Up late, listening to Hugo Wolf

 Hugo Wolf ... the lieder lover's composer.

"Anakreons Grab." The grave of Anakreon, the Greek poet.

"Spring, summer and fall the happy poet enjoyed --
"From the winter now, finally, this grave protects him."

 It is sweet to hear it up above sung by John McCormack. The song is in German. The poem is by Goethe. And you can hear Mr. McCormack's Irish brogue.

The Wolf song is so tender, as if you almost do not want to approach the grave.

And the beautiful harmony when the song goes: "It is Anakreon's grave." Anakreon's Ruh, literally, Anakreon's rest.



Why am I listening to this? I should go to bed. To seek my own Ruh.

And yet ... It is a kind of haunting song, isn't it?

The poem is kind of along the theme of Elton John's "Goodbye Norma Jean." Never knowing who to turn to when the rain came in. Robert Gutman, the author of a book I loved about Mozart, prefaced his biography with this poem. The Goethe poem, I mean.

It kind of fits.