Castalia 360
Twilight
Dear Friends,
I’m beyond happy to share with you…
Zwielicht [Twilight]
tenth song of Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis, op. 39
A setting by Robert Schumann (1810 — 1856)
of the poem by Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff (1788 — 1857)
performed by Ishmael Wallace, tenor and pianist
Twilight
Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff
The twilight spreading out its wings,
Uncanny stirrings in the trees,
Clouds overhead like heavy dreams —
This chill I feel, what does it mean?
Among the does, if there is one
You love, don’t let her graze alone.
Hunters roam the wood with horns,
And voices wander to and fro.
If here below you have a friend,
At this hour, trust him not with her!
Though eye and lips be friendly, deep
Within his soul he’s plotting war.
What goes down with the sun, worn out,
Will rise tomorrow, fresh and strong.
But much goes missing in the dark —
Be on your guard; stay wide awake!
(translation by IW; please scroll down for the original German)
The old Sun declining, the new Sun not yet born, hunters throng the forest. What today we see all around us, Eichendorff has seen already.
This down-going, we hear also in the music — the basic pattern:
A version of the passacaglia:
The bass line here is typical of laments, in part because it shows us the movement of grief: from stability to relative stability, passing through a region — two degrees of the scale — where nothing is stable.1
Schumann has Bach in mind; in the Crucifixus from his B minor Mass we move through the same space:
We must keep hope alive — the dawn will come!
Thank you so much.
With every good wish,
Ishmael
Music as a Path:
I coach musicians online, guiding composers and performers alike to deeper connection with the Muse. For details, please see my website:
Zwielicht
Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff
Dämmrung will die Flügel spreiten,
Schaurig rühren sich die Bäume,
Wolken ziehn wie schwere Träume—
Was will dieses Graun bedeuten?
Hast ein Reh du lieb vor andern,
Laß es nicht alleine grasen,
Jäger ziehn im Wald und blasen,
Stimmen hin und wieder wandern.
Hast du einen Freund hienieden,
Trau ihm nicht zu dieser Stunde,
Freundlich wohl mit Aug’ und Munde,
Sinnt er Krieg im tück’schen Frieden.
Was heut gehet müde unter,
Hebt sich morgen neugeboren.
Manches geht in Nacht verloren—
Hüte dich, sei wach und munter!