Old
recordings
of Dutch vocalists
Where have your
spirits flown
to now? Did they soar up high? Are angels telling me that your
deliverance
is nigh?
But here a void
remains.
Why did you leave us?
Was music
just a shadow here on earth?
Your soul touched mine
today,
you minstrels of my youth. Released the One. Unfolded times gone by.
Made
me stop once more to see the town where kindness conquered, and years
were
kind, not cold.
All alone I drank and
rested
on your shoulder.
I raised my head up
high and
heard.
You dropped your
whispers:
"We are never going to
die, you fool! The essence of our soul most pure will speak to you. No
more
the flesh but still providing ecstacy. We bards forever never do
depart."
But why's your picture
withered
now? Why does your face look pale and grey? There's sorrow in your
tone.
And slowly, oh so slowly all your words will fade.
"We grieve about our
art.
It's nothing but a shadow. We've touched upon the essence but still we
grope
the dark. Go on ahead, you brave man! Search further, further still.
Lead
us down the hall where Stillness rules. That finally our voice may rest.
And you may rest upon
the Timeless."
Voices of time once
golden!
May Stillness be your arts transcendence. Find out the longing of your
youth.
Make ignorance look pale.
Do not betray the
fresh desires
of spring.
That autumn yield
abundant happiness.
And fertile be the
soil of winter.
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