音乐团结世人，音乐没有国界。不同文化背景的人怀着相同的紧迫问题和相同的渴望与历史的遗迹和国外伟大的人物进行互动。

拉姆斯巴赫的文化之屋怀着此种理念与上海科托艺术学院一道开启了一次发现之旅。

徘徊于贝多芬，舒曼和勃拉姆斯的足迹， 亲身感受着彼时中闪耀的遗迹。

从而意识到成长于艺术世界的此时，一个问题从我们脑中产生：是否舒曼的“外国的土地和人民”可以被认为是一个旧时诗歌中的陌生人？是过去的艺术性创造的外国土地和人民形象的丰碑？

 一些印象：

上海科托艺术学院的优秀学员体验着并醇醉于Steingräber & Sons 大钢琴205型（“弗朗兹 李斯特”型）那无与伦比的声音。

Up there at his look-out

The old knight has fallen asleep;

Rain-storms pass overhead,

And the wood stirs through the portcullis.

Beard and hair matted together,

Ruff and breast turned to stone,

For centuries he’s sat up there

In his silent cell.

Outside it’s quiet and peaceful,

All have gone down to the valley,

Forest birds sing lonely songs

In the empty window-arches.

Down there on the sunlit Rhine

A wedding-party’s sailing by,

Musicians strike up merrily,

And the lovely bride—weeps.

To the distant beloved:

Resounding through all the notes / In the earth's colorful dream / There sounds a faint long-drawn note / For the one who listens in secret.

天使与魔鬼们生活于此

Somber is the autumn,
and when the leaves fall,
so does the heart sink
into dreary woe.
Silent is the meadow
and to the south have flown
silently all the songbirds,
as if to the grave.

Pale is the day,
and wan clouds veil
the sun as they veil the heart.
Night comes early:
for all work comes to a halt
and existence itself rests in profound secrecy.

Man becomes kindly.
He sees the sun sinking,
he realizes that life is
like the end of a year.
His eye grows moist,
yet in the midst of his tears shines
streaming from the heart
a blissful effusion.

Contrapunctus 1

Yonder light gleams through the willows,

and a pale glimmer

beckons to me from the bedroom

of my sweetheart.

It flickers like a will-o’-the-wisp,

and its reflection sways gently

in the circle

of the undulating lake.

I gaze longingly

into the blue of the waves,

and greet the bright

reflected beam.

And spring to the oar,

and swing the boat

away on its smooth,

crystal course.

My sweetheart slips lovingly

down from her little room,

and joyfully hastens to me

in the boat.

Then the breezes gently

blow us again

out into the lake

from the elder tree on the shore.

The pale evening mists

envelop and veil

our silent, innocent dallying

from prying onlookers.

And as we exchange kisses,

the waves lap,

rising and falling,

to foil eavesdroppers.

Only stars in the far distance

overhear us, and bathe

deep down below the course

of the gliding boat.

So we drift on blissfully,

in the midst of darkness,

high above

the twinkling stars.

Weeping, smiling,

we think we have soared free

of the earth, and are already up above,

on another shore.