Σάββατο, 29 Δεκεμβρίου 2012

Λογοτεχνία στη Μουσική και η Μουσική στη Λογοτεχνία 4






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* Christos Sipsis 

FAUSTUS.
Accursed Faustus, where is mercy now?
I do repent; and yet I do despair;
(60)Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast:
What shall I do to shun the snares of death?
MEPHIST.Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul
For disobedience to my sovereign lord;
Revolt, or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh.(65
)FAUSTUS.Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord
To pardon my unjust presumption.
And with my blood again I will confirm
My former vow I made to Lucifer.
MEPHIST.Do it then quickly, with unfeigned heart,
(70)Lest greater danger do attend thy drift.
[FAUSTUS stabs his arm and writes on a paper with his blood.]
 Doctor FaustusChristopher Marlowe

Artur RUBINSTEIN - LISZT Mephisto Waltz No.1

 FAUSTUS.Torment, sweet friend,
that base and crookedage,
That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer,
With greatest torments that our hell affords.
(75)MEPHIST.His faith is great: I cannot touch his soul
,But what I may afflict his body withI will attempt, which is but little worth.
FAUSTUS.One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee,
To glut the longing of my heart's desire,
—(80)That I might have unto my paramour
That heavenly Helen which I saw of late,
Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean
These thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow,
And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer.
(85)MEPHIST.Faustus, this or what else thou shalt desire
Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye.Re-enter HELEN.


FAUSTUS.Was this the face that launched a thousandships,And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?(90)Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.[Kisses her.]

Her lips suck forth my soul; see, where it flies!
—Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
(95)I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sacked:
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest:
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
(100)And then return to Helen for a kiss.
Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appeared to hapless Semele:
(105)More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa's azured arms:
And none but thou shalt be my paramour.

Doctor FaustusChristopher Marlowe


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* Christos Sipsis 
Zbigniew Preisner - Kosmoplastra musiki
Και κυλάς την πρώτη πλάκα,
μουσικό βιολί μου εσύ,
κι από μέσα από τον τάφο,
να η Αγάπη! σαν πρωτόπλαστη ξανανθεί.

Και τη δεύτερη την πλάκα
την κυλάς, βιολί, και να!
Να η μητέρα, να η Πατρίδα!
Κι ανασταίνεται, τρισέβαστη
μέσ' στα σεβαστά.

Και κυλάς την τρίτη πλάκα
μουσικό βιολί μου εσύ,
κι από μέσα από τον τάφο
να οι Θεοί
!Κι απ' τον τάφο ξαναβγαίνουν οι δημιουργοί.

Περιβόλια, ανοίχτε την Αγάπη,
και βροντήστε κάστρα, να η Πατρίδα!
Στυλωθήτε των Θεών βωμοί!
Και τ' αθάνατα είν' αυτά και οι κοσμοπλάστες
κοσμοπλάστρα Μουσική!





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*De Profundis Ya



Σεργκέι Βασίλιεβιτς Ραχμάνινοφ, 1873-1943 (Rachmaninov, Sergei Vasilyevich)


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*Kiriaki Chrysanidou

Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel - Lied: Larghetto from Song Without Words, Op. 8, No.3

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* Christos Sipsis
Beethoven Edith Mathis & Alexander Young; Scotish Song, "Lochnagar"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyEx2nWmJI0&feature=youtu.be
Edith Mathis & Alexander Young.
"Lochnagar" (Το ένατο από τα Scotish Songs)

Lochnagar

Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,
In you let the minions of luxury rove,
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love.
Yet Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains,
Round their white summits tho' elements war,
Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Lochnagar.

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd,
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid.
On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd
As daily I strode thro' the pine-cover'd glade.
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright Polar star,
For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story,
Disclos'd by the natives of dark Lochnagar!

Years have roll'd on, Lochnagar, since I left you!
Years must elapse ere I tread you again.
Though nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you,
Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain.
England, thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roamed over mountains afar
Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic,
The steep frowning glories of dark Lochnagar.

LORD BYRON

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* Christos Sipsis

Ludwig van Beethoven - Lieder nach Johann Wolfgang Goethe - Wonne der Wehmut Op. 83 Nr. 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pEwRX53bXfI&feature=youtu.be

Wonne der Wehmut

Trocknet nicht, trocknet nicht,
Tränen der ewigen Liebe !
Ach, nur dem halbgetrockneten Auge
Wie öde, wie tot die Welt ihm
erscheint !
Trocknet nicht, trocknet nicht, Tränen unglücklicher Liebe !
  Goethe, 1775)


The Joy of sadness
Do not run dry, do not run dry,
Tears of eternal love!
Even to the half-dry eye
How desolate and dead the world
appears!
Do not run dry, do not run dry, Tears of unhappy love!
  (Translated by Emily Ezust)




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