the NAKBA ... الـنـكـبــَـة حـق يـآبــى الـنـسـيــَـان

Friday, 17 February 2012

Rilke ريــلــكــه ♪ Yuval Ron & Mark Waldman يــوفـال رون و والــدمـان مــارك



Album :
Rilke ريــلــكــه
Searching For The Inner Soul الـبـحـث عـن بـاطــن الــروح

Artists :
Yuval Ron & Mark Waldman يــوفـال رون و والــدمـان مــارك

Index :
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainer_Maria_Rilke
http://twitter.com/YuvalRon
http://yuvalronmusic.com/
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=558721049
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1244199762
http://www.markrobertwaldman.com/curriculum-vitae.html

Note :
Rilke's spiritual poems - conversations with God - read by Mark Robert Waldman with mystical music from the Middle East composed and performed by Yuval Ron on the Oud ( Mid. East Lute). Profound, romantic and moving meditation on the nature of God and Life. Poems were translated and read by Mark Robert Waldman. In addition, this recording includes two original writings by Waldman are and 8 solo Oud meditations (Taqasim) by Yuval Ron

Language : Instrumental - English

Country : USA - Israel "Palestine48"

Melodies :
[.01.] Introduction • [.02.] The ancient tower • [.03.] The wildest storm • [.04.] My urgent knocking • [.05.] The wings of god • [.06.] The silence between two notes • [.07.] In the stillness of your depth • [.08.] Musician stop! (Original poem by Mark Waldman) • [.09.] Taqsim in D Nahawand • [.10.] Taqsim in C Rust • [.11.] Taqsim in D Hijaz • [.12.] Taqsim in A Hijaz • [.13.] Taqsim in G Ajam • [.14.] Taqsim in D Ajam • [.15.] Taqsim in D Nahawand • [.16.] Taqsim in D Nahawand
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I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone
.
I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.
.
I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.
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