Maybe I do.

Maybe we all do?

Gabriel Fauré: Cantique de Jean Racine
VOCES8; English Chamber Orchestra; Barnaby Smith, Conductor

Word of the Highest, our only hope,
Eternal day of earth and the heavens,
We break the silence of the peaceful night;
Saviour Divine, cast your eyes upon us!

Pour on us the fire of your powerful grace,
That all hell may flee at the sound of your voice;
Banish the slumber of a weary soul,
That brings forgetfulness of your laws!

O Christ, look with favour upon your faithful people
Now gathered here to praise you;
Receive their hymns offered to your immortal glory;
May they go forth filled with your gifts.

Have I shared this work before? I can’t recall. But it moves me, as someone who now deals with a hearing loss. Mine, though, is nothing compared to Beethoven’s.

You can read more about the work here.

A Silence Haunts Me
adapted from a letter by
Ludwig van Beethoven
Hear me, brothers —
I’ve a confession painful to make.
Six years I have endured a curse
that deepens every day. They say
that soon I’ll cease to hear the very
music of my soul. What should be
the sense most perfect in me
fails me, shames me, taunts me.
A silence haunts me.

They ask me —
Do you hear the shepherd singing
far-off soft? — Do you hear a distant
fluting dancing joyously aloft?
— No. — I think so? — No. — I
think so? — No.
God, am I Prometheus? — exiled
in chains for gifting humankind
my fire? Take my feeling —
take my sight — take my wings
midflight but let me hear the
searing roar of air before I score
the ground!
Why? — Silence is God’s reply
— and so I beg me take my life —
when lo — I hear a grace and feel
a ringing in me after all —
so now as leaves of autumn fall, I
make my mark and sign my name
and turn again to touch my flame
of music to the world, a broken
man, as best I can,
As ever,
Faithfully yours,
(— A bell? — A bell?)
Hear me,
and be well.