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TRANSLATION: Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, Op. 21 - "Sick Moon"

Lost in the fire of last year's Pierrot centennial was translation. After all, it was Otto Erich Hartleben's German--translated from the original French of Albert Giraud--that Arnold Schoenberg had set.

And with Stanley Appelbaum's Anglicised Hartleben turning 20 next year (not to mention having its own Twitter account @PierrotTweets), Classicalite figured a new English language translation was passed due.

To wit, for the next 21 weekdays, we'll be offering a new take on each of Giraud/Hartleben/Appelbaum's 3x7 poems...alongside some of our favorite performances.

SICK MOON

O moon, somber and death-stricken
There on heaven's black pillow,
Your wide-eyed, feverish stare
Casts a spell on me like a faraway tune.

You are about to die a yearing gloom.
Dead of thirst, love completely stifled,
O moon, somber and death-stricken
There on heaven's black pillow.

The lover, his heart aflame,
Heedlessly off to meet his lover,
Rejoices in the play of your beams--
Your pallid, pain-spoiled blood
O moon, somber and death-stricken.

Up next: "Nacht (Passacaglia)"

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