geküsst
Dass sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müsst

Die Luft ging durch die Felder
Die Ähren wogten sacht
Es rauschten leis die Wälder
So sternklar war die Nacht

Und meine Seele spannte
Weit ihre Flügel aus
Flog durch die stillen Lande
Als flöge sie nach Haus



It was as though the sky
had silently kissed the earth,
so that it now had to dream of sky
in shimmers of flowers.

The air went through the fields,
the corn-ears leaned heavy down
the woods swished softly—
so clear with stars was the night

And my soul stretched
its wings out wide,
flew through the silent lands
as though it were flying home.

[To esteemed visitors who might come to think 'this is/seems to be suboptimal a translation of Eichendorff's poem': You may even say: It's a lousy one! - However, such an admirer of Eichendorff I am not that I'd  ask McSeanagall to make it better. In other words: I don't like the poet, but this very piece of music.]

Poet(s) of Love

Schumann 'In foreign lands'

Fairy Tales ...

for viola (Yuri Bashmet) and piano (Mikhail Mutian).

On Robert Schumann's 200th

Today 200 years ago a child was born: Robert Schumann.

What could be more natural then than beginning Omnium's little homage à Schumann with his Kinderszenen / Scenes from Childhood?
Thus, take your time, cl... ah, no!

First of all let me wave farewell to all busy contemporaries by whom as it's noise-related, music is not appreciated, and / or to whom 17:37 minutes are a big heap of time 'within which I could easily visit appr. 35 blogs and leave 40 comments'.

Oh. You are still there? Fine.
Thus, close your eyes, remember (some of) those magic moments in your childhood of which I hope you had a plenty, or better: become again the child that once you were. And if when opening your eyes after 17:10 minutes you feel a salty drop in their corners like the ones you are detecting in the great Horowitz' eyes: there's no reason to regret ...    

Interesting, isn't it?

Money in German means Geld.

(To) geld in English means to castrate.

A gelded horse in German is a Wallach.

A Wallach in English is a gelding.



Therefore: money is a gelding, hm?

Last question for tonight: How do geldings reproduce?

No clue?
Ask your trusted banker.
And to verify your banker's answer, ask your repesentative.

I don't ask for empathy

... either you feel it, or you don't.

What a voice

Am I sad, tonight? Do I feel sentimental?
No.
How could one who'd now and then be considered (ice-)cold, heartless, selfish, feel ... Fado-esque?

Ah, don't wonder, don't ponder.
Just open your ears, listen ... and agree: What a voice.

I don't know the reason why ...

... but I'll (probably) continue blogging.

Hm ... a guitar's music does not mean more to me, than any other woman I have known.

Still, some of the following lyrics (latest when replacing songs by posts) will let sense those of you who know me why I thought this is not an ideal but quite a fitting post after three years blogging.

Sweet Nothings (?)

Why would one not be surprised that Luc Bondy's interpretation of  Arthur Schnitzler's Liebelei in Austria would get this (i.e. "Not more than a sweet Nothing") and that roasting(s).

As a man who is not immune against arrogance, purism, smugness. vanity etc., I am not.
After all, above mentioned traits are part of Omnium, hm? :)*

By the way, Judith Schmitzberger (author of above's this and Sophia Felbermair (author of above's that, are (now) part of Omnium, too. Congratulations, Myladies.

Well, arrogance, purism, smugness. vanity and utter stupidity aside:

I'd (have) like(d) to watch this, either in Northampton, Kingston, Coventry, Vienna, Recklinghausen, Madrid or ... in the Young Vic.

It seems to be a fine, an interesting approach.



* Sorry, Don QuiScottie.

Right Mum, Son

Just so, inspired by Andrew.

A tragedy, a shame

... that I'd distract your attention from today's events.
Who cares about what was up to date many many yesterdays ago, hm?
The more as tomorrow today's another yesterday, hm?
Anyway, as said. Sorry, and by all means: Don't let disturb your peace of mind.
Apart from that we can't solve each tiny problem on this beautiful planet: we just can't afford pondering too much, can we?
Pondering too much makes so bloody depressive, hm?
And life is much too beautiful, too precious to waste it on getting depressive, hm?
The more as us getting depressive, will not change anything, hm?
It's hard enough daily to watch all these (breaking) news while enjoying our most delicious dinner, hm?
Ah! No. Skip watching the vid that I am too lazy to delete.
Enjoy life. It's so fucking short.

The f... err ... the peace of the night.

BP would like to clarify that ...

... contrary to some media reports ...

Thank you so much for clarifying, Big Prother.