70 lines
2.5 KiB
Markdown
70 lines
2.5 KiB
Markdown
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%title Uh.. wow o.o
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%date 2007-11-30 23:36:50
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:diary:livejournal:fossils:
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So, Leonard Bernstein's 3rd symphony, "Kaddish," is probably the most amazing thing I've ever heard. Ever. So long as one hears it with Bernstein's own narration, that is. I don't think I'd like it as much with the Holocaust narration: it stands as a 'prayer for the dead' for the holocaust victims, but cheapens the music and changes its meaning.
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<details text="The words from the second movement."><summary>The words from the second movement.</summary><blockquote>
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NARRATOR
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With Amen on my lips, I approach
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Your presence, Father. Not with fear,
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But with a certain respectful fury.
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Do You not recognize my voice?
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I am that part of Man You made
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To suggest his immortality.
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You surely remember, Father?—the part
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That refuses death, that insists on You,
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Divines Your voice, guesses Your grace.
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And always You have heard my voice,
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And always You have answered me
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With a rainbow, a raven, a plague, something.
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But now I see nothing. This time You show me
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Nothing at all.
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Are You listening, Father? You know who I am:
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Your image; that stubborn reflection of You
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That Man has shattered, extinguished, banished.
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And now he runs free—free to play
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With his new-found fire, avid for death,
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Voluptuous, complete and final death.
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Lord God of Hosts, I call You to account!
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You let this happen, Lord of Hosts!
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You with Your manna, Your pillar of fire!
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You ask for faith, where is Your own?
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Why have You taken away Your rainbow,
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That pretty bow You tied round Your finger
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To remind You never to forget Your promise?
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“For lo, I do set my bow in the cloud ...
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And I will look upon it, that I
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May remember my everlasting covenant ...”
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Your covenant! Your bargain with Man!
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Tin God! Your bargain is tin!
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It crumples in my hand!
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And where is faith now—Yours or mine?
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Forgive me, Father. I was mad with fever.
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Have I hurt You? Forgive me,
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I forgot You too are vulnerable.
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But Yours was the first mistake, creating
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Man in Your own image, tender,
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Fallible. Dear God, how You must suffer,
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So far away, ruefully eyeing
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Your two-footed handiwork—frail, foolish,
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Mortal.
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My sorrowful Father,
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If I could comfort You, hold You against me,
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Rock You and rock You into sleep.
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SOPRANO SOLO AND BOYS’ CHOIR
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Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’me raba, amen …
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NARRATOR
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Rest, my Father. Sleep, dream.
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Let me invent Your dream, dream it
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With You, as gently as I can.
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And perhaps in dreaming, I can help You
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Recreate Your image, and love him again.
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</blockquote>
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</details>
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