Estote fortes

 

Estote fortes in bello
et pugnate cum antiquo serpente
et accipietis regnum aeternum,
alleluia

Be valiant in war
and fight the ancient serpent
and you shall enter the everlasting kingdom,
alleluia.

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The death of God and the beauty

 

Up: one of the music of yesterday ceremony, here by one of my favourite ensable…

 

Last night I went to a church where there was a Via Crucis sung by a chorus in which I have some friends.

It was beautiful and touching; each station of the Cross was marked by a chant a cappella: before and after only silence. I listened to several treasures of the millenary cristian tradition: from medieval songs to Allegri, Mozart, Rachmaninov, Bardos.

All that beauty surprised and moved me deeply, above all because it was all about pain and death and not only human pain and death: God died. How much beauty the man was able to build in the arts about such a tragedy!

So, I thought that it is not only the blue of the sky, the colours of the springs, the lips of my love or the joy for the life to show me God, but also the darkness, the pain. The death.

If the man, this very poor being, has the power to make beauty from the death… what’s the power of God?

 

As a flute

Pic from here

Greek, Early Classical Period, 470–460 B.C.: Eros playing the double flutes.

As a flute,

please play me as a flute

in your hands

Give me breath till I sing

so that ring each my most hidden reed

in my heart; press my strings

and my skin: it’s so tight!

 

Make me music

        make it beautiful

                              so I receive

SL, Galadriel’s Mirror, October, 30th 2016

 

Italian version

Eugenio Corti died

corti funerale

Eugenio Corti died. I did not meet  him, but once I red his “The red horse” and after that I looked for all his books. I liked a lot his words, his way of write. Yesterday there was his funeral, and some friends of mines went there: I had to work.
It is not useful now talking about him, his literary and social importance; he is one of the most important Italian novelist and perhaps even more.
He is catholic, as me.
To remember him, a lover of words, of his people, of the Alps, of the music and especially of Christ, I post the translation of a beautiful song, sang during his funeral.

God of the sky (by Bepi de Marzi)

God of the sky, Lord of the mountain tops
from the mountain you claimed our friend

But we pray you, but we pray you:
high in the Heaven, high in the Heaven,
let he can go
onto your mountains.

Holy Mary, Lady of the snow,
cover with your white and soft mantle
our friend, our brother:
high in the Heaven, high in the Heaven,
let he can go
onto your mountains.

There’s a music

IMG_1373_web

 

There’s a music and I see it now
while each tree runs around me in the country
and green grass looks at spring light and life
and I am in my car in this world

There’s a music in your love and I can
touch it like your warm skin and your face
or see it as your eyes and black hairs
and I am facing you and your soul

There’s a music, I know it, in the world
even in this my winter I hear it
so I try to put it in poor words
in this strange language as in the mine

 

27th March 2013