Flights of hope
Instrumentation: SATB & Piano
Purchase: Contact composer directly
Duration: 12:30 (3 movements)
Language: Haitian Creole, Spanish, English
Story: When Dr. Kenneth Boos commissioned this work in 2012, he asked for a hopeful work that reflected the diversity of languages found in Miami and that honored the tremendous works of service that the Safespace Foundation performs in that community. The work has three movements, each with a text in a different language commonly spoken in Miami, all of which center around an overarching theme of hope.
Purchase: Contact composer directly
Duration: 12:30 (3 movements)
Language: Haitian Creole, Spanish, English
Story: When Dr. Kenneth Boos commissioned this work in 2012, he asked for a hopeful work that reflected the diversity of languages found in Miami and that honored the tremendous works of service that the Safespace Foundation performs in that community. The work has three movements, each with a text in a different language commonly spoken in Miami, all of which center around an overarching theme of hope.
Text and Translation:
I. Témwayaj
Nou la
Zo mémwa po zèl
Palé-m de soufranse
Yon lang san sanse
Mo tounen dlo é sèl
Tranpé-m
Pa kinbe-l andedan
Mizè ansyen sa
Pa bliyé ke-w gin vwa
Ki jwenn léspwa nan chan
Avanjou, avan tou
M-ap montré-w lakay
Mwen bati pou nou
- Yanie Fecu (used with permission)
II. ¡Torres de Dios!
¡Torres de Dios! ¡Poetas!
¡Pararrayos celestes
que resistís las duras tempestades,
como crestas escuetas,
como picos agrestes,
rompeolas de las eternidades!
La mágica esperanza anuncia un día
en que sobre la roca de armonía
expirará la pérfida sirena.
¡Esperad, esperemos todavía!
Esperad todavía.
El bestial elemento se solaza
en el odio a la sacra poesía
y se arroja baldón de raza a raza.
La insurrección de abajo
tiende a los Excelentes.
El caníbal codicia su tasajo
con roja encía y afilados dientes.
Torres, poned al pabellón sonrisa.
Poned, ante ese mal y ese recelo,
una soberbia insinuación de brisa
y una tranquilidad de mar y cielo...
- Rubén Darío
III. Hope is
Hope is the thing with feathers,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune - without the words,
And never stops at all.
And sweetest in the gale is heard*
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
- Emily Dickinson
*This line is omitted in the piece.
Nou la
Zo mémwa po zèl
Palé-m de soufranse
Yon lang san sanse
Mo tounen dlo é sèl
Tranpé-m
Pa kinbe-l andedan
Mizè ansyen sa
Pa bliyé ke-w gin vwa
Ki jwenn léspwa nan chan
Avanjou, avan tou
M-ap montré-w lakay
Mwen bati pou nou
- Yanie Fecu (used with permission)
II. ¡Torres de Dios!
¡Torres de Dios! ¡Poetas!
¡Pararrayos celestes
que resistís las duras tempestades,
como crestas escuetas,
como picos agrestes,
rompeolas de las eternidades!
La mágica esperanza anuncia un día
en que sobre la roca de armonía
expirará la pérfida sirena.
¡Esperad, esperemos todavía!
Esperad todavía.
El bestial elemento se solaza
en el odio a la sacra poesía
y se arroja baldón de raza a raza.
La insurrección de abajo
tiende a los Excelentes.
El caníbal codicia su tasajo
con roja encía y afilados dientes.
Torres, poned al pabellón sonrisa.
Poned, ante ese mal y ese recelo,
una soberbia insinuación de brisa
y una tranquilidad de mar y cielo...
- Rubén Darío
III. Hope is
Hope is the thing with feathers,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune - without the words,
And never stops at all.
And sweetest in the gale is heard*
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
- Emily Dickinson
*This line is omitted in the piece.
I. Testimony
We are here
Bone memory flesh wing
Speak to me of suffering
A senseless language
Words turned to water and salt
Drench me
Don't hold it inside
This ancient misery
Don't forget you have a voice
That finds hope in song
Before day, before all
I will show you the house
I have built for us
- Yanie Fecu (used with permission)
II. Towers of God!
Towers of God! Poets!
Celestial lightning rods,
who resist the rough tempests,
like clear crests,
like coarse peaks,
breakers of the eternities!
The magic hope announces the day
on which, upon the rock of harmony,
the perfidious siren will expire.
Hope ye, let us hope still!
Hope ye still.
The bestial element is comforted
in its hate of the sacred poetry
and hurls ignominy from race to race.
The insurrection from below
tends to the Excellents.
The cannibal envies his cut
with red gum and sharpened teeth.
Towers, put a smile upon the banner.
Put ye, before that evil and that suspicion,
a superb insinuation of gentle wind
and a tranquility of sea and sky…
- Vicente Chavarría (used with permission)
III. Hope is
Hope is the thing with feathers,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune - without the words,
And never stops at all.
And sweetest in the gale is heard*
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
- Emily Dickinson
*This line is omitted in the piece.
We are here
Bone memory flesh wing
Speak to me of suffering
A senseless language
Words turned to water and salt
Drench me
Don't hold it inside
This ancient misery
Don't forget you have a voice
That finds hope in song
Before day, before all
I will show you the house
I have built for us
- Yanie Fecu (used with permission)
II. Towers of God!
Towers of God! Poets!
Celestial lightning rods,
who resist the rough tempests,
like clear crests,
like coarse peaks,
breakers of the eternities!
The magic hope announces the day
on which, upon the rock of harmony,
the perfidious siren will expire.
Hope ye, let us hope still!
Hope ye still.
The bestial element is comforted
in its hate of the sacred poetry
and hurls ignominy from race to race.
The insurrection from below
tends to the Excellents.
The cannibal envies his cut
with red gum and sharpened teeth.
Towers, put a smile upon the banner.
Put ye, before that evil and that suspicion,
a superb insinuation of gentle wind
and a tranquility of sea and sky…
- Vicente Chavarría (used with permission)
III. Hope is
Hope is the thing with feathers,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune - without the words,
And never stops at all.
And sweetest in the gale is heard*
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
- Emily Dickinson
*This line is omitted in the piece.