Chapter 9 Chapter nine

It was not until a little later that I fell into sorrow like she did.As it usually happens, I can't help thinking that I'm sorry for my deceased friend.In fact, the worst thing is that he always does things that hurt himself, including his suicide.I have thought a great deal about it, but all I can find in his encounters is something vague and incomprehensible, and all cruel and ridiculous.And my own life was no different, as was that of Gertrude and many others.Fate is bad, life is ridiculous and cruel, goodness and reason do not exist in nature.But in us, in us humans, there is goodness and reason, and we can be stronger than nature and fate, even if it is only accidental and only exists at certain moments. "We can be close to each other, and if misfortune happens, we can understand each other, we can love each other, and we can comfort each other and live on.

Sometimes there is more we can do when we are silenced by a deeper darkness.We may become gods for a moment, stretch out our ruling hand to create all things that never were, and when things are done, let them go on without us.We are able to create works of art out of sound and language, and out of many other broken and worthless things, to create works and songs full of meaning, comfort, and kindness that are brighter and brighter than the lives created by fate and chance. The status quo is more beautiful and immortal.We can hold God in our hearts.Sometimes, when we have God within us, He can see the world through our eyes and our words, and can talk to other people He doesn't know or doesn't want to know.We must not detach our mind from life, but be able to train and direct it, not only as an accident, but as a constant pain.

In the years since Heinrich Motte's burial, I have seen him literally a thousand times in this way, and I have been able to talk to him more kindly and wisely than he did in his lifetime.And so the years passed, and I saw my old mother lay and fade away, and I saw the beautiful and lively Bridgette Tessel pass away, who, after years of waiting and letting her wounds heal, married gave birth to a musician, only to die in her first childbirth. Gertrude had already overcome the pain that had overwhelmed her so suddenly, that time, when she had just returned home, she received our flowers—a greeting and a quest from a dead man.Although I saw her every day, I seldom mentioned it to her, but I believe that she looked back on her spring as if she were looking back on a distant valley she had seen in her early travels, rather than in a valley she had seen in her early travels. In a lost paradise.She regained her strength and cheerful personality, and she also sang again.But since she kissed the cold lips of her dead husband, she never kissed another man.Once or twice a year.When I saw her healthy body and smelled the familiar scent of slightly astringent flowers, I couldn't help walking to her side along the old forbidden road, thinking in my heart: Why not?But deep down inside I already knew what the answer would be, and there was nothing I could change in my life or hers.She is my friend. Whenever I have lived a lonely and restless life, I want to get out of the silence. Whenever I have a song or a sonata, I always think that it belongs to us. jointly owned.Mott is right that people are more satisfied in old age than in youth, so I don't want to slander youth, because youth is like a beautiful song that resounds in all my dreams. The period that actually existed sounded purer and more sincere.