(besides, any excuse for me to post another version of Bolero, well...)
Though not directly on topic, I'm going to throw this out there since this blog incorporated the counter-jihad and music interests.
The West is under siege with an unprecedented migration/invasion of hostile musselmen determined to bring the world under control of a resurrecting caliphate.
Unlike previous attempts to conquer Europe and now the Americas, this hijrah/migration is supported by Western elites under a predetermined ill-conceived cultural-suicide/culture-cide mission.
When the musselmen marched upon Europe in prior centuries, they came in massive numbers described in colorful detail in the Hungarian novel by Géza Gárdonyi, “Eclipse of the crescent Moon”. A novel many Hungarian children read to learn about the Siege of Eger ( “Egri csillagok”).
There is a passage in this novel which describes wave after wave of the invading forces . May I suggest reading this passage accompanied by a classical musical piece, Ravel's "Boléro" because it has an insistent quality which illuminates the incremental significance of each regiment/division, gaining in scope of clothing, armament, beast, splendor and importance to the very last by gradually increasing the use of each instrument within the orchestra .
Youth musicians from the Conservatoire de Paris (CNSMDP) were in Sao Paulo, Brazil to flash- mob-perform Ravel's Bolero in 2013...
I chose this video performance because it visually captures the essence of taking over a space and changing the character of the location - albeit, in this instance captivating the audience in a positive manner.
Thanks anon.
Flashmob performing Ravel's Bolero.
Text from Géza Gárdonyi's “Eclipse of the crescent Moon”.
The sun rose. The forest was covered in dew. blackbirds trilled. Pigeons cooed. In the distance the first horsemen raised a cloud of dust as they came from the direction of Pecs.
The road could be seen stretching in the cloud of dust as far as the city itself. At last, a paprika-red banner appeared in the cloud in front of them, then two, then five and then o\more and more of them. Beneath and after the banners came soldiers in high turbans on Arab steeds. The horses were so tiny that some soldiers’ feet almost touched the ground.
“Those are the gurebas,” Tulip explained. “They are always the first to come. They’re not real Turks.”
“What are they then?
“Arabs, Persians, Egyptians, a mixture of all kinds of riff-raff.”
That was obvious. They were wearing a mixture of clothes. One had an enormous brass plume on his head, and his nose was missing. He had already been in Hungary.
The second regiment following them carried a green-striped white banner. Their faces were tanned and they wore blue baggy trousers. Their faces showed that they had eaten and drunk well that night.
“Those are the ulufedjis ,”said tulip. “Mercenaries, military policemen. They also look after the war-treasury. Can you see that fat bellied man with the smashed forehead? With big hrass buttons on his chest...?”
“Yes”.
“His name’s Turna. That means ‘crane’. But I’d sooner call him ‘pig’.”
“Why?”
“I once saw him eating a hedgehog.”
Ad Tulip turned his head and spat.
A regiment with a yellow banner galloped along in their wake. Their weapons shone brighter. The horse of one of the agas sported a silver-studded breast-ornament.
“Those are silahtars,” said Tulip. “They’re also mercenaries. Hey, you bandits and gallow-birds! I served with you for two years!” And he laughed.
Next came the spahis with their bows and arrows and red flags, their officers in armour; with broad curving swords at their side. Then the Tatars with their pointed caps. A mass of fat faces, leather jerkins and wooden saddles.
“A thousand...two thousand....five thousand...ten thousand.” counted Gergely.
“You’ll never count them”, said Tulip with a dismissive wave, “there are probably something like twenty thousand of them.”
“Well, they’re ugly, bony-cheeked people.”
“The turks destest them too. They eat horses’ heads.”
“Horses head?”
“Well, they don’t get one each, but they’re certain to put one in the center of the table.”
“Boiled or roast?”
“It would be something if they were at least boiled or roasted. but they eat them raw. And these dogs have no mercy even for newly born babes. You see, they take out a man’s spleen.”
“Don’t say such horrible things!”(to be continued)
said... "“But that’s how it is. You see, they think that if they rub their horse’s palate with human spleen it will gain new energy, however tired it is.”
Gergely withdrew his head in disgust from among the foliage. “I’m not watching them, he said. “They’re not human.”
Tulip, however, went on watching them.
“Here comes the nisandji bey,” he said a quarter of an hour later. “He’s the one who inscribes the name of the padishah on papers that have his seal.”
Gergely looked down. All he saw was a pike-headed stately Turk with a long moustache sitting plumply on his little steed among the soldiers.
Next cam the defterdar, an delderly crook-backed Arab, the Turkish Minister of finance. Following him in another group of soldiers was the Kazai asker in a long yellow robe and a tall white cap. He was the chief judge-advocate. The cheshnidjis, or stewards and butlers came next, then the court bodyguard. They glittered with gold.
And now the Turkish bands were playing. Amid all the braying of trumpets and the clash of tambourines the varied colours of numerous army corps appeared and went past – the court hunters, whose horses’ manes were coloured red, while they themselves carried falcons on their arms.
After the huntsmen came the imperial stud. Prancing, fiery steeds, some already saddles. Solaks and janissaries led the horses.
After the horsemen tall horsetailed banners fluttered over the road. three hundred kapudjis, all of them in identical white caps embroidered with gold. At home they were the sultan’s palace guards.
Through the clouds of dust the long line of janissaries gleamed white along the road. Their backward-drooping white caps soon became mingled with the officers’ red caps and the blue broadcloth uniforms they wore. Their caps were decorated with a spoon in front.
“Is the sultan still a long way off?” asked Gergely.
“Oh yes, he must be some way off,” replied Tulip. “There are at least ten thousand janissaries. Then come the chavishes and all sorts of court dignitaries.
“In that case let’s move back a bit and have a bite to eat.”
On the south side the rock hid them from the army. On the road which sloped down to the north they could see the countless host descending into the valley.
“We might even have a nap too,” Declared Tulip. And he opened his knapsack. Out of it rattled a chain.
“Why, whatever’s that?” asked Gergely in surprise.
Tulip raised his eyebrows and laughed. “It’s a good friend to me. Without it I never step outside the village.”
And since the student looked at him in puzzlement, he went on, “That’s my chain. every time I go out of the village, I fasten one end of it to my leg. You see, then I’ve no need to fear the Turks (end)
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