Dear all, the holiday days are coming to an end, but I still have time to send you a second musical postcard. I must tell you that, whereas I chose the first one straight away because I knew exactly what I wanted, the second has been much harder to find. I had to rummage quite a bit through the display, but in the end I found a postcard that I think will surprise and delight you: Pourquoi vois-je pâlir la rose parfumée, by Guy Ropartz.
You probably don’t know the composer, and that’s perfectly normal, because he isn’t widely disseminated. But, as you know, there isn’t much space to write on a postcard. So for now, let’s have a small taste of one of the Quatre poèmes d’après l’Intermezzo by Heine (1899) –the second one– in a top-class performance: José van Dam and Marciej Pikulski.
The French version of all four poems is by Pierre-René Hirsch, and it must be said that they are rather free versions. The translation I’m giving you is of Heine’s original poem, Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass, and I hope it will be enough to grasp the meaning of the verses.
I’m making a mental note (I don’t have my notebook here) of two things: to introduce the composer Guy Ropartz properly, and to add this song to the page Same poem, another song, because we have already heard this poem in the versions by Fanny Mendelssohn and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.
Greetings from…
Pourquoi vois-je pâlir la rose parfumée?
Dis-moi, dis-moi, ma bien-aimée,
Dis-moi pourquoi!
Pourquoi, dans le gazon touffu, les violettes,
Si fraîches d'habitude, ont-elles aujourd'hui
Un air d'ennui?
Pourquoi le chant des alouettes
Si nostalgiquement meurt-il par les chemins?
Pourquoi s'exhale-t-il des bosquets de jasmins
La funéraire odeur qui sort des cassolettes?
Pourquoi, semblable au feu suprême d'un flambeau
Qui s'éteint, le soleil à l'horizon sans borne
Jette-t-il un éclat moins ardent et moins beau?
Pourquoi la terre entière est-elle grise et morne
Comme un tombeau?
Pourquoi suis-je si las, si triste et si malade?
Ma chère bien-aimée oh! dis-le, dis-le moi,
Si tu, trouves encore un mot qui persuade,
Dis-moi pourquoi tu m'as abandonné?
Pourquoi?
Why are the roses so pale?
o speak, my love, why?
Why in the green grass
are the blue violets so silent?
Why with such a lamenting voice
does the lark sing in the sky?
Why from the balsam weed does there rise
the scent of wilting blossoms?
Why does the sun shine down on the meadow,
so coldly and morosely?
Why is the earth so gray
and desolate like a grave?
Why am I myself so ill and dull?
My lovely darling speak,
O speak, my heart's most beloved love,
why have you abandoned me?
(translation by Emily Ezust)
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Greetings from... (V)
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I always try to pick a song that gives you a clue about the place; it was difficult other years, but this time there was plenty to choose from, because it caught the attention of many writers of the Romanticism (i fact, of many artists of every time). For example, Irish poet Thomas Moore dedicated some poems to the city after visiting it in 1819.
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You may be surprised to find here Anton Bruckner; He's not a composer we associate with Art Song, but he wrote a few lieder, about twenty, in addition to the symphonies, masses and motets with which we related him.
