This short lied by Robert Schumann might take less than two minutes to perform, but to me it contains the entire universe of human love and longing. It stops me dead in my tracks – completely unable to move – every time I hear it. It is the opening movement of Dicheterliebe, Schumann’s Song Cycle masterpiece and window into his heart, depression, and mental instability.

I’m afraid to write about it, actually, because I’m afraid of ruining it. It’s an easy piece to analyze from a technical standpoint, but oddly enough, no matter how much I tear it apart, the emotional effect doesn’t diminish. The melody & harmony are simple, but not simplistic; the poetry rhymes – nothing weird here. I think the magic comes from the fact that nothing ever comes to a complete resolution – the piece floats in a special space of unknowing and awkwardness. It’s a moment of heart-wrenching love for another that will not be returned.

Remember that Seinfeld episode that turned a stupid catchphrase into a national sensation? ***

Thomas Morley (friend and composer of no less than Shakespeare) was in last week’s post: “April is in my Mistress’ Face“. His “Now is the Month of Maying” is another madrigal with seasonal references. This time, though, his December-hearted lover has been warmed by the May sun: