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fr.
Plaited
Like the Generations of Men
Come,
follow me into the realm of music. Here is the gate
Which
separates the earthly from the eternal.
It
is not like stepping into a strange country
As
we once did. We soon learn to know everything there
And
nothing surprises us more. Here
Our
wonderment will have no end, and yet
From
the very beginning we feel at home.
At
first you hear nothing, because everything sounds.
But
now you begin to distinguish between them. Listen,
Each
star has its rhythm and each world its beat.
The
heart of each separate living thing
Beats
differently, acording to its needs,
And
all the beats are in harmony.
Your
inner ear grows sharper. Do you hear
Your
deep notes and the high notes?
They
are immeasurable in space and infinite as to number.
Like
ribbons, undreamt-of scales lead from one world to another,
Steadfast
and eternally moved.
Hugh
MacDiarmid
This
is just to support my other post about music.
See?
There are a few who have put thought
into
this. "Come, follow me." "From the very beginning we
feel at home." Yes, I
do. Music is sometimes the only thing that keeps me in this world,
and I know I am not alone in this. Sometimes music is the only thing
that reaches into the dark hole where I am. Something,
a mystery – a pulse, a heartbeat, rhythm – something - calls me
home, recalls me to myself, drags me up from the depths from which I
cannot pull myself. There is power in that. I don’t know what it
is. Is it that these vibrations, these rhythms, they “lead from one
world to another”? Is it that they give us a glimpse of a world
where we can be truly ourselves, truly at home, fully accepted, wholly
known, and yet complete, full, satisfied? I wonder. But there is no doubt about this,
music runs through all of us. Animate or inanimate. No one, nothing is exempt.
So we cannot easily dismiss it. Whatever it is.
