Video: From Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony ***

Happy New Year, everyone!

SILENCE


Words cannot tell it.
Silence is needed;
Nothing can tell

How far you succeeded
In going to hell.

Wait in silence
To be forgiven;
No words can bring it,
Though the heart is riven
And no song can sing it.

— Xanadu

Beethoven’s  Ode to Joy
from his Ninth Symphony
featuring a flashmob in Spain

VIDEO   :   5.40 mins

7 thoughts to “Video: From Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony ***”

  1. Best wishes for a happy and prosperous 2021, Lasha, in the best of health, and the Palestinian people’s recovery of their ancestral homeland!

  2. ADMIN: Lasha will squirm with embarrassment when she reads the title of your poem! But I guess the kind thought counts. So on her behalf, thank you Darrell! 🙂 She is unable to do so herself right now because she is completely cut off from the internet. She is on retreat in a small and remote religious community on a private estate where no computers are allowed, not even telephone communication. (Sr. Monica).

    “Words cannot tell it… And no song can sing it” — that is, the appreciation and grateful thanks due to our dear Lasha. As we enter into a new year I would like to share a poem, “In Praise of Lasha,” adapted from Hilaire Belloc’s “Heroic Poem in Praise of Wine” (1931)

    In Praise of Lasha

    To exalt, enthrone, establish and defend,
    To welcome home mankind’s illustrious friend:
    Lasha, gifted in all arts that be;
    Lasha, bastion of the completely free;
    Lasha beautiful; Lasha the sagely strong;
    Lasha, avenger of sly-dealing wrong,
    Awake, inspiring Muse, and sing your song!

    Sing how seekers from all corners came,
    And on their front the little dancing flame
    Which marked the God-head. Sing, O celestial team!
    You valiant soldiers marching, and the gleam
    Of cymbals through the darkness. Sing the drums!
    She comes, our Light! our inspiration comes!

    And everywhere they pass, the crowds! The crowds!
    The glorious, cheering crowds! And how they sing
    Great hymns which to the highest heavens ring.
    The crowds are here for Lasha and they praise
    Her mind, her heart. On her they long to gaze!

    And now the task of this triumphant day
    Has reached to victory. In the reddening ray
    Fulfilled, apparent, our Creator stands
    Halted on Earth. And far beneath Him, far,
    The strength of Ocean darkening and the star
    Beyond all shores. There is a silence made.
    It glorifies: and lo! gigantic shade
    Of Rome and Athens awaits her from the West.
    And all in chorus cry “Our Lasha is best!”

    But what are these that from the outer murk
    Of dense mephitic vapors creeping lurk
    To breathe foul airs from that corrupted well
    Which oozes slime along the floor of Hell?
    These are the stricken palsied brood of sin
    In whose vile veins, poor, poisonous and thin,
    Decoctions of embittered hatreds crawl —
    These, Detractors of Lasha, cursed all!
    On what gin-sodden Hags, what flaccid sires
    Bred these Slugs, from what exhaust desires?
    In what close prison’s horror were their wiles
    Watched, by what dark pow’r with evil smiles;
    Or in what caverns, blocked from grace and air
    Received they, then, the mandates of despair?

    What! Must we our race, our tragic race, that roam
    All exiled from our first and final home:
    That in one moment of temptation lost
    Our heritage, we wander, hunger-tossed
    Beyond the Gates (still speaking with our eyes
    Forever of remembered Paradise),
    Must we with every gift accepted, still,
    With every joy, receive attendant ill?
    Must some lewd evil follow all our good
    And muttering dog our brief beatitude?

    A primal doom, inexorable, wise,
    Permitted, ordered, even these to rise.
    E’en in the shadow of so bright a Lord
    Must swarm and propagate the filthy horde,
    Debased, accursed, abhorrent and abhorred,
    Accursed and curse-bestowing. Whosoe’er
    Shall suffer their contagion, everywhere
    Falls from blessedness and finds his end
    To darkest realms of dark despair condemned;

    And through the darkness into darkness press,
    Despised, abandoned and companionless.
    And when the course of either’s sleep has run
    We leap to life like heralds of the sun!
    We from the couch in glimm’ring mornings gay
    Salute as equals the exultant day,
    While they, unworthy, unrewarded, they
    The dense Detractors of Lasha, they arise
    And watch grey dawns and mourn indifferent skies.

    Forget them! Form the Dionysian ring
    And pulse the ground, and Io, Io, sing!

    Father in Heaven, to whom our strength belongs,
    Our loves, our wars, our laughter and our songs,
    Remember our inheritance, who praise
    Your glory in these last unhappy days
    When beauty sickens and a muddied robe
    Of baseness fouls the universal globe.
    Though all the gods indignant and their train
    Abandon ruined man, do thou remain!

    But since I would not, since I could not stay,
    Let me remember now in this my day
    That when the fleeting vision’s lure is past,
    All mortals face their Passion at the last.

    When from the waste of such long labor done
    I too must leave the light and heat of sun
    And like the tired worker take my way
    Down the long shadows of declining day,
    Bend Thou from somber plains my clouded sight
    And leave the mountains to advancing night;
    When comes to term all things that were mine own
    With nothingness before me, and alone;
    Then to what hope of answer shall I turn?
    Comrade-Commander whom I dared not earn,
    What said Thee then to trembling friends and few?
    “A moment, and I drink with you anew:
    But in my Father’s Kingdom.” So, my Friend,
    Let not Your cup desert me in the end,
    But when the hour of mine adventure’s near,
    Just and benignant, let my youth appear
    Bearing a Chalice, open, golden, wide,
    With benediction graven on its side.
    So touch my dying lip: so bridge that deep:
    So pledge my waking from the gift of sleep,
    Until reclined where dried be every tear,
    With you, my God, and Lasha too, most dear.

    1. I should have also mentioned that appreciation and grateful thanks are also due to John, Lucy, Monica, and all those who make Darkmoon a shining and guiding light in a darkened world, as it defends and promotes the truth in a sea of lies, and goodness (the moral and social order) and beauty against those who deliberately strive to undermine them. May God guide and protect you all throughout the New Year!

  3. I cannot compete with that Poetry, but my sentiments are the same and THANK you so much LASHA and company, for being here in SPIRIT, and WORDS which your spirit allows, if not in person.

    May you live forever in Peace and Happiness.

  4. A spontaneous gathering of musicians and listeners…
    Very uplifting…
    It will be a thing of the past, if nobody stops the covid lie…

    1. I find it symbolic of how the world will overcome the darkness that has descended upon it. One person being joined by another etc., etc. until all are awake and the voice is strong enough to send the evil packing.

      I can dream.

  5. 2020 was a horrible year. 2021 doesn’t look like it’s going to be better than 2020, it may even be worse than 2020. This Christmastide I’m feeling nostalgic for Christmastides past — as I wish everyone here at Darkmoon a Merry Christmastide and a Happy New Year to everyone!

    🎄Christmas Season is until January 6th, The Epiphany ⭐. So I’m not late giving my Season Greetings to everyone!

    I’m sure everyone will love this song, especially the old time old old old country boys like Pat and Gilbert, 😊.

    Merry Christmas and Happy New Years to everybody here at Darkmoon, to ADMIN, to all the commentators, to all the silent readers, to ‘you all’ as they say down South :

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H8GC6PTK7iY

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