Lost in the fire of last year's Pierrot centennial was translation. After all, it was Otto Erich Hartleben's German--translated from the original French of Albert Giraud--that Arnold Schoenberg had set.
And with Stanley Appelbaum's Anglicised Hartleben turning 20 next year (not to mention having its own Twitter account @PierrotTweets), Classicalite figured a new English language translation was passed due.
To wit, for the next 21 weekdays, we'll be offering a new take on each of Giraud/Hartleben/Appelbaum's 3x7 poems...alongside some of our favorite performances.
CHOPIN WALTZ
Like a drop of blood pale
Painted on the lips of a sick woman,
So too lurks within this music
A charming, greedy destruction.
Wild chords of bliss breaking
The frozen dream of despair--
Like a drop of blood pale
Painted on the lips of a sick woman.
Hot and triumphant, soft and yearning,
Melancholia's sad waltz,
I cannot let you out of my head!
You cling to my every thought
Like a drop of blood, pale.
Up next: "Madonna"
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