Posted in Colloquial Euphemisms, Правда (NO not that one), Historical Perspective, Insight Videos, Political Euphemisms, Thinking for Oneself

The Hitler Speech They Don’t Want You to Hear

Once and again…historical revisionism is,  simply put:

A logical inference which only strengthens the nascent and growing seed that leads to finding some kind of truth in form. 

Don’t claim you know, or understand whence you have not even taken the valuable time to hear many angles and test them under the strong hand of fact and logic.

 

 

I always found it funny how we saw 10 second clips of Hitler’s speeches in German at school but were never allowed to read the translations. Literally, not once. We’ve all seen the same angry German stereotype clip a hundred times, but does anyone know what he was talking about? Is that not propaganda? He […]

via Video: The Hitler speech nobody is allowed to discuss — Philosophies of a Disenchanted Scholar

Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language

‘How hard to walk among the crowd’

IMG_0404

There a man was burned alive.’

 

Afanasy Fet

 

How hard to walk among the crowd

with existence’s pretension,

and speak to posterity, aloud,

of the tragic play of passion.

 

And peering into darkest night,

find form in a chaos of feeling,

so that by art’s anaemic light

they may see life’s fatal gleaming!

 

Алекса́ндр Бло́к

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language

If Desires Fly by Like Shadows

https://i0.wp.com/www.tanais.info/yaroshenko/yaroshenko1.jpg

If desires fly by like shadows,
If vows are empty words,
Is it worth it to live in this fog of delusion,
Is it worth it to live if the truth is dead?

Does one need eternity for useless striving,
Does one need eternity for deceptive words?
What is worthy of life lives without doubts,
A higher power knows no bonds.

Knowing one’s own higher power,
Why wail on about childish dreams?
Life is just an exploit, and the living truth
Shines like immortality in moldering graves.

Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language

Est in arundineis modulatio musica ripis

Певучесть есть в морских волнах,
Гармония в стихийных спорах,
И стройный мусикийский шорох
Струится в зыбких камышах.

Невозмутимый строй во всем,
Созвучье полное в природе,—
Лишь в нашей призрачной свободе
Разлад мы с нею сознаем.

Откуда, как разлад возник?
И отчего же в общем хоре
Душа не то поет, что море,
И ропщет мыслящий тростник?

И от Земли до крайних звезд
Все безответен и поныне
Глас вопиющего в пустыне,
Души отчаянный протест?

 

In ocean waves there’s melody
There’s harmony within the clash of elements,
And a harmonious tuneful whisper
Streams through the rippling rushes.
There’s imperturbable order everywhere,
Full consonance in nature,
And only our illusory freedom
Is out of tune with her.
Whence, how did this discord arise?
And why, amidst the universal chorus,
Do human souls not sing as does the sea,
Why does the sentient reed sigh?
And from the earth unto the highest stars
Unanswered to this very day
A voice lamenting in the wilderness,
The soul protests despairingly?

Тютчевъ

 

 

Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language

Nature is Not As You Imagine Her

 

Nature is not as you imagine her:
She’s not a mold, nor yet a soulless mask-
She is made up of soul and freedom
She is made up of love and speech . . .
…………….
Observe the leaves and flowers on a tree:
Was it some gardener glued them there?
And is a growing child in the womb
The work of alien, external forces? . . .
…………….
They do not see and do not hear
They live in this world as if in darkness,
For them, it seems, the stars don’t breathe
And ocean waves are not alive.
The sun’s rays have not reached their soul,
Spring’s never bloomed within their breast,
The forest does not speak to them
And starry nights are always mute!
And, roiling woods and rivers
With unearthly speech,
No storm’s engaged them in the night
In friendly conversation!
They’re not to blame: how can the deaf
Perceive an organ’s sound!
Alas, their souls can not be touched
Not even by a mother’s voice!

Тютчевъ

Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language, Music, Music History, Uncategorized

The Forsaken Merman: To a Familiar Genius Flying By

Ernest Farrar

 

л НЙНПРТПМЕФЕЧЫЕНХ ЪОБЛПНПНХ ЗЕОЙА

уЛБЦЙ, ЛФП ФЩ, РМЕОЙФЕМШ ВЕЪЩНСООЩК?
у ЛБЛЙИ ОЕВЕУ РТЙНЮБМУС ФЩ ЛП НОЕ?
ъБЮЕН ПРСФШ ЧМЕЮЕЫШ Л ПВЕФПЧБООПК,
дБЧОП, ДБЧОП РПЛЙОХФПК УФТБОЕ?

оЕ ФЩ МЙ ФПФ, ЛПФПТЩК ЦЙЪОШ НМБДХА
фБЛ УМБДПУФОП НЕЮФБНЙ ХУЩРМСМ
й Ч УФБТЙОХ РТП ЗПУФША ОЕЪЕНОХА –
рТП НЙМХА ОБДЕЦДХ ЕК ЫЕРФБМ?

оЕ ФЩ МЙ ФПФ, ЛЕН ЧУЕ ЧП ДОЙ РТЕЛТБУОЩ
фБЛ ЦЙМП ФБН, Ч УЮБУФМЙЧЩИ ФЕИ ЛТБСИ,
зДЕ МХЗ ДХЫЙУФ, ЗДЕ ЧПДЩ УЧЕФМП-СУОЩ,
зДЕ ЧЕУЕМ ДЕОШ ОБ ЮЙУФЩИ ОЕВЕУБИ?

оЕ ФЩ МШ ЧП ЗТХДШ У ЦЙЧЩН ЧЕУОЩ ДЩИБОШЕН
фБЙОУФЧЕООПК ХОЩМПУФША ЧМЕФБМ,
еЕ ФЕУОЙМ ФПНЙФЕМШОЩН ЦЕМБОШЕН
й ФТЕРЕФОЩН ЧЕУЕМШЕН ЧПМОПЧБМ?

рПЬЪЙЙ УЧСЭЕООЩН ЧДПИОПЧЕОШЕН
оЕ ФЩ МШ У ДХЫПК ОПУЙМУС Ч ЧЩУПФХ,
рТЕД ОЕК ЗПТЕМ ВПЦЕУФЧЕООЩН ЧЙДЕОШЕН,
тБЪПВМБЮБМ ЕК ЦЙЪОЙ ЛТБУПФХ?

ч ЮБУЩ ХФТБФ, Ч ЮБУЩ РЕЮБМЙ ФБКОПК,
оЕ ФЩ МШ ЧУЕЗДБ ВЕУЕДПК УЕТДГБ ВЩМ,
еЗП УНЙТСМ ХФЕИПА УМХЮБКОПК
й ФЙИПА ОБДЕЦДПА ГЕМЙМ?

й ОЕ ФЕВЕ МШ ЧУЕЗДБ ПОБ ЧОЙНБМБ
ч ЮЙУФЕКЫЙЕ НЙОХФЩ ВЩФЙС,
лПЗДБ УХДШВЩ УЧСФЩОА РПУФЙЗБМБ,
лПЗДБ МЙЫШ вПЗ УЧЙДЕФЕМШ ВЩМ ЕС?

лБЛХА Ц ЧЕУФШ РТЙОЕУ ФЩ, НПК РМЕОЙФЕМШ?
йМЙ ПРСФШ НЕЮФПК МЙЫШ РПНБОЙЫШ
й, РТЕЦОЙИ ДХН ОБРТБУОЩК РТПВХДЙФЕМШ,
п УЮБУФЙЙ ЫЕРОЕЫШ Й ЪБНПМЮЙЫШ?

п зЕОЙК НПК, РПВХДШ ЕЭЕ УП НОПА;
вЩЧБМЩК ДТХЗ, ПФМЕФПН ОЕ УРЕЫЙ;
пУФБОШУС, ВХДШ НОЕ ЦЙЪОЙА ЪЕНОПА,
вХДШ БОЗЕМПН-ИТБОЙФЕМЕН ДХЫЙ.

 

To a Familiar Genius Flying By

Reveal yourself, anonymous enchanter!
What heaven hastens you to me?
Why draw me to that promised land again
That I gave up so long ago?

Was it not you who in my youth
Enchanted me with such sweet dreams,
Did you not whisper, long ago,
Dear hopes of a guests ethereal?

Was it not you through whom all lived
In golden days, in happy lands
Of fragrant meadows, waters bright,
Where days were merry ?neath clear skies?

Was it not you who breathed into my vernal breast
Some melancholy mysteries
Tormenting it with keen desire
Exciting it to anxious joy?

Was it not you who bore my soul aloft
Upon the inspiration of your sacred verse,
Who flamed before me like a holy vision,
Initiating me into life’s beauty?

In hours lost, hours of secret grief,
Did you not always murmur to my heart,
With happy comfort soothe it
And nurture it with quiet hope?

Did not my soul forever heed you
In all the purest moments of my life
When’ere it glimpsed fate’s sacred essence
With only God to witness it?

What news bring you, O, my enchantress?
Or will you once more call in dreams
Awaken futile thoughts of old,
Whisper of joy and then fall silent?

O spirit, bide with me awhile;
O, faithful friend, haste not away;
Stay, please become my earthly life,
O, Guardian angel of my soul.

Васи́лий  Жуко́вский

 

Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language, Music, Music History

Why, why forever

 

Why, why forever to the deadly line
I’m pushed unpityingly by blows of the Fortune?
Whether all this, including life of mine,
Are only moments of the endless torture?
I want to live, tho’ heart hasn’t joy inside,
And happiness is just a tale to know,
But I am called in distance by some light,
And it is seemed, that I can have its glow.
Maybe, ‘tis just a spirit – this far blaze!
Maybe, my hopes are lost any ground!
But there – afar, in the unearthly space,
Its rays are ever beautiful and proud!

Алекса́ндр Бло́к

 

Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language, Music, Music History

Russia cannot be understood with the mind alone…

Умом Россию не понять,

Аршином общим не измерить:

У ней осбенная стать —

В Россию можно только верить

 

 

Russia cannot be understood with the mind alone

No ordinary yardstick can span her greatness

She stands alone, unique

In Russia, one can only believe.

 

A few words on Catoire (Георгий Львович Катуар):

A stilted “treatise” on opinion:

Catoire’s music shows us an original musical spirit affected by two important creative characteristics: a control of pianistic technique where everything is possible. developed from Liszt and Alkan, and an individual liberty of curiosity, the expression of an autodidact not afraid to explore the recesses of his imagination.

– He was severely handicapped by personal shyness and bouts of depression. Lack of support from his–business-oriented–relatives, friends, and colleagues for his choice of career in composition did not help matters.

Considered conservative by the new soviet regime, his works don’t offer any socio-political utility. His publications disappear from circulation with the collapse of the publishing houses due to the Russian revolution.

– From ‘GEORGY L’VOVICH CATOIRE: HIS LIFE AND MUSIC FOR PIANO, WITH SPECIAL EMPHASIS ON POEM, SECOND SONATA FOR VIOLIN AND PIANO, OP. 20’, a doctoral dissertation by Natalia Bolshakova: 

These pieces are rarely studied or performed in the West.  A few reasons for such neglect are unavailability of his music scores and the more conservative characteristics of his style, i.e. adherence to the tonal system, and the more gentle sentimental nature of his solo piano works. Thus, his compositions fell out of fashion before they gained wider recognition. Unavailability of his music scores contributed to his obscurity for the Western audiences.

Catoire’s style characteristics firmly reflect style practices of the German late Romantics. His use of harmonic and tonal color and occasional use of Russian folk-song reflect the Russian style characteristics of Rimsky-Korsakov, Arensky, Scriabin, and the Russian nationalist composers. Many of his early works – the waltzes, preludes, and other character pieces – have a naïve sentimentality of parlor- music style.

 

Catoire’s music is notable for its delicacy and harmonic refinement but, when faced with Bach’s mighty Passacaglia, he too adopts the epic style. In Eugen d’Albert’s better known transcription the music grows from a contained and dignified opening, but Catoire unleashes the mighty roar of the romantic instrument from the start (fortissimo pesante) and he is concerned throughout with the picturesque characterization of each individual variation through changes of texture and register. His determination, at the same time, that not one note of Bach’s should be lost in the process puts merciless demands on the performer.

 

from notes by Hamish Milne © 2005

A petit bio:

Georgy Catoire (1861-1926) was an important figure in Russian musical life at the turn of the 20th century and is generally considered the father of Russian modernism. He was born in Moscow to a French noble family which had emigrated to Russia in the early 19th century. Although fascinated by music, he studied mathematics and science at the University of Moscow, graduating in 1884. After graduation, however, he decided to devote himself to music. His early compositions showed the influence of Tchaikovsky who described Catoire as talented but in need of serious training. Eventually Catoire was to study composition with Rimsky-Korsakov, Lyadov, Arensky and Taneyev. In 1916, he was appointed Professor of Composition at the Moscow Conservatory, a position he held for the rest of his life. Catoire wrote several treatises on music theory, which became the foundation for the teaching of music theory in Russia.

If you should find yourself further interested in this fascinating man…please read:

http://digital.library.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metadc9127/m2/1/high_res_d/dissertation.pdf

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language, Music, Music History

Silentium

How can a heart expression find?
How should another know your mind?
Will he discern what quickens you?
A thought once uttered is untrue.

 

Ѳеодоръ Тютчевъ

 

 

Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal

the way you dream, the things you feel.

Deep in your spirit let them rise

akin to stars in crystal skies

that set before the night is blurred:

delight in them and speak no word.

 

Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:

drink at the source and speak no word.

Live in your inner self alone

within your soul a world has grown,

the magic of veiled thoughts that might

be blinded by the outer light,

drowned in the noise of day,

unheard…

take in their song and speak no word.

 

Translation by : Vladimir Sirin