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Christof the dreamer, the thoughtful

life song

I always hear the muffled melody, the melody of my melancholy.
me lies in the ears and goes never.

Pulls me in its spell, can not turn away from me, they
, my melancholy.
seduced my senses, I sing a song full of discord.

Sometimes it comes in the morning, but sometimes late,
my melancholy, and never goes by, this melody.

your song played just for me, my melancholy.
The voice sounds so dull and heavy, dark symphony.

And yet I'm happy, so happy that I've got my melancholy.
I'm not alone, she is always here with me - what an irony!


Birgit Koxeder

In his room at home

In room 841 in the arrow home 3a in Vienna

dreaming in the apple tree at Grandma and Grandpa Greifenburg, Carinthia

Audio File: Lullaby by Richard Strauss, sung by Anna Netrebko

lullaby

dreams, dream, my sweet life,
from heaven that brings the flowers.
flowers shimmer as the quake
of the song that sings your mother.

dreams, dream, of my worries bud,
the day that the flower sprouting;
of the bright flowers morning
because your little soul to the world opened up.

dreams, dream, flower of my love,
of the quiet, hallowed by the night,
made since the flower of his love
this world a heaven for me.

text: Richard Dehmel

source

nothing can frighten him to move any more, for all the thousand threads of will, which keep us tied to the world and as desire, fear, envy, anger pull us back and forth with constant pain, he has performed. He looks back calmly and smiling at the Gaukelbilder this world ...

Arthur Schopenhauer

Perhaps no man at the end of his life when he calmly and at the same time sincere, want to go through it again, but, rather than the much rather choose utter nothingness.

Arthur Schopenhauer