Romantic Guitar: Concierto De Aranjuez
Joaquín Rodrigo
The Poetry Of Life
by Friedrich von Schiller
(1759-1805)
The original version in German
(Die Poesie des lebens)
"Who would himself with shadows entertain,
Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain,
Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true?--
Though with my dream my heaven should be resigned--
Though the free-pinioned soul that once could dwell
In the large empire of the possible,
This workday life with iron chains may bind,
Yet thus the mastery o'er ourselves we find,
And solemn duty to our acts decreed,
Meets us thus tutored in the hour of need,
With a more sober and submissive mind!
How front necessity--yet bid thy youth
Shun the mild rule of life's calm sovereign, truth."
So speakest thou, friend, how stronger far than I;
As from experience--that sure port serene--
Thou lookest;--and straight, a coldness wraps the sky,
The summer glory withers from the scene,
Scared by the solemn spell; behold them fly,
The godlike images that seemed so fair!
Silent the playful Muse--the rosy hours
Halt in their dance; and the May-breathing flowers
Fall from the sister-graces' waving hair.
Sweet-mouthed Apollo breaks his golden lyre,
Hermes, the wand with many a marvel rife;--
The veil, rose-woven, by the young desire
With dreams, drops from the hueless cheeks of life.
The world seems what it is--a grave! and love
Casts down the bondage wound his eyes above,
And sees!--He sees but images of clay
Where he dreamed gods; and sighs--and glides away.
The youngness of the beautiful grows old,
And on thy lips the bride's sweet kiss seems cold;
And in the crowd of joys--upon thy throne
Thou sittest in state, and hardenest into stone.
br /> (Die Worte des Glaubens)
The Words Of Belief
Friedrich von Schiller
The original version in German<
Three words will I name thee--around and about,
From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee;
But they had not their birth in the being without,
And the heart, not the lip, must their oracle be!
And all worth in the man shall forever be o'er
When in those three words he believes no more.
Man is made free!--Man by birthright is free,
Though the tyrant may deem him but born for his tool.
Whatever the shout of the rabble may be--
Whatever the ranting misuse of the fool--
Still fear not the slave, when he breaks from his chain,
For the man made a freeman grows safe in his gain.
And virtue is more than a shade or a sound,
And man may her voice, in this being, obey;
And though ever he slip on the stony ground,
Yet ever again to the godlike way,
To the science of good though the wise may be blind,
Yet the practice is plain to the childlike mind.
And a God there is!--over space, over time,
While the human will rocks, like a reed, to and fro,
Lives the will of the holy--a purpose sublime,
A thought woven over creation below;
Changing and shifting the all we inherit,
But changeless through all one immutable spirit
Hold fast the three words of belief--though about
From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee;
Yet they take not their birth from the being without--
But a voice from within must their oracle be;
And never all worth in the man can be o'er,
Till in those three words he believes no more.
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass,
of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find strength
in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy which having
been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring
out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death,
in years that bring the philosophic mind.
William Wordsworth
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