Les Chansons des Roses: No. 2. Contre Qui, Rose

Music by Morten Lauridsen
Text by Rainer Maria Rilke

Contre qui, rose,
avez-vous adopté
ces épines?
Votre joie trop fine
vous a-t-elle forcée
de devenir cette chose
armée?

Mais de qui vous protégé
cette arme exagérée?
Combien d’ennemis vous ai-je
enlevés 
qui ne la craignaient point?
Au contraire, d’été en automne,
vous blessez les soins
qu’on vous donne.

Against whom, rose,
have you assumed
these thorns?
Is it your too fragile joy
that forced you
to become this
armed thing?

But from whom does it protect you,
this exaggerated defense?
How many enemies have I
lifted from you
who did not fear it at all?
On the contrary, from summer to autumn
you wound the affection
that is given you.

As Is The Sea Marvelous

Music by Matthew Lyon Hazzard
Text by e.e. cummings

as is the sea marvelous
from god’s
hands which sent her forth
to sleep upon the world

and the earth withers
the moon crumbles
one by one
stars flutter into dust

but the sea
does not change
and she goes forth out of hands and
she returns into hands

and is with sleep....

love,
     the breaking

of your
        soul
        upon
my lips

Four Robert Burns Ballads: No. 1. A Red, Red Rose

Music by James Mulholland
Text by Robert Burns

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
   That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve’s like the melody
   That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
   So deep in luve am I;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
   Till a’ the seas gang dry.

I will love thee still, my dear,
   While the sands o’ life shall run.
Till the seas gang dry, my dear,
   And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
   So deep in luve am I;
I will come again, my luve,
   Though it were ten thousand mile.

Champa Battambang | ចំំប៉ាាបាត់់ដំំបង

Music and text by Sinn Sisamouth
Arrangement by Darita Seth

From Darita:

We find ourselves taking a glance into a community not represented within the choral community. Sinn Sisamouth is considered the “King of Khmer Music” by the Cambodian and Cambodian American community. His father was a soldier during French-colonial Cambodia and served in the French colonial province of Battambang. He taught himself traditional stringed instruments and began writing songs at an early age. After graduating at age 16, he pursued medical school to please his parents. He graduated medical school during the period when Cambodia gained its independence from France. This also the time when Sisamouth’s voice became the musical identity of Cambodia. The progression of popular music was encouraged by King Sihanouk. Sisamouth’s voice was compared to Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra’s.

Champa Battambang was the very first song to be played on Khmer Republic Television. Sisamouth disappeared during the Khmer Rouge regime. He was likely executed for being of mixed descent, educated, and an influential artist. His remains were never discovered. This song is one of his most popular titles and has proved itself to be an intergenerational gem. The original tune was written as a bolero, but this arrangement takes on a more abstract and cinematic aesthetic. The text speaks to someone leaving a loved one behind in Battambang, and how they long for their return to their homeland.

—-

ឱ​ បាត់ដំបងបណ្តូលចិត្តអើយ ខ្ញុំ​សូម​លា​ហើយ លាទាំងអាល័យ តាំង​ពី​ខ្លួន​ខ្ញុំ​បាន​ឃ្លាត​ទៅ​ឆ្ងាយ ​ខ្វល់ខ្វាយ​នឹក​ស្តាយ ​ពុំ​មាន​ពេល​ល្ហែ ។

​ឱ​ បាត់ដំបង​កង​កម្ម​វាសនា ដែល​ខ្ញុំ​ប្រាថ្នា ​គ្មាន​ពេលទំនេរ បើសិន​ជា​គូ ខ្ញុំ​ពី​បុព្វេ សូម​ឱ្យ​មាសស្នេហ៍ នឹកឃើញ​គ្រា​ដើម ។

កន្លង​យូរ​ឆ្នាំ​ចាំ​ទេ​ស្ងួន មាន​តែ​រូប​អូន​ដែល​ជា​ដង្ហើម ចំពោះ​នួនល្អង​ចិត្ត​បង​សង្ឃឹម សង្ឃឹម​ញញឹម ​ថា​បាន​ជា​គូ​​ វាសនា ។

​ឱ​!​បាត់ដំបង​ខ្ញុំ​ប៉ង​យូរហើយ តើ​ថ្ងៃ​ណា​ឡើយ ​បាន​យល់​ភ​ក្ត្រា ចិត្ត​ជ្រួលច្របល់​រាល់ថ្ងៃ​ខ្លោចផ្សារ ចង់បាន​ចំប៉ា​បាត់ដំបង​អើយ ។

Oh Battambang, core of my heart.
It was hard to say goodbye
Since the day we parted,
you are always in my thoughts

Oh Battambang, the story of my destiny,
I long for you
I found my heart there,
and may you not forget me

It has been so long, don’t you remember?
You are my source, my breath
I hope to return
and joyfully belong again

Oh Battambang, it has been too long
when will I see you again?
Every moment I think of you
My heart longs for the flowers of Battambang.

You Through Me

Music by Alex Berko
Text by Rūta Kuzmickas

From Alex:

You Through Me is a song about the Elizabeth Street Garden in SoHo, NY.

It is a story about how a physical place is linked with our experiences and memories of it. Beloved by area residents, the Elizabeth Street Garden draws over 125,000 visitors a year. In 2021, city officials announced a plan to build affordable housing on the site—a noble goal, but one that would destroy the garden. This dichotomy between who the space belongs to and what thoughts, emotions, and experiences we impress upon that place (and places in general) is at the heart of this piece. To express this concept more deeply, I chose to tell the story of the garden from the perspective of the garden itself; it observes, wonders, and at times, pleads, just as we do as humans.

—-

I look on as you walk through me
You are my memory, my spine,
tched in these slabs of stone,
These vines of tangled years.

I’ve filled the branches of my trees
With every phrase you wanted me to hear
Like lyrics for the city birds to sing—
The unsent letters you have
Folded in your sleeves

Dusk arrives to call you home
Evasive as light, as hours
We must spend apart, colors
Of these walls turned grey till dawn

And time and time in time again
I’ll wind up carried by your shoes
Along to where you land.

And time and time in time again
Each time the rain keeps you away
It’s you I wish it were instead

Where will you go, you’ve always come to me,
Where will you come to rest your weary eyes,
To set your heavy sorrows in the soft hem of my soil,
To let the weather water them to bloom

If I am formed into another frame
Leaves to brick and soil to stone
A place to rest, a place to call your home
Then I will surely never be alone

Come back to me just as you are
To sleep within your quiet room
To love and grieve and take the time you need
For who knows what tomorrow brings

Rest easy, you can always come to me
And dry off from the storm under the eaves
Take all that I can give, there is no end
To time with you if there is time again,
Time and time in time again.

Whether I am green or slate 
It’s you I wish would stay to rest
Here in my bracing arms

I Had No Time To Hate

Music by Jeffrey Derus
Text by Emily Dickinson

I had no time to Hate—
Because
The Grave would hinder Me—
And Life was not so
Ample I
Could finish—Enmity—

Nor had I time to Love—
But since
Some Industry must be—
The little Toil of Love—
I thought
Was large enough for Me—

Be Still, My Beating Heart

Music and text by Adrian Wong

Be still my beating heart.
My beating, pounding, racing, roaring heart.

“I will
trust you
hold you
care for you
comfort you
cherish you
honor you

I love you

I miss you

with my beating, pounding, racing, roaring heart.

In sickness and in health my heart
Till death did us part!”

In effect it is this: that I love you

Music by Ethan Soledad
Text by Wilfred Owen

Know that since mid-September, when you still regarded me as a tiresome little knocker on your door, I held you as Keats + Christ + Elijah + my Colonel + my father-confessor + Amenophis IV in profile.

What’s that mathematically?

In effect it is this: that I love you, dispassionately, so much, so very much, dear Fellow, that the blasting little smile you wear on reading this can’t hurt me in the least.

If you consider what the above Names have severally done for me, you will know what you are doing. And you have fixed my Life—however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but I shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze. It is some consolation to know that Jupiter himself sometimes swims out of Ken!

Kéramos (the potter’s clay)

Music by James Mulholland
Text by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Turn, turn, my wheel!  Turn round and round
Without a pause, without a sound:
  So spins the flying world away!
This clay, well mixed with marl and sand,
Follows the motion of my hand;
For some must follow, and some command,
  Though all are made of clay!

Turn, turn, my wheel!  All life is brief;
What now is bud will soon be leaf,
  What now is leaf will soon decay;
The wind blows east, the wind blows west;
The blue eggs in the robin's nest
Will soon have wings and beak and breast,
  And flutter and fly away. 

Turn, turn, my wheel! The human race,
Of every tongue, of every place,
  Caucasian, Coptic, or Malay,
All that inhabit this great earth,
Whatever be their rank or worth,
Are kindred and allied by birth.

Turn, turn, my wheel!  What is begun
At daybreak must at dark be done,
  To-morrow will be another day;
Too soon to-day be yesterday;
Behind us in our path we cast
The broken potsherds of the past,
  To-morrow will be another day;
To-morrow the hot furnace flame
Will search the heart and try the frame,
And stamp with honor or with shame
  All these vessels made of clay. 

All that inhabit this great earth,
Are kindred and allied by birth.