1. |
Le bouquet
01:49
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[English translation below]
Que faites-vous là petite fille
Avec ces fleurs fraîchement coupées?
Que faites-vous là jeune fille
Avec ces fleurs ces fleurs séchées?
Que faites-vous là jolie femme
Avec ces fleurs qui se fanent?
Que faites-vous là vieille femme
Avec ces fleurs qui meurent?
J'attends le vainqueur
What are you doing there, little girl,
With those freshly cut flowers ?
What are you doing there, young girl,
With those dried flowers ?
What are you doing there, pretty woman,
With those faded flowers ?
What are you doing there, old woman,
With those dying flowers ?
I'm waiting for the victorious one
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2. |
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Tonight when I got your letter
I went for a walk in the woods
Where a full moon baled by a flume of cloud
and glowing ghostly through the trees
and glistened on a glimmering stream
while the wind as it coasts through the branches
hissed like escaping steam.
And I sat on the bridge that crosses the stream
and settled down to dream a night dream
I dreamed of you somewhere in the sun
As I sat alone in the moon
And I thought of the night when I will set out
To bring you home to me
To a house that looks onto this scene
I thought of the night when I will set out
To bring you home to me
To a house that looks onto this scene
And there where the dark forest path leads down
To the dappled moonlit glade
Two trees stand silent like watchers all a-grey
And in my night-dream
I saw you there smiling a smile of the brae.
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3. |
Away in a manger
01:58
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Away in a manger
No crib for a bed
The little Lord Jesus
Lay down his sweet head
The stars in the sky
Look down where he lay
The little Lord Jesus
Asleep on the hay
The cattle are lowing
The poor baby wakes
But little Lord Jesus
No crying he makes
I love thee Lord Jesus
Look down from the sky
And stay by my cradle
'Til morning is nigh
Away in a manger
No crib for a bed
The little Lord Jesus
Lay down his sweet head
The stars in the heavens
Look down where he lay
The little Lord Jesus
Asleep on the hay
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4. |
Ariette Oubliée No. 4
04:31
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[English translation below]
Il faut, voyez-vous, nous pardonner des choses:
De cette façon nous serons bien heureuses
Et si notre vie a des instants moroses,
Du moins nous serons, n'est-ce pas? deux pleureuses.
O que nous mêlions, âmes sœurs que nous sommes,
A nos vœux confus la douceur puérile
De cheminer loin des femmes et des hommes,
Dans le frais oubli de ce qui nous exile!
Soyons deux enfants, soyons deux jeunes filles
Éprises de rien et de tout étonnées
Qui s'en vont pâlir sous les chastes charmilles
Sans même savoir qu'elles sont pardonnées.
You see, you`ll have to forgive us a few things
Then we`ll be two happy little girls
And if our life is a bit sad at times
at least there will be two of us sobbing together, won`t there?
Oh sister souls that we are, wouldn`t we just mingle
Childish sweetness with our embarassed vows
To wander far from the world of adults
And forget our banishment in all our fresh innocence
Let`s be two children, two little girls
In love with nought and astonished by all
Going pale-faced down innocent tree-lined paths
Not even aware that they`ve been forgiven.
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5. |
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Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown;
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone.
I am here at the gate alone.
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown,
For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves,
On a bed of daffodil sky,
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
To faint in his light, and to die.
Come! come!
Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, is flown;
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone.
I am here at the gate alone.
I am here at the gate alone.
Queen Rose of the rosebud,
Garden of girls,
Come hither, the dances are done;
In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,
Queen, lily, and rose, in one.
Shine out little head, sunning over with curls,
To the flowers, and be their sun.
Shine out!
Shine out!
Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, is flown;
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone.
I am here at the gate alone.
I am here at the gate alone.
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6. |
Barbara Allen
05:18
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In Scarlet town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling
Made every youth cry "well aday"
Her name was Barbara Allen
Twas in the merry month of May
The green buds were a swelling
Young Willy Grove on his deathbed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen ....
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7. |
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In the deep dark of the night
I swim in the stream of my dreams
seeking for light
lurid images engage the mind
Swirling and shrinking
to purple nothingness
I swim towards the real
open my eyes
strive to make sense of what I see
Gaze at the bedroom wall
patterned with the sun
filigreed with shadows of leaves
wind shaken
and slowly
wake.
© S.N.Solomons
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8. |
The madness of Ophelia
04:36
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OPHELIA
[Sings]
They bore him barefaced on the bier;
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
And in his grave rain'd many a tear:--
Fare you well, my dove!
LAERTES
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
OPHELIA
[Sings]
You must sing a-down a-down,
An you call him a-down-a.
O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
steward, that stole his master's daughter.
LAERTES
This nothing's more than matter.
OPHELIA
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.
LAERTES
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.
OPHELIA
There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father
died: they say he made a good end,--
Sings
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
LAERTES
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour and to prettiness.
OPHELIA
[Sings]
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead:
Go to thy death-bed:
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan:
God ha' mercy on his soul!
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.
Exit
LAERTES
Do you see this, O God?
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9. |
Voyelles
02:20
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A noir, E blanc, I rouge, U vert, O bleu : voyelles,
Je dirai quelque jour vos naissances latentes :
A, noir corset velu des mouches éclatantes
Qui bombinent autour des puanteurs cruelles,
Golfes d'ombre ; E, candeur des vapeurs et des tentes,
Lances des glaciers fiers, rois blancs, frissons d'ombelles ;
I, pourpres, sang craché, rire des lèvres belles
Dans la colère ou les ivresses pénitentes ;
U, cycles, vibrements divins des mers virides,
Paix des pâtis semés d'animaux, paix des rides
Que l'alchimie imprime aux grands fronts studieux ;
O, suprême Clairon plein des strideurs étranges,
Silences traversés des Mondes et des Anges :
- O l'Oméga, rayon violet de Ses Yeux !
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10. |
Alcohol
01:37
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O, so slowly the brain starts to go
as the cells are burned out row by row
and they're never replaced
So we're certainly faced
with oblivion - the last thing we know!
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11. |
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Don't be a fool; don't go to school; don't put a foot outside.
Old Miss Oysterley is eating bubble gum
Sellotape tin-tacks and Tide.
Be like a mouse; stay in the house.
Her mouth is open wide.
Weird Miss Oysterley is drinking printer's ink,
paint and insecticide!
Don't go near the Head. Just stay in bed.
Jump in a box and hide.
Old Miss Oysterley is fond of little ones,
roasted or frittered or fried.
It's very sad she's gone quite mad.
Her brain is quite putrified.
Poor Miss Poor Miss Oysterley is munching through Infants One,
that was once her joy and her pride.
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12. |
The Swan
01:50
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This is my father's original translation from 2006 which I performed here:
Will the fair vivid virgin day
Shatter with random blow the ice
On frozen lakes of memory
Haunted by unflown flights!
Conscious of splendour that has been
Strives, apathetic and dejected,
Authentic life unhymned rejected
When winter spreads its spleen.
Casting the candid agonies
Of space that it denies,
Congealed in earth, forlorn,
Doomed to this place by genius assigned,
Fast in a frigid dream of scorn,
Cloaking a vain exile, the Swan.
© S .N. Solomons
and this is the Mallarmé original:
Le vierge, le vivace et le bel aujourd'hui ...
Le vierge, le vivace et le bel aujourd'hui
Va-t-il nous déchirer avec un coup d'aile ivre
Ce lac dur oublié que hante sous le givre
Le transparent glacier des vols qui n'ont pas fui !
Un cygne d'autrefois se souvient que c'est lui
Magnifique mais qui sans espoir se délivre
Pour n'avoir pas chanté la région où vivre
Quand du stérile hiver a resplendi l'ennui.
Tout son col secouera cette blanche agonie
Par l'espace infligée à l'oiseau qui le nie,
Mais non l'horreur du sol où le plumage est pris.
Fantôme qu'à ce lieu son pur éclat assigne,
Il s'immobilise au songe froid de mépris
Que vêt parmi l'exil inutile le Cygne.
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13. |
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The sala terrena.
a heavy chandelier,
a parade of candles
for the Allegro,
which comes
through the centuries.
Eyes closed,
the harpsichord player
fingers his keys,
a man illuminated,
illumination bursting
from art and fugue.
We sit motionless,
as if in us too a candle,
a candle were burning.
Later in the park,
black beetles scurrying,
violin cases under their arms,
townwards they walk.
Under their overcoats,
for chillier ev'nings,
their black wings show.
We walk behind them,
looking for golden bridges.
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14. |
La Cigarette
00:55
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[coughing noises]
Fumez!
Des lèvres douces
la fraîcheur du printemps
Fumez!
[coughing noises]
Blanche longue cylindrique avec filtre
[coughing noises]
Fumez!
Des lèvres rouges la chaleur d'un baiser
[coughing noise]
[coughing noises]
Smoke!
Sweet lips
the freshness of spiring
Smoke!
[coughing noises]
Long white cylinder with filter
[coughing noises]
Smoke!
Red lips, the heat of a kiss
[coughing noise]
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David Warin Solomons Sale, UK
Composer from UK born in 1953, concentrating on lyrical and tonal works for chamber music combinations, solo voice and choral works.
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