silent melody

"In a split second I saw a woman running from my left. It was the last day she would be known on this earth. But I'll never forget her. Swaddled, she ran, she fell. The child He flew into the flames in an arc.

The people in front of them were running, screaming, and twitching their upper limbs.In my extreme fear and shock, they fell one by one due to lack of oxygen and were engulfed in flames one by one.

Fear overwhelmed me so madly that I could no longer think.Can't be burned...can't...that's all I have in mind and I repeat it over and over again.I don't know how many people fell in the flames, I only know that I must not be burned. "

—Margaret Freyer, survivor of the bombing of Dresden

The young Italian scholar Ramos Giasotto could not see this terrible flame.The terror of air raids is over.As he struggled through the ruins, he was on guard against the outbreak of any potential duds.

After the air raids, Dresden smelled of burning, and a barbecue-like aroma - once you think about the aroma of thousands of charred corpses, this smell of meat will only make you sick .The grotesque corpses roasted by the flames and the equally grotesque buildings look like excellent postmodern works of art.A charred woman stretched out her hands from the ruins, with empty eye sockets and remaining teeth, with a praying expression; the results of continuous cleaning over the past few months were piled up on the side of the street: unidentifiable black objects, who could not be distinguished from people Or construction debris.

But life goes on, even in hell, because you can't escape.How many people died, who can know?Epic tragedies, anonymous crowds, and stunningly beautiful cities burned up in man-made fires.

Without the Zwinger Palace, Dresden State Opera House, Frauenkirche Church and other landmark buildings, Giasotto doesn't know how he came to his destination.

Poor Saxon State Library/SaxonStateLibrary.A local library.Or, a former local library.Collapsed roofs, floors that no longer exist.The wall sculptures are twisted and torn apart, and around the angel's neck are fragments of lilies.Ashes, whether from books, buildings, bookshelves, or people who died unfortunately, piled up on the ground.

In this panic and sorrow, there are still some bookshelves, broken or half broken, standing among the ruins.The sun slanted down through the big hole in the roof, and the dust rolled up with ash, a reminder of what a beautiful summer it had been.The survivors of the bombing moved scatteredly in the burned library, looking for their favorite books, leaning on the bookshelves and reading like this, as usual.Carbonized bookshelves, broken books, fragments on the ground, people reading quietly.What a paradoxical picture.

Gia Soto is also such an out-of-date person. He came to this ruin to find a more ancient ruin and hope to restore it.The name of that ruin is Tommaso Giovanni Albinoni.The long-gone 18th-century Venetian Baroque musicians, or the devastated city and pile of corpses?Young scholars are simply seeking a refuge.If the world of the 20th century has become hell, why not let the spirit live in the northern Italian sea breeze of the 18th century.

Before the world catastrophe began, scholars cataloged the works of the long-forgotten Venetian composer and attempted to chart a life lost in time.The scholar knew where the man he was looking for was - in the Saxon State Library.Giasotto confirmed that Albinoni's materials after the 18s basically survived here.

It's a pity he came too late.It is not time that destroys everything, but human beings themselves.

The former bookshelf has never been as clear as it is now, and it remains clearly in his memory, overlapping in phantom before his eyes.However, the scene in front of him has completely shattered his illusory refuge.Broken walls, bookshelves hacked by axes and knives, collapsed ceilings, scattered black pages, and air poured in from the former roof.The silence of death, the solemnity of Roman ruins.

Unwilling to give up, the young scholar dug through the accumulated debris with his bare hands.A piece of jewelry from a crystal chandelier, a piece of carving on a beam, and a corner of an old book cover.Rubble, shrapnel, dust.There were times when he saw, he found, he was sure they were in his hands, sonata scores, concerto movements.But they have been unbearable to the flames of war, and after a moment of existence, like autumn butterflies, they disappear in the hands of scholars.Those melodies, which have not yet been sketched in his mind, have dissipated in every inch of sunlight, air and sorrow around him.

Grief, great grief.Living in hopelessness, wishes are never fulfilled.Collapsed shelters, influx of despair.In the silence, Ramo Giasoto couldn't even believe that such a small human being could have such deep sorrow.

Yes, you should not bear such sorrow.

The hand was scratched by the tiles, and the blood slowly oozes out mixed with ashes.Red breaks the monotony of gray, and the scholar's heart numb by sadness suddenly touches.

It seems that it is Venice in the wet season, and the sea water pours into St. Mark's Basilica and into the streets and alleys on the first floor.He stood in the building facing the water and opened the door.The sea water poured in, engulfing him soundlessly.

Grief seeped into his heart from the outside world.

As if standing alone in the flooded St. Mark's Square.The midnight street corner lights shone on the dark sea water, and the sea breeze sent some water foam to his young face.

He felt the silent tears flowing in the distance.

It seems that the city logo of Venice on the bell tower hides the chaotic moon and the clouds in the sky...

These are not his memories, and it is far better than the sadness that he cannot reproduce a period of history!

Giasoto searched in the direction of the faint, strong, vague, and deep sorrow, and came to the corner of the completely collapsed reading room not far away.The sunlight slowly moved into the darkness, and among the indistinguishable ruins, the images gradually became clear.

He is there.

Tommaso Giovanni Albinoni.

Drooping eyelashes, brown eyes, chestnut curly hair falling on the shoulders, dark red robes hanging from the thin body, disappearing beside the half-kneeling, limp legs.He neither rejoiced nor wept.He silently looked at the unattainable ruins beside him.Suddenly, he felt the warm eyes of humans.He turned his head slowly and looked at the young Italian guy in front of him.

Giasotto watched the hero of his biography unfold before him, and the shock could not quite save him from the deep sorrow that had preceded him.Albinoni also looked slightly surprised, he opened his mouth slightly, he never thought that humans could see him.

It is the strong common desire, which transcends life and death, time and space, and resonates in this land of compassion, to manifest this miracle.

Sorrow is as strong as a river breaking its embankment, but quietly flows out of Albinoni's body like a brook.He stretched out his empty hand, without words or further movements.

Gia Soto looked at the senior, and there were two fragments lying in the hands of the senior.They floated down from the illusory hands and fell into the trembling hands of the young man.

"Church Sonata"

Accompanied by Albinoni's breath, Giasotto quickly looked at the remaining information in his hand.A few surviving continuo bass lines.The first six bars of the first violin theme.

"Sorry young man this is all I can find"

Giasotto holds the fragment of the score, shocked, confused and mourned.Albinoni withdrew his hand. He wanted to say something, but he had no more strength.It seems that Albinoni's time is running out for the sun to erode the vampires that are about to turn into smoke and for the heat to warm the ice crystals that are about to melt.He looked at the young man and slowly opened his mouth.

Albinoni began singing just as he had done two centuries earlier at the Venetian Guild of Singers he ran.

Sadness, mourning, mourning, or something that cannot be described in these words, a painful mood flows slowly from the mouth of Albinoni who is slowly disappearing in a very soft way; no, it is he who is about to disappear The soul floated out from every inch of his flying body.Giasotto had no time to judge whether this was the second half of the only surviving church sonata, or the inner portrayal of his predecessors at this time. He tried his best to record every note of this desperate song.

G minor.Flexo.

Albinoni's voice became weaker and weaker. When his body was almost unrecognizable, he stopped singing, and wanted to say a final farewell to the young man who still commemorated him in this chaotic world.

"Mr. Albinoni... I, Ramo Giasotto, will do whatever it takes to bring you back to the world!"

Looking at the young man who promised him with tears in his eyes, Albinoni's eyes were full of sorrow and relief. He wanted to say something, but the world didn't give him more time.

Albinoni disappeared.

Giasotto stood alone in the ruins of the Saxon National Library, with the ruins behind him and the sunlight streaming down from the roof that no longer existed.This is Dresden, Dresden after the bombing.

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【My other nonsense】

I hope this little episode can give everyone a positive impression of the flexo in G minor. XD "Albinoni in Dresden I" indicates that there will definitely be II, which will be another episode in a long time.

As the novel progresses, after Pergolesi, Marcello, and Albinoni all suffered misfortunes, it may be easy for everyone to guess who suffered next.The next chapter will be full of illusions of summer and severe cold of winter, tragedy of Vienna and memory of Venice, death in history and destruction in reality...

The author has something to say:

Today's episode.A relatively independent fictional story about flexo in G minor, I hope you like it XD.

First introduce the real history.Now Albinoni seems to be one-hitwonder, known to the world because of the Adagio in G minor; the fragments of the original work of Adagio "composed by Albinoni and arranged by Gia Sotto" have not been clarified for a long time Pointed out, and made countless people doubt the authenticity of Giasotto's claim that "the fragments of Albinoni's church sonata were found in the Saxon National Library after the Dresden bombing and were sorted out accordingly".However, the Giasothos are dead, and now we have no way of guessing whether this moving Adagio in G minor is Albinoni's work or Giasoto's creation under the guise of his predecessors.

Based on this history, I made up this short story about the Adagio in G minor to express my love for this work.Although "Melody of Silence" tries to discover "Albinoni beyond the Adagio in G minor" (similarly to "Vivaldi beyond the Four Seasons", "Bach beyond the aria on the G string" etc), But these vulgar works... are still my favourites.

【Related Music】

TomasoAlbinoni:Adagio,forviolin,strings&organinGminor,T.Mi26

It is strongly recommended to read this chapter while listening to this song~ [Quickly stop Amway