|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 11, 2016 23:28:16 GMT -5
John Rutter and Catrin Finch: Meditation (music clip)
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 15, 2016 0:54:38 GMT -5
Gabriel FAURE': Pavane, Op. 50 - Paintings By "CLAUDE MONET"
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 18, 2016 23:04:34 GMT -5
Vaughan Williams ~ The Lark Ascending
zt:
The Lark Ascending is a poem of 122 lines by the English poet George Meredith about the song of the skylark. It has been called matchless of its kind, "a sustained lyric which never for a moment falls short of the effect aimed at, soars up and up with the song it imitates, and unites inspired spontaneity with a demonstration of effortless technical ingenuity... one has only to read the poem a few times to become aware of its perfection."
The poem inspired the English composer Ralph Vaughan Williams to write a musical work of the same name, which is now more widely known than the poem. It was originally composed in 1914 for violin and piano. This had its first public performance in 1920: in the same year the composer re-scored it for solo violin and orchestra, which premiered in 1921, and is the more frequently performed version. It is one of the most popular pieces in the Classical repertoire among British listeners.
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 18, 2016 23:04:57 GMT -5
The Lark Ascending George Meredith (1828–1909) HE rises and begins to round, He drops the silver chain of sound Of many links without a break, In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake, All intervolv’d and spreading wide, 5 Like water-dimples down a tide Where ripple ripple overcurls And eddy into eddy whirls; A press of hurried notes that run So fleet they scarce are more than one, 10 Yet changingly the trills repeat And linger ringing while they fleet, Sweet to the quick o’ the ear, and dear To her beyond the handmaid ear, Who sits beside our inner springs, 15 Too often dry for this he brings, Which seems the very jet of earth At sight of sun, her musci’s mirth, As up he wings the spiral stair, A song of light, and pierces air 20 With fountain ardor, fountain play, To reach the shining tops of day, And drink in everything discern’d An ecstasy to music turn’d, Impell’d by what his happy bill 25 Disperses; drinking, showering still, Unthinking save that he may give His voice the outlet, there to live Renew’d in endless notes of glee, So thirsty of his voice is he, 30 For all to hear and all to know That he is joy, awake, aglow, The tumult of the heart to hear Through pureness filter’d crystal-clear, And know the pleasure sprinkled bright 35 By simple singing of delight, Shrill, irreflective, unrestrain’d, Rapt, ringing, on the jet sustain’d Without a break, without a fall, Sweet-silvery, sheer lyrical, 40 Perennial, quavering up the chord Like myriad dews of sunny sward That trembling into fulness shine, And sparkle dropping argentine; Such wooing as the ear receives 45 From zephyr caught in choric leaves Of aspens when their chattering net Is flush’d to white with shivers wet; And such the water-spirit’s chime On mountain heights in morning’s prime, 50 Too freshly sweet to seem excess, Too animate to need a stress; But wider over many heads The starry voice ascending spreads, Awakening, as it waxes thin, 55 The best in us to him akin; And every face to watch him rais’d, Puts on the light of children prais’d, So rich our human pleasure ripes When sweetness on sincereness pipes, 60 Though nought be promis’d from the seas, But only a soft-ruffling breeze Sweep glittering on a still content, Serenity in ravishment. For singing till his heaven fills, 65 ’T is love of earth that he instils, And ever winging up and up, Our valley is his golden cup, And he the wine which overflows To lift us with him as he goes: 70 The woods and brooks, the sheep and kine He is, the hills, the human line, The meadows green, the fallows brown, The dreams of labor in the town; He sings the sap, the quicken’d veins; 75 The wedding song of sun and rains He is, the dance of children, thanks Of sowers, shout of primrose-banks, And eye of violets while they breathe; All these the circling song will wreathe, 80 And you shall hear the herb and tree, The better heart of men shall see, Shall feel celestially, as long As you crave nothing save the song. Was never voice of ours could say 85 Our inmost in the sweetest way, Like yonder voice aloft, and link All hearers in the song they drink: Our wisdom speaks from failing blood, Our passion is too full in flood, 90 We want the key of his wild note Of truthful in a tuneful throat, The song seraphically free Of taint of personality, So pure that it salutes the suns 95 The voice of one for millions, In whom the millions rejoice For giving their one spirit voice. Yet men have we, whom we revere, Now names, and men still housing here, 100 Whose lives, by many a battle-dint Defaced, and grinding wheels on flint, Yield substance, though they sing not, sweet For song our highest heaven to greet: Whom heavenly singing gives us new, 105 Enspheres them brilliant in our blue, From firmest base to farthest leap, Because their love of Earth is deep, And they are warriors in accord With life to serve and pass reward, 110 So touching purest and so heard In the brain’s reflex of yon bird; Wherefore their soul in me, or mine, Through self-forgetfulness divine, In them, that song aloft maintains, 115 To fill the sky and thrill the plains With showerings drawn from human stores, As he to silence nearer soars, Extends the world at wings and dome, More spacious making more our home, 120 Till lost on his aërial rings In light, and then the fancy sings.
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 18, 2016 23:37:51 GMT -5
Vladimir Horowitz plays Chopin's "Raindrop" Prelude in D flat Major, Op.28 No.15
zt:
Some, though not all, of Opus 28 was written during Chopin and George Sand's stay at a monastery in Valldemossa, Majorca in 1838. In her Histoire de ma vie, Sand related how one evening she and her son Maurice, returning from Palma in a terrible rainstorm, found a distraught Chopin who exclaimed, "Ah! I knew well that you were dead." While playing his piano he had a dream:
He saw himself drowned in a lake. Heavy drops of icy water fell in a regular rhythm on his breast, and when I made him listen to the sound of the drops of water indeed falling in rhythm on the roof, he denied having heard it. He was even angry that I should interpret this in terms of imitative sounds. He protested with all his might – and he was right to – against the childishness of such aural imitations. His genius was filled with the mysterious sounds of nature, but transformed into sublime equivalents in musical thought, and not through slavish imitation of the actual external sounds.
Sand did not say which prelude Chopin played for her on that occasion, but most music critics assume it to be no. 15, because of the repeating A flat, with its suggestion of the "gentle patter" of rain. Peter Dayan, however points out that Sand accepted Chopin's protests that the prelude was not an imitation of the sound of raindrops, but a translation of natures harmonies within Chopin's "génie". Frederick Niecks says that the prelude "rises before one's mind the cloistered court of the monastery of Valldemossa, and a procession of monks chanting lugubrious prayers, and carrying in the dark hours of night their departed brother to his last resting-place.
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 20, 2016 20:51:57 GMT -5
Rachmaninoff plays Piano Concerto 2
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 25, 2016 23:21:59 GMT -5
Antonin Dvorak - Rusalka - Song To The Moon
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 25, 2016 23:26:16 GMT -5
以现代标准,这首曲子的歌词寻常无奇。而旋律却是美妙之至。 对音乐,无词或有词,旋律终归第一。尤其是听不懂歌词的曲子。 lyricstranslate.com/en/mesicku-na-nebi-hlubokem-song-moon.htmlSong To The Moon (English Translation) 'O moon high up in the deep, deep sky, Your light sees far away regions, You travel round wide, Wide world peering into human dwellings 'O, moon, stand still for a moment, Tell me, ah, tell me where is my lover! Tell him. please, silvery moon in the sky, That I am hugging him firmly, That he should for at least a while Remember his dreams! Light up his far away place, Tell him, ah, tell him who is here waiting! If he is dreaming about me, May this remembrance waken him! O, moon, don't disappear, disappear!
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Apr 30, 2016 1:19:23 GMT -5
Offenbach - Barcarolle , from 'The Tales of Hoffmann'
《霍夫曼的故事》---- 船歌
“船歌”出现在剧中朱丽叶塔那场戏中,旋律极为优美,令人牵魂摄魄,绕梁三日;这首歌的素材取自威尼斯贡多拉船歌曲调。-- zt
|
|
|
Post by 花雨 on May 15, 2016 1:51:20 GMT -5
Mozart, Eine kleine Nachtmusik KV 525 Karl Bohm, Wiener Philharmoniker
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on May 17, 2016 0:16:58 GMT -5
Last scene of Les uns et les autres (1980) - le boléro de Ravel (aka Bolero) 《战火浮生录》片尾
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Jun 16, 2016 0:50:30 GMT -5
ROSSINI: William Tell Overture (full version)
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Jul 2, 2016 13:48:12 GMT -5
George Winston Thanksgiving (Piano Solo) 1982
|
|
|
Post by 溪山 on Jul 24, 2016 18:00:43 GMT -5
Meditation de Thais, Sarah Chang
|
|