Sunday Music

I am sorry. This Sunday Music comes a bit late for purely selfish reasons.
It is cold outside, all of a sudden, nearly over night, autumn arrived. The light changed ; the country looks different with all the fields harrowed  (“geeggt”) ; leaves are tumbling all over ; even little creeks are generating fog. Rain, wetness – cattle look over the fence asking philosophical questions.
Now and then wet boughs strike the bus, swerving to the right while avoiding being hit by oncoming tractorgiants results in a lot of earth pounding against the wheel houses reverberating through the whole bus, fat wet sticky earth.
So, yes, I feel a bit melancholic. The news that a friend died in her sleep sometimes between last Thursday and Frayday morning does not help to better this. I do not want to talk about it.
This Sunday Music is dedicated to M.B.
A “Gassenhauer”, what my dictionary translates as “popular melody”, but that leaves out a lot, especially the “Gasse”, the alleyway, and what is connected with it, all the abundand life – especially like in a medieval city as Nuremberg that basically consisted of “Gassen”, alleys, populated by all those normal people (“ganz normaale Leut'”) who she loved …  and who drove her to despair sometimes, as did what we call the society, or “the conditions”.
She died in her sleep, all of a sudden. Last entry on her blog says that she’d set up a newsletter for it ; other things, as told by friends, indicate that she was happily looking forward to the time to come ; she would have turned sixty next January.
A Gassenhauer from Nuremberg, originally written down by Hans NEUSIDLER (Ger., Eng.), a 16th century lutenist who lived there since 1530 – there is / are lute versions on YouTube, but I found none that is good enough, so it is the flute-version, and the video brings pictures of the fine city, too.
Btw, Mr Orff stole it, as he did with a lot of stuff.
Alit doesn’t write no more.
Du kannst doch nicht einfach so abhauen Mensch !

*

*

10 thoughts on “Sunday Music

  1. Selfish, not at all. I’m so sorry about your friend. I miss friends, one never forgets nor ceases to miss them. Grief turns to a remembrance of love, but it takes its time.

  2. I, too, am sorry about your friend. But I think Zoe is right…in time, the sadness of the death becomes a gentler memory.

    I know Herr Orff was somewhat cavalier in his music, but he did give us Carmina Burana.:-)

Comments are closed.