Lux aeterna
Cum sanctis tuis Eternal light

Requiem aeternam Eternal rest

The silence before a prayer, when words still feel heavy. Mozart begins not with weeping but with a slow walk: bassoons and basset horns step like a procession, and the voices enter one by one, as if people were coming closer in turn. The grief is held back, and that is why it runs deep.

Kyrie eleison Lord, have mercy

A plea that cannot stop. Two themes cling to each other and the music flows without a breath, like a crowd calling with one voice. Mozart turns 'have mercy' not into a whisper but into an insistent demand, and only at the very end does it break into syllables.

Dies irae Day of wrath

Sudden terror with nowhere to hide. The choir hammers the words together, the strings tremble, and there is not a single soft note. Mozart shows not a picture of the Judgement but how that day feels to a person: sharp, close, with no right of reply.

Tuba mirum The trumpet

A summons, and then everything falls quiet. The trombone sounds not menacing but solemn and alone, and the voices take the word in turn, as if each were stepping forward. The higher the line climbs, the more personal the fear becomes, until a simple question is heard: what shall I say?

Rex tremendae King of fearful majesty

Awe before a majesty too great to look at directly. The heavy dotted rhythm is a king's entrance, and the choir cries out his title three times into silence. But in the last bars Mozart strips away the splendour: all that remains is a quiet 'save me', spoken almost on an out-breath.

Recordare Remember

A calm conversation with the one who can forgive. The voices do not compete but intertwine, like thoughts that have long been carried. Mozart neither frightens nor weeps here: this is the longest and warmest movement, where a person persuades rather than begs in panic.

Confutatis The accursed

Two worlds side by side: flame and light. The men's voices plunge down into the fire of the strings, the women answer from above, quiet and almost still. Then everything sinks, the harmony wavers, and what remains is a single heart ground to ash, asking to be cared for at its end.

Lacrimosa Tearful day

Tears for someone else. The strings sob, the melody rises and breaks, as if the voice could not hold. Right here, at bar eight, Mozart's hand stopped, and everything after it is a pupil's attempt to finish his teacher's prayer.

Domine Jesu Lord Jesus Christ

The fear of the abyss and the light of a promise in one movement. The basses fall deep on the words about hell, the music races away from the lion's mouth, and then the quartet unexpectedly clears. The fugue at the end sounds like a stubborn memory of an old promise: it was given, so it must come true.

Hostias Sacrifices and prayers

Quiet remembrance of particular people. The rhythm rocks gently, like a slow dance, and the choir sings in plain chords, without any pressure. This is the gentlest place in the work: no one begs for rescue from judgement here; a prayer is offered for those remembered today.

Sanctus Holy

Sudden light and praise. After a long darkness, trumpets and timpani sound in D major for the first time, like doors thrown wide open. Süssmayr writes a joy that is short and straightforward, without doubt or shadow.

Benedictus Blessed

Warmth after brilliance. The soloists sing calmly and lyrically, like a greeting to someone arriving in peace. Süssmayr lets the listener rest: there is no fear in this music, only gentle expectation.

Agnus Dei Lamb of God

A humble plea in which the weight can still be heard. One phrase sounds three times: firm on 'Lamb of God', quiet on 'grant them rest'. Each time the harmony shifts a little, as if the burden were slowly easing, and the third time it brightens.

Lux aeterna Eternal light

Coming home as a different person. The same music as at the beginning returns, but now with words about eternal light and mercy. The grief has not gone, yet the listener has walked the whole way and hears in the familiar theme not hopelessness but peace.