Symphony at Seventy

ANDANTE MODERATO

Heureux qui comme Ulysse…(1)
They tell me I am seventy.  Can I myself believe it?
Feel more like sixty, forty, twenty… live my life in continuity,
oblivious of my wrinkles, reading glasses, slower pace.
The child is father of the man (2) and still would play,
explore the light and shades of all these years,
mysterious alchemy of my subconscious.
Consciousness is what I crave -- more Light not less!
I hear the echoes of my childhood melodies,
intrigued by the archaic torso of my memories,
recalling snows of yesteryear, mercurial moods,
the adolescent fantasy of catching in the rye (3),
my Angst appeased by the Beatitude of feeling loved.
Today my shadows feel more palpable,
as I advance to no conclusion, in the midst of amber ambiguities,
with timeless time just slipping through my fingers to infinity….
A bitter-sweet and awesome feeling of melancholy
evokes the innocence of younger seasons, fleeting souvenirs
of high school, college, law school and post-graduate experiences,
the hallowed memory of serving Mass in seven countries,
singing in the Fordham Glee Club, concerts out of town, blind dates, blind instincts,
ushering at the Metropolitan Opera, the venerable old and the shiny new music hall,
meeting Birgit Nilsson -- ocean of a voice -- Christa Ludwig, René Kollo, Georg Solti,
premières at Bayreuth, ginger tea with Winifred. Salzburg Tristan, Rosenkavalier.
Nomadic joys of Mensur-fencing at Rhenania, graduating to Bier-ehrlich.
Fulbright Fellowship inTübingen, deer hunting in the Göttingen revier!
Harvard stress, bar examinations in New York and Florida,
surviving Wall Street litigation, thinking more of money than of justice.
Henceforth teaching lawyers suits me better, as I fondly think
of students in three continents, to whom I tried to teach some logic,
and from whom I learned as much, attesting that docendo discimus(4).
At times, I bit much more than I could chew, audacious as Ikarus,
often searched in vain what I already had:  zoek mijn paard, maar zit erop! (5)
I recognised my many contradictions, as I moved from paradox to paradox,
acknowledging that chaos metamorphizes to reason,
every crisis opening an opportunity to learn – and teach -- to live in empathy.
I tested out Horatius’ maxims, erring with the courage of conviction,
marching to the beat of my own drum, challenging most mainstream views,
the mouldy status quo and stuffy orthodoxies – at a price --
endorsing values like Antigone’s(6), the valour of intrepid non-conformists,
joining Sisyphus in rolling that old boulder up and up beyond the crest.
My motto: Gutta cavat lapidem (7) – a life of perseverance, patience, passion!
Thus I smile today at critics who thumbed down my books,
laugh last with those who did believe in me: sapere aude(8)!
Humbly I confess my mea culpas(9) to the Earth,
seek absolution in the virtuous songs of wind and water,
cosmic reconciliation with all living things.
Fifty plus has brought composure, seventy seems well over the hill.
For now I practice gritty optimism, determined still
to plant my apple tree ahead of the Apocalypse(10),
and re-enact the seven works of mercy(11).

SCHERZO AFFABILE

Felix sua sorte contentus(12).
Behind me lies a long career.  A modicum of prudence helped me prosper.
Now I can be free, direct, less diplomatic, choose my battles,
covet neither honour nor promotion, only otium cum dignitate(13).
Slowly have I grasped that there’s no happy end, just happy moments,
learned to lose with grace, let go of obstinate opinions, 
lest the curse of fiat iustitia et pereat mundus(14) bring about disaster.
More congenial is festina lente (15) , better constancy than haste.
The fitness goddess  Ὑγεία lets me cycle, swim and downhill ski.
Alas, no longer shall I scuba, skate, wind-surf or water-ski --
bit old for that.  Yet energy remains enough to watch the pretty girls go by,
to follow with my eyes a swan that glides on Lake Geneva,
listen to the organist rehearsing in an empty church,
convinced that Bach and Beethoven will outlast us all,
that Strauss’ celestial Four last Songs will spread their wings and soar with us.
Perhaps the time has come for wrapping up and making bucket lists,
for slowing down, discarding “indispensables”.
I navigate serenely, grin at many goals I failed to reach,
recalibrate, set new priorities with somewhat lower expectations,
negotiate the myriad pending things, aware that thanks are due
to genial friends and family -- some sort of armistice with former rivals too.
I do believe in closure urbi et orbi(16): all forgiven, grudges too!
The road from sixty to this splendid seventy transcended mountains,
valleys, oceans, lakes!  Two serious illnesses, two operations.
More than just two roads dividing in the forest (17)
many options, paths that subdivided once and yet again…
Millennia down the line the winds will blow, the surf will foam,
Mount Everest, Kilimanjaro, Chimborazo, Matterhorn will rise as ever,
while the Rhine will revel in its drive through Holland to the Sea,
the Danube too will celebrate its liturgy caressing Vienna, Bratislava, Budapest…

ADAGIO PENOSO

Wahn, Wahn! Überall Wahn! So sings Hans Sachs in Meistersinger (18),
arms race, false flags, killing fields, perpetual wars, conspiracy theories.
Vast cemeteries: Profits built on exploitation, speculation, asymmetrical relations,
phoney trickle-down philosophies, graffiti politics, casino economics, rip-offs,
Panem et circensis(19), virtual reality, spectatorsports, hollow hedonism, …
Banalities invade our lives, deprive us of the stimulus to immanence,
disrupt our link to mother Earth, the vital intimacy with our identity.
Our politicians utter bogus promises, deploy a rich kaleidoscope of lies,
seduce us with eccentric newspeak, leaving us to choose the “lesser evil”,
Scylla and Charybdis balloting: democracy as modern masquerade.
A toxic Zeitgeist fosters mental indolence that numbs our intellect,
a fast-track to dystopia, fatuous culture of n’importe quoi, a cult of nihilism.
Soon arose an industry of human rights to give lip service to humanity,
spin doctors of the media, merchants of political correctness,
opportunists, mercenaries, “flavour of the month” careerists,
apt at empty rhetoric, selective indignation, serving but themselves,
corrupting language to subvert both human rights and dignity,
inventing side-shows to distract from real issues, histrionic on non-issues.
Well-heeled lobbies blur the paradigm, parade a paroxysm of hypocrisy.
Most UN social resolutions never see implementation, right to peace unseen,
reports and plans of action unenforced – and unenforceable.
So too encyclicals of Popes: Rerum novarum, Pacem in terris,
Humanae Vitae, Laudato Si – so rich in content, lacking follow-up. 
And if we shouted as Cassandras in the corridors of power, who would listen?
No angelic hosts(20) – but deep state that allows a litany of suffering
and leaves injustices without redress, the victims still unsung.  
A sunset poem by von Eichendorff would leave us with an open question:
“Wie sind wir wandermüde-- Ist dies etwa der Tod?»(21)
We all will know the answer in good time,
the metaphor applies when we are wearied of the journey.
Upper generations are departed, parents and grandparents gone.
We are the senior orphans now, and soon will leave new orphans.
Younger folk pretend to take us as role models…should not disappoint them!
Now I mourn for friends who went before me…
Never understood why youngsters have to die.
Grateful to my loving parents, sister, brother, nephews,
generous God-children plentiful and fun.
I thank the Lord for giving me much more than just a fine companion,
but my alter ego, perfect union:  wife and raison d’être.
Yes, monogamy has worked for us.
God gave us Stefan, soon took him away: The nadir of our lives.
We’ll join him at St. George someday….  We know not when.
Our faith prepares us for the threshold, faith that gives us hope and meaning,
Nightfall frightens not.  We trust in God.
Hence carpe fidem, carpe diem, carpe noctem. Sursum corda!

ALLEGRO RISOLUTO

Seventy… Gaudeamus igitur, senes dum sumus ! 
Time for senior discounts, cheaper skiing on the slopes,
skiing down those blacks while singing Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus.
Ten more years, twenty even! Much to see and yet to learn,
Enough adrenalin, enthusiasm for the wild Australian outback,
Iceland’s many waterfalls, volcanoes, Eyjafjallajökull,
humour to observe a thousand butterflies, blue dragon flies,
invertebrates, marsupials, reptiles, funny cats and dogs.
Here a partial list of brave ambitions for my closing stages:
Read all books in my own library: Cervantes, Rilke, Hesse,
Marcus Tullius Cicero, Vergilius and Ovidius,
Reread Тургенев’s touching Месяцвдеревне(22)
learn to paint with water colours symphonies of spring and autumn hues,
yearn to sing Panis Angelicus – Cesar Frank’s uplifting tune,
which long ago I sang as tenor in school choirs,
ache to play again the hunting horn, the cor des alpes, the piano,
pause for Schubert’s sage Impromptus, No. 2 in A flat major -- distilled beauty --
listen to the songs of birds, the chirping of cicadas, drumming of wood peckers,
chanting flowers, joie de vivre, cheerful hours,
watch the squirrels chase each other, jump from branch to branch,
watch my turtles feast on dandelions, clover and my fingers.
I want to cycle hand in hand with my beloved, dance a final Waltz.
We still must hike from Belalp to the Oberaletsch Hütte,
stroll through the Burgundian Côte d’Or vineyards,
drink red Vosne-Romanée and Gevrey-Chambertin,
ramble through the Keukenhof, where flowers dance their reverie,
and endless daffodil and tulip fields caress the horizon,
inhale the heady perfume of the hyacinths, eat Dutch asparagus
in alabaster white, pick olives in Piegon, pink apricots in Sion,
marvel at Vermeer’s Het Meisje met de Parel(23),
stand in awe before the Chartres stained-glass panels,
pray in silence in the Church of Giornico, listen to the distant chapel bells.
Once more I want to swim in Playa de Kawama, breathe the Caribbean light
of Cuban breezes that caress the royal palms, snorkel over fire corals,
lose my way in Holland dunes and fly my kites on Noordwijk beaches.
Yes, just park me on the North Sea shore and let me watch the surf,
my eyes will follow every wave in limitless imagination,
sail the winds to blissful Hesperides(24) for a golden apéro!
Fancy I may once approach my Γνῶθισεαυτόν (25),
withdraw from noise and tinsel, keep my old Etruscan secrets,
and embrace with equanimity the tender grace of anonymity(26).

CODA

Life is worth living.  Love: the Leitmotif of Being!  
Ethereal and ephemeral:  all the more sublime.
I sing for vivat crescat floreat! (27)
Not wearied by the journey:  ready for renewed baptisms and epiphanies.
So many sunrises and sunsets to admire!
Gaudeo quoniam vivo (28). Here a toast to life!  
Fe y adelante!      

© Alfred de Zayas