Mahler's Symphony No.8: A Celestial Requiem Poem by William He

Mahler's Symphony No.8: A Celestial Requiem

Mahler's Symphony No.8: A Celestial Requiem
By William He

Clouds part, a jagged seam of light,
The tongue curls, brass shatters night,
Marimba gasps, a weary sigh.
An infant's wail from heaven's gate—on high,
Cold seeps into the soul, a shiver in bone,
Who dares to read the Maker's mind, unknown.
A figure draped in black, cross on chest,
A priest whose fervent zeal denies his rest.
Latin falls, God's will confessed,
Music pries heaven's gate on this quest,
Sky's light, like jade, held in tranquil grace.
Beside the cold cliff, a spring waits, unexpressed,
A lone form stands, by weight oppressed,
Years of harvest in quietude attest,
Each breath a prayer, a soul addressed.

A threefold chord, a sound so blessed,
A fragile tale on trembling notes expressed.
A single thread of sound, perilously thin,
Wind holds its breath, the air stretched thin.
'Father, into Thy hands, ' the last breath confessed,
Oboes shift light, in colors newly dressed,
A gleam of creation on darkness impressed.
A thousand gathered, all of them have guessed,
In harmony they bow, beat their breast.
Faustus, rise and fall, by longing possessed,
Ferryman of this world, with gall unblessed,
Blood on the breast, a sorrow repressed.
All pray, the heart's spark expressed,
It gutters in silence, a truth confessed.
The piece concludes, each marks the crest,
A star in slumber's ark, by silence blessed,
The moon soaks the rapturous lark with zest.

六丑 马勒《第八交响曲》
作者: 何威廉

恰玄云忽遏,
忏舌卷、
铜声清越。
木琴顿咽,
婴啼惊九阙,
冷沁魂彻。
造物谁堪测,
黑袍十架,
有牧师心热。
经文奉拉丁神诀,
乐启天门,
天光如玦。
泓泉傍崖寒冽,
见孤存兀立,
岁稔翻撷。

音符三叠,
正鸣弦指节。
一缕飞音细,
风籁歇。
耶稣续魄离别,
渐双簧变奏,
耀光澄澈。
千人阵、
管弦谐协。
浮士德、
现世升沉摆渡,
坠襟成血。
同祈祷、
心火明灭。
待曲终、
各抱残星睡,
空灵浸月。

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The poem foregrounds the work's dualities—ecstasy and terror, creation and requiem-like yearning, Christian invocation and humanistic apotheosis—while emphasizing the shiver of awe before the ineffable. It mirrors how Mahler's sprawling hour-and-a-half canvas boils down to a single, burning idea: love (divine, creative, erotic, redemptive) as the force that pierces the veil between mortal striving and eternal light. For listeners who find the Eighth overwhelming in its sheer force, this poem provides a quieter lens: a reminder that beneath the thousand voices lies a single, trembling human plea.
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