"Six months have gone since people here
Knew any touch of joy;
The gods now play a devil's game,
And we, their ill-used toy.
You do not know, O Roman man,
The horrors that we know.
The things we've seen no man must see
Nor meet with such a foe.
Our young men and our womenfolk
Have never known such fear;
You chose to seek a town of death
When you did venture here.
Six months have gone since first we saw
Persephone's deadly spawn,
Since first our sons were torn from us;
What gods we have, how treacherous
Was shown that bloody morn.
Ignorant are you, O man,
How ignorant and blind!
What have you known, what could you know
Of that which plagues our kind?"
The people wept, the soldier stood,
The chieftain grew more pale.
A dread air hung about the place
As the chief began their tale.
19th Sunday after Trinity: Pic & Cantata of the Week - (Click on picture to see larger image) This article describes the metaphorical world Bach creates in today’s rich solo bass cantata, BWV 56, “Ich will den ...
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