Many people will turn to music today for solace and comfort. I know that Mozart's Requiem will be making quite the rounds, but as much as I love the Requiem (I once sang it with a full choir and orchestra when I was a high school student), I'll be listening to Henryk Gorecki's Symphony No. 3, Opus 36, Symphony of Sorrowful Songs. Gorecki, a modern Polish composer, wrote his hauntingly beautiful Third Symphony in 1976, and the enthusiastic reception it received catapulted him into international reknown (he is still alive and writing music today). Here are the lyrics from the third movement of this work, in Polish, then with the English translation:

Kajze mi sie podziol
moj synocek mily?
Pewnie go w powstaniu
zle wrogi zabily.

Wy niedobrzy ludzie,
dlo Boga swietego
cemuscie zabili
synocka mojego?

Zodnej jo podpory
juz nie byda miala,
chocbych moje stare
ocy wyplakala.

Chocby z mych lez gorkich
drugo Odra byla,
jesce by synocka
mi nie ozywila.

Lezy on tam w grobie,
a jo nie wiem kandy,
choc sie opytuja
miedzy ludzmi wsandy.

Moze nieborocek
lezy kay w dolecku,
a moglby se lygac
na swoim przypiecku.

Ej, cwierkejcie mu tam,
wy ptosecki boze,
kiedy mamulicka
znalezc go nie moze.

A ty, boze kwiecie,
kwitnijze w okolo,
niech sie synockowi
choc lezy wesolo.

Where has he gone
My dearest son?
Perhaps during the uprising
The cruel enemy killed him.

Ah, you bad people
In the name of God, the most Holy,
Tell me, why did you kill
My son?

Never again
Will I have his support
Even if I cry
My old eyes out.

Were my bitter tears
To create another River Oder
They would not restore to life
My son.

He lies in his grave
And I know not where
Though I keep asking people
Everywhere.

Perhaps the poor child
Lies in a rough ditch
And instead he could have been
Lying in his warm bed.

Oh, sing for him
God's little song-birds
Since his mother
Cannot find him.

And you, God's little flowers,
May you blossom all around
So that my son
May sleep happily.