Song

Writing about singing - or any other form of art - is always an interesting challenge, and one that's on my mind thanks to Elizabeth Kostova's "The Swan Thieves" (excellent novel) and the prospect of a weekend singing Faure's Requiem. This is from a couple of years ago - either my first or second effort at doing so. It can hardly be called understated, but I think it still manages to convey something of why I want to sing Elgar's "The Snow" just one more time.
Incidentally, the formatting was once a little more exciting, but Blogger does not appear to believe in either poetic off-setting or the tab key. And I'm not arguing.

Song

Pianissimo

We begin.

A long sustained note; a perfect third;

Each of us with our own concerns.

I’ve lost my keys; I’ve lost my way;

I’ve had my chance – I have no more –

I’m waiting on tomorrow’s world;

I’m ill; I’m hurt; I’m tired; I’m bored;

I’ve loved and now I’m torn apart…

These whispers of our unquiet hearts

I wonder what he’s going to say?

We are but notes the piano plays.

Crescendo – jump a major fifth –

And down the tone I never can hear –

And rise again –

And don’t go sharp –

And onwards, forwards, into the heart,

And now we let our voices rise

And let the music now hold sway

In harmony, it shows the way

To reach beyond – to touch the light

And now the song bursts from our throats

And now our hearts are opened wide

To hear the Word which sings of life

To hear the Song, beyond the notes

Oh onwards, onwards, draw us on

Into the ever-flowing flow

And let us fall, and let us grow,

One thought, one heart, one voice, one song.

Diminuendo –

soft soft, come down -

The ebb and flow of melody

Ends on a heartfelt sigh.

As the violin plays triplets

The final note is sung

Diminuendo – soft, my love,

We end where we begun.