A branch from the garden of my memory

Yay!
One grad school visit later, I return to posting. The piece that has been on my heart since yesterday is what I think will be the second of a triptych of a capella choral works. The first piece burst from me over 3 days in July, and I've been sitting on it since then.

I started the second piece while I was temporarily living in Overland Park. Unfortunately, most of my possessions are still in boxes, and I have yet to find the revised version. All I have is a rough, early version, which is enough to begin resurrecting the piece from the garden of my memory. When I played through it, there were chords that I had "already fixed" or shaped and melodies I had already developed. Not to wax philosophical, but maybe that's like so many aspects of life. There is a need to revisit aspects that we thought we smoothed out that are still rough and jagged.

My space and systems are still NOT conducive to optimal productivity, which is enough to make me pull my hair out at times!!! I have so many good things that are in haphazardly arranged in piles and scribbled on scraps of paper. AH!
It might not be flowing smoothly until February (hopefully not though).

On to more interesting topics - here is the poem for piece number 2. I will most likely adapt the text. There is also a gamble here: hopefully the estate of Pablo Neruda will allow me to use this poem. Through a series of email conversations, I have the contact information for people in Spain who can supposedly give me permission. There isn't an email address though. Ugh. So, once I set this beauty, I'll worry about letters and international phone calls. This piece is not just an exercise for me (I want it to live!), but in this case, I think writing the music and then worrying about intellectual property permission is the way to go.

Enjoy!
~megs

The Stolen Branch
By Pablo Neruda

In the night we shall go in
to steal
a flowering branch

We shall climb over the wall
in the darkness of the alien garden,
two shadows in the shadow.

Winter is not yet gone,
and the apple tree appears
suddenly changed
into a cascade of fragrant stars.

In the night we shall go in
up to its trembling firmament,
and your little hands and mine
will steal the stars.

And silently,
to our house,
in the night and the shadow,
with your steps will enter
perfume's silent step
and with starry feet
the clear body of spring.


A painting with a title inspired by the poem.
http://www.artatease.com/Paintings/Blowups/Paintings_AFloweringBranch.htm