Ну,раз ты у нас такой полиглот,то обьясни мне,шо это такое?

Death And Music
INTRODUCTION

I saw the strength and heroism of Vedran Smailovic as he played his cello in the Square – a lone figure trying to bring attention to the madness of the siege. We joked about the TV journalist who, at that time, asked if Vedran was not crazy to sit there playing his cello while they were shelling Sarajevo. With impeccable irony and an elaborate gesture towards the assailants hidden in the surrounding hills, Vedran replied: “Why don’t you go and ask them if they are not crazy, shelling Sarajevo while I sit here playing my cello?”

VEDRAN SMAILOVIC TELLS:
"Memento Mori – Albinoni Adagio

Near my house in Sarajevo there was a bread shop. On May 27, 1992, a long queue of people stood in front of that shop, waiting for a truck which would bring bread… Instead of the bread, there came a terrible explosion… killing twenty-two of those people.
… Tyat night I couldn’t sleep. Sitting, thinking about life, I couldn’t understand why these innocent people, my good fellow citizens and next-door neighbours, with whom I had spent my childhood, should have their lives ended n such a terrible way. I understood only that in my town in time of war a life is worth absolutely nothing. Filled with sorrow, I eventually fell asleep at dawn, and was awakened by new explosions and the shouts of my neighbours, who were carrying children t shelters. I went to the shelter myself and returned home after the shelling was over. I washed my face and hands, shaved, and without thinking, put on my white shirt, black evening suit and white bow tie, took my cello and left home.

Looking at the new ruins, I arrived at the place of massacre. It was adorned with flowers, wreaths and peace messages; there were posters on local shops saying who had been killed. I opened my cello case and sat down, not knowing what I would play. Full of sadness and grief, I lifted my bow and spontaneously made music. I was playing and crying at the same time, but the tears pouring down my cheeks could not express the pain and sorrow I had deep inside me. At some moment, I recognized that the music, pouring from me like my tears, was Albinoni’s Adagio, but different… a new variation creating itself out of the depth of grief and sorrow, out of the sheer emotional intensity of horror.
The passersby stopped and listened and cried with me; they placed flowers, prayed, lit candles. When I finished, there was no applause. I slowly rose, stood in silence for one minute and put the instrument in its case. People gathered around me and we talked. I must say, I felt a little better.

Later in a nearby café, a friend asked me when I should play again. I said I did not intend to play again. He started to talk me into it. The café owner brought coffee and joined my friend in persuading me to repeat my musical prayer for peace. Other people joined in with the same idea. It became clear to me that they needed me to play because they too felt better after they heard the music. I understood then that Albinoni’s Adagio is healing music, that music heals, and that this was no longer a purely personal issue. That was when I decided to play for twenty-two days in a row, disregarding the danger, and to dedicate one day to each of my twenty-two fellow citizens killed in the bread-queue massacre.

Albinoni’s Adagio is the saddest, saddest music I know. This track is dedicated to all innocent civilians who have been killed in wars everywhere throughout the history of planet Earth”.
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