{"id":28,"date":"2013-04-04T22:30:02","date_gmt":"2013-04-05T03:30:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jillmaria.com\/wordpress\/?p=28"},"modified":"2016-08-22T14:15:50","modified_gmt":"2016-08-22T19:15:50","slug":"to-music","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jillmaria.com\/?p=28","title":{"rendered":"To Music"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/code>Its been a long day \u00a0and I don’t have the energy to create something fresh, but \u00a0wanted to be faithful to poetry month. \u00a0 I thought, \u00a0“Hmm \u00a0 \u00a0what are some of the things my friends have written about music?”\u00a0Of course for every good piece, there are a zillion that I should not have unearthed.\u00a0But let me share a couple that touched me:<\/p>\n

Walter de la Mare was an English poet. 1873 – 1956.<\/p>\n

Music\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/div>\n
When music sounds, gone is the earth I know,\u00a0<\/em>
\nAnd all her lovely things even lovelier grow;\u00a0<\/em>
\nHer flowers in vision flame, her forest trees\u00a0<\/em>
\nLift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.\u00a0<\/em>
\nWhen music sounds, out of the water rise\u00a0<\/em>
\nNaiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes,\u00a0<\/em>
\nRapt in strange dreams burns each enchanted face,\u00a0<\/em>
\nWith solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place.\u00a0<\/em>
\nWhen music sounds, all that I was I am\u00a0<\/em>
\nEre to this haunt of brooding dust I came;\u00a0<\/em>
\nAnd from Time’s woods break into distant song\u00a0<\/em>
\nThe swift-winged hours, as I hasten along.<\/em><\/div>\n
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I love the line \u00a0“When music sounds, all that I was I am.”<\/em> \u00a0It reminds me of Exodus, 3: 14 where Moses first meets God, who says \u00a0“I am who I am.” <\/em>\u00a0 Music has that sacred, transcendent quality about it. \u00a0I am ever grateful she is my muse.<\/div>\n
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Another favorite comes from the Bard himself:<\/p>\n

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Sonnet 128: How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st\u00a0by William Shakespeare<\/strong><\/div>\n
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How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st,
\n<\/em>Upon that bless\u00e8d wood whose motion sounds<\/em>
\nWith thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway’st<\/em>
\nThe wiry concord that mine ear confounds,<\/em>
\nDo I envy those jacks that nimble leap<\/em>
\nTo kiss the tender inward of thy hand,<\/em>
\nWhilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,<\/em>
\nAt the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand!<\/em>
\nTo be so tickled, they would change their state<\/em>
\nAnd situation with those dancing chips<\/em>
\nO’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,<\/em>
\nMaking dead wood more blest than living lips.<\/em>
\nSince saucy jacks so happy are in this,<\/em>
\nGive them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.<\/em><\/div>\n
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It starts right away with the very beginning of the poem: “How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st,\u00a0<\/em>Upon that bless\u00e8d wood whose motion sounds\u00a0<\/em>With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway’st” \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/em><\/em><\/em><\/em>\u00a0Did you know that the Spanish word for playing guitar is \u00a0\u00a0tocare la guitarra<\/em> “to touch” the guitar. \u00a0It is such an intimate gesture, in contrast to just playing the the guitar. \u00a0 And if you look at the guitar, or almost any instrument, \u00a0one does that. You<\/div>\n
embrace it, and it embraces you and makes sweet music in return.<\/div>\n
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Ironically \u00a0Shakespeare always seems to lead me to Schubert’s “Die Musik” \u00a0that is \u00a0“To Music.” \u00a0 which is such a beautiful piece, whether it is an instrumental or vocal performance. The texts seem to steal from each other quite readily .<\/div>\n
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<\/object>
\n\"German.png\"\u00a0German text<\/big><\/b><\/p>\n
\n
Du holde Kunst, in wieviel grauen Stunden,<\/em><\/dd>\n
Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt,<\/em><\/dd>\n
Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb entzunden,<\/em><\/dd>\n
Hast mich in eine be\u00dfre Welt entr\u00fcckt!<\/em><\/dd>\n<\/dl>\n
\n
Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf\u2019 entflossen,<\/em><\/dd>\n
Ein s\u00fc\u00dfer, heiliger Akkord von dir<\/em><\/dd>\n
Den Himmel be\u00dfrer Zeiten mir erschlossen,<\/em><\/dd>\n
Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir daf\u00fcr!<\/em><\/dd>\n<\/dl>\n

<\/object>
\n\"English.png\"\u00a0English translation<\/big><\/b>
\nby Gerard Mackworth-Young<\/i><\/p>\n
\n
O gracious Art, in how many grey hours<\/em><\/dd>\n
When life’s fierce orbit encompassed me,<\/em><\/dd>\n
Hast thou kindled my heart to warm love,<\/em><\/dd>\n
Hast charmed me into a better world!<\/em><\/dd>\n<\/dl>\n
\n
Oft has a sigh, issuing from thy harp,<\/em><\/dd>\n
A sweet, blest chord of thine,<\/em><\/dd>\n
Thrown open the heaven of better times;<\/em><\/dd>\n
O gracious Art, for that I thank thee!<\/em><\/dd>\n
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With that dear friends, I bid you a blessed night. \u00a0 Be thankful for the music, the poetry and those who hear it and make it. \u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/dd>\n<\/dl>\n

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