Text and Translations Mirror Visions Ensemble

Nov. 7, 2022

The Mermaid’s Song, text by Anne Hunter
Now the dancing sunbeams play
On the green and glassy sea.
Come, and I will lead the way,
Where, the pearly treasures be.
Come with me, and we will go
Where the rocks of coral grow.
Follow, follow, follow me.
Come, behold what treasures lie
Far below the rolling waves;
Riches, hid from human eye,
Dimly shine in ocean's caves.
Ebbing tides bear no delay,
Stormy winds are far away.
Come with me, and we will go
Where the rocks of coral grow.
Follow, follow, follow me.

L’invitation au voyage, text by Charles Baudelaire
Mon enfant, ma sœur,
Songe à la douceur
D’aller là-bas vivre ensemble!
Aimer à loisir,
Aimer et mourir
Au pays qui te ressemble!
Les soleils mouillés
De ces ciels brouillés
Pour mon esprit ont les charmes
Si mystérieux
De tes traîtres yeux,
Brillant à travers leurs larmes.
Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Vois sur ces canaux
Dormir ces vaisseaux
Dont l’humeur est vagabonde;
C’est pour assouvir
Ton moindre désir
Qu’ils viennent du bout du monde.
-—Les soleils couchants
Revêtent les champs,
Les canaux, la ville entière,
D’hyacinthe et d’or;
Le monde s’endort
Dans une chaude lumière.
Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.

Invitation to journey
My child, my sister,
Think how sweet
To journey there and live together!
To love as we please,
To love and die
In the land that is like you!
The watery suns
Of those hazy skies
Hold for my spirit
The same mysterious charms
As your treacherous eyes
Shining through their tears.
There—nothing but order and beauty dwell,
Abundance, calm, and sensuous delight.
See on those canals
Those vessels sleeping,
Vessels with a restless soul;
To satisfy
Your slightest desire
They come from the ends of the earth.
The setting suns
Clothe the fields,
Canals and all the town
With hyacinth and gold;
The world falls asleep
In a warm light.
There—nothing but order and beauty dwell,
Abundance, calm, and sensuous delight.

Willkommen und Abschied, text by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Es schlug mein Herz: geschwind zu Pferde!
Es war gethan, fast eh' gedacht;
Der Abend wiegte schon die Erde,
Und an den Bergen hing die Nacht;
Schon stand im Nebelkleid die Eiche,
Ein aufgethürmter Riese, da,
Wo Finsternis aus dem Gesträuche
Mit hundert schwarzen Augen sah.
Der Mond von einem Wolkenhügel
Sah kläglich aus dem Duft hervor,
Die Winde schwangen leise Flügel,
Umsausten schauerlich mein Ohr,
Die Nacht schuf tausend Ungeheuer,
Doch frisch und fröhlich war mein Muth;
In meinen Adern welches Feuer,
In meinem Herzen welche Gluth!
Dich sah’ ich, und die milde Freude
Floss von dem süssen Blick auf mich,
Ganz war mein Herz an deiner Seite,
Und jeder Athemzug für dich.
Ein rosenfarb’nes Frühlingswetter
Umgab das liebliche Gesicht,
Und Zärtlichkeit für mich, ihr Götter!
Ich hofft' es, ich verdient' es nicht.
Doch ach, schon mit der Morgensonne
Verengt der Abschied mir das Herz:
In deinen Küssen welche Wonne!
In deinem Auge welcher Schmerz!
Ich ging, du standst und sahst zur Erden,
Und sahst mir nach mit nassem Blick,
Und doch, welch’ Glück geliebt zu werden,
Und lieben, Götter, welch’ ein Glück!

Welcome and farewell
My heart pounded. Quick, to the horse!
It happened almost before I could think;
The evening was already cradling the earth,
And night hung on the mountains:
Already the oak tree stood clothed in mist,
A towering giant there,
Where darkness, from the bushes,
Peered out with a hundred black eyes!
The moon, from a hill of clouds
Looked pitifully down through the haze,
The wind, waving low wings,
Roared round my ears,
The night created a thousand monsters,
But fresh and happy was my courage;
In my veins, what fire!
In my heart, what a glow!
I saw you, and a gentle joy
Flowed from your gaze to mine,
My whole heart went to your side,
And every breath was for you.
A rose-colored spring
Surrounded your lovely face,
And your tenderness was for me… you Gods!
I had hoped for this, but I do not deserve it!
But alas, already with the morning sun,
Parting strangles my heart:
In your kisses, what bliss!
In your eyes, what anguish!
I left, you stood there and looked at the ground,
Then looked at me with wet eyes,
And yet, to be loved, what happiness!
And to love, oh Gods, what happiness!

L’Île Inconnue, text by Théophile Gautier
Dites, la jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller ?
La voile enfle son aile,
La brise va souffler !
L'aviron est d'ivoire,
Le pavillon de moire,
Le gouvernail d'or fin;
J'ai pour lest une orange,
Pour voile une aile d'ange,
Pour mousse un séraphin.
[Dites, la jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller?
La voile enfle son aile,
La brise va souffler!]
Est-ce dans la Baltique?
Dans la mer Pacifique,
Dans l'île de Java?
Ou bien est-ce en Norvége,
Cueillir la fleur de neige,
Ou la fleur d'Angsoka ?
[Dites, dites, la jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller? ]
Menez-moi, dit la belle,
À la rive fidèle
Où l'on aime toujours!
Cette rive, ma chère,
On ne la connaît guère
Au pays des amours.
[Où voulez-vous aller?
La brise va souffler!]

The Unknown Island
Tell me, my young beauty,
where would you like to go?
The wind fills the sails
and the breeze will blow!
The oar is made of ivory,
the flag of silk,
the rudder of fine gold.
My ballast is an orange,
my sail an angel's wing,
my cabin-boy a seraph.
[Tell me, my young beauty,
where would you like to go?
The wind fills the sails
and the breeze will blow!]
To the Baltic?
To the Pacific Ocean?
To the island of Java?
Or perhaps to Norway
to pick snowdrops,
or the flower of Angsoka?
[Tell me, my young beauty,
where would you like to go?]
"Take me," said the beauty,
"to those faithful shores
where one is always in love."
"Such shores, my dear,
scarcely exist
in the land of love."
[Where would you like to go?
The breeze will blow!]

Great Barrier Reef from: A List of Wonders, Recent studies, adapted by the composer Gilda Lyons
Teeming with life
in the Coral Sea
off the coast of Queensland
in North-East Australia,
the Great Barrier Reef-
the world's largest single structure
made by living organisms-
can be seen from space.

Tale of the Oyster from: Fifty Million Frenchmen, text by Cole Porter
Down by the sea lived a lonesome oyster,
Ev'ry day getting sadder and moister.
He found his home life awf'lly wet,
And longed to travel with the upper set.
Poor little oyster.
Fate was kind to that oyster we know,
When one day the chef from the Park Casino
Saw that oyster lying there,
And said "I'll put you on my bill of fare."
Lucky little oyster.
See him on his silver platter,
Watching the queens of fashion chatter.
Hearing the wives of millionaires
Discuss their marriages and their love affairs.
Thrilled little oyster.
See that bivalve social climber
Feeding the rich Mrs. Hoggenheimer,
Think of his joy as he gaily glides
Down to the middle of her gilded insides.
Proud little oyster.
After lunch Mrs. H. complains,
And says to her hostess, "I've got such pains.
I came to town on my yacht today,
But I think I'd better hurray back to Oyster Bay."
Scared little oyster.
Off they go thru the troubled tide,
The yacht rolling madly from side to side.
They're tossed about 'til that poor young oyster
Finds that it's time he should quit his cloister,
Up comes the oyster.
Back once more where he started from,
He murmured, "I haven't a single qualm,
For I've had a taste of society,
And society has had a taste of me."
Wise little oyster.

Youkali, text by Roger Fernay
C'est presque au bout du monde
Ma barque vagabonde
Errant au gré de l'onde
M'y conduisit un jour
L'île est toute petite
Mais la fée qui l'habite
Gentiment nous invite
A en faire le tour
Youkali, c'est le pays de nos désirs
Youkali, c'est le bonheur, c'est le plaisir
Youkali, c'est la terre où l'on quitte tous les soucis
C'est dans notre nuit
Comme une éclaircie
L'etoile qu'on sui,
C'est Youkali!
Youkali, c'est le respect de tous les voeux échangés
Youkali, c'est le pays des beaux amours partagés
C'est l'espérance
Qui est au coeur de tous les humains
La déliverance
Que nous attendons tous pour demain
Youkali, c'est le pays de nos désirs
Youkali, c'est le bonheur, c'est le plaisir
Mais c'est un rêve, une folie
Il n'y a pas de Youkali!
Mais c'est un rêve, une folie
Il n'y a pas de Youkali!
Et la vie nous entraîne
La sente quotidienne
Mais la pauvre âme humaine
Cherchant partout l'oubli
A pour quitter la terre
Su trouver la mystère
Où nos rêves se terrent
En quelque Youkali
Youkali, c'est le pays de nos désirs
Youkali, c'est le bonheur, c'est le plaisir
Youkali, c'est la terre où l'on quitte tous les soucis
C'est dans notre nuit
Comme un éclaircie
L'étoile qu'on suit
C'est Youkali!
Mais c'est un rêve, une folie
Il n'y a pas de Youkali!
Mais c'est un rêve, une folie
Il n'y a pas de Youkali!

Youkali
It was almost to the end of the world
That my vagabond boat,
Wandering at the mercy of the waves
Led us one day
To a tiny isle
But the fairy that lived there
Kindly invited us
To stroll around.
Youkali, the land of our desires
Youkali, it is happiness and pleasure
Youkali, the land where we take leave of our worries
It is in our night
Like a bright flash
The star we follow
It is Youkali!
Youkali, it is respect for all the vows exchanged
Youkali, it is the land where true love is shared
It is the hope
which is in every human heart
The deliverance
Which we await on the morrow
Youkali, the land of our desires
Youkali, it is happiness and pleasure
But it is a dream, a folly
There is no Youkali!
But it is a dream, a folly
There is no Youkali!
And life carries us along
Tediously, day by day
But the poor human spirit
Seeks forgetfulness everywhere
Attempts to escape the world
In order to find the mystery
Within our dreams
In some Youkali.
Youkali, the land of our desires
Youkali, it is happiness and pleasure
Youkali, the land where we take leave of our worries
It is in our night
Like a bright flash
The star we follow
It is Youkali!
But it is a dream, a folly
There is no Youkali!
But it is a dream, a folly
There is no Youkali!

Per Valli, per boschi, text by Pietro Metastasio
Per Valli, per boschi cercando di Nice
Sol l’eco mi dice che Nice non v’e
Dimando di lei ogn’aura tacendo
Ogn’aura piangendo sen passa da me
Ogn’aura tacendo sen passa da me
Per valli per boschi cercando di Nice
Sol l’eco mi dice che Nica non v’è.
Non v’è, no, no, Non v’è, no, no.

Through Valley, Through Forest
Through forest and valley, searching for Nice,
The lonely echo tells me – Nice is not there.
I ask every silent breeze about her,
Every passing weeping breeze,
Every passing silent breeze.
Through forest and valley, searching for Nice,
Only the echo tells me – Nice is not there.
Not there, no, no, not there, no, no.

He’s Goin’ Away, traditional text, arr. Katherine K. Davis
I’m goin’ away for to stay a little while,
But I’m comin’ back if I go ten thousand miles.
Oh, who will tie your shoes?
And who will glove your hands?
And who will kiss your ruby lips when I am gone?
Oh, it’s pappy’ll tie my shoes,
And mammy’ll glove my hands,
And you will kiss my ruby lips when you come back!
Oh, he’s gone, he’s gone away,
For to stay a little while;
But he’s comin’ back if he goes ten thousand miles.
Look away, look away, look away over Yandro
On Yandro’s high hill, where them white doves are flyin’
From bough to bough and a-matin’ with their mates,
So why not me with mine?
For he’s gone, oh he’s gone away
For to stay a little while,
But he’s comin’ back if he goes ten thousand miles.

Weg der Liebe, text by Johann Gottfried von Herder, trans. from the original English by Thomas Percy
Über die Berge,
Über die Wellen,
Unter den Gräbern,
Unter den Quellen,
Über Fluten und Seen
In der Abgründe Steg,
Über Felsen, über Höhen,
Find't Liebe den Weg.
In Ritzen, in Falten,
Wo der Feu'rwurm nicht liegt,
In Höhlen, in Spalten,
Wo die Fliege nicht kriecht,
Wo Mücken nicht fliegen
Und schlüpfen hinweg,
Kommt Liebe, sie wird siegen
Und finden den Weg!
Sprecht, Amor sei nimmer
Zu fürchten, das Kind!
Lacht über ihn immer,
Als Flüchtling, als blind,
Und schließt ihn durch Riegel
Vom Tag'licht hinweg:
Durch Schlösser und Siegel
Find't Liebe den Weg.
Wenn Phönix und Adler
Sich unter euch beugt,
Wenn Drache, wenn Tiger
Gefällig sich neigt,
Die Löwin läßt kriegen
Den Raub sich hinweg,
Kommt Liebe, sie wird siegen
Und finden den Weg.

Love's Pathway
Over the mountains,
over the waves,
under the tombstones,
under springs,
over floods and seas,
on a path through the abyss,
over rocks, over heights,
Love will find the way.
In crevices, in crannies,
where the glowworm cannot lie,
in cavities, in cracks
where a fly cannot crawl,
where gnats cannot fly
and expect to escape—
Love will come, it will triumph
and discover the way!
Declare, Cupid is never
to be feared, the child!
You may deride him constantly
as a fugitive, as blind,
and lock him away
from daylight behind bars:
through locks and seals,
Love will find the way.
Though phoenix and eagle
may bend to your will,
though dragon, though tiger
may bow down obligingly,
the lioness may allow you
to carry away her prey,
Love will come, it will triumph, and discover the way!

Letters to Isabella

I. Letter from Henry James
November, 1899
Dear wild and wandering friend,
Here is an intensely legible statement of your needful proceeding at Dover on the arrival, at the nominal 2.30 of your boat from Calais. It will consist simply of your looking out for me, as hard as possible — if not as soft! — from the deck of the vessel. I shall be on the dock to meet you, penetrating with eagle eye the densest crowd: so that, after all, your looks won’t so much matter. I shall try to have mine of the best. I shall await you, in other words — reach out the friendliest of hands to you as you step, de votre pied léger, from the plank. The rest is silence. You will have nothing whatever more to do but what I mildly but firmly bid you. If you only mind what I tell you, all will still be well. We shall combine convenient promptitude with convenient deliberation and reach Rye in time for tea and tartines. Be therefore at peace — and keep your powder dry. I wish you as smooth and swift and simple a business of it, all through, as may be possible to so complex an organism. The weather here is lovely now and the Channel a summer sea — which I trust we shall still profit by. Thursday then, I repeat, on the Dover pier at 2.30.
Yours more than ever impatiently,
Henry James

II. Letter from Kakuzo Okakura
Tokyo, October Four
Dear Kotchan,
Ages have passed — are you changed any? Swans sailing a crossed the ocean have brought tidings of your whereabouts and I am glad that fate has dealt kindly with you. When you left I have felt the loss deeply — My breast has missed your nightly tread, the table was suddenly large without your prowling presence. Even now I write with your picture before me. You have killed all the cats in the world for you are alone, — the only one dear to me. Have you caught your first mice yet? Did he taste nice? Perhaps you enjoy chasing squirrels; there is great pleasure in the quest of the unattainable. You and I know that wonder is the secret of bliss and that with reason comes the death of the beautiful. I hope you that have not made the acquaintance of the feline feminine — treacherous things who pretend to understand you and have only claws to match their eyes. Be cautious of forming friendship with tomcats — even of the best sort. They can teach only what they acquired through pain; you must learn all through the gate of gladness. Be courageous, for bravery is the key into life. Never be ashamed of yourself — Think of your high lineage and under whose protection you were brought to me — Kochan! are you lonesome? Loneliness is the lot of many worthier than you or me –
With best greetings
Your friend Kakuzo
I am sending you a small parcel of Japanese Catnip – and hope that it may agree with you.

III. Letter from Isabella to Bernard Berenson
July nineteenth, eighteen ninety six.
Dear Berenson,
When comes my Titian, my Rape of Europa? I am feverish about it. Do come over, just to unpack her and set her up in her new shrine! Do! August twenty fifth, She has come!! Europa has come! She has come! She has come!! I was just cabling you to ask what could be the matter, when she arrived, safe and sound. She is now in place. I have no words! I am too excited to talk.
September nineteenth,
Dear Berenson,
I am breathless about Europa, even yet! I am back here tonight after a two days’ orgy. The orgy was drinking myself drunk with Europa, thinking and dreaming about her. Mister Shaw, Mister Hooper, Doctor Bigelow, and many painters have dropped before her. Many came with “grave doubts”; many came to scoff; but all wallowed at her feet. One painter, a general skeptic, couldn’t speak for the tears! all of joy!!!
Sincerely yours,
Isabella S. Gardner

IV. Stairway of Jade, Poem by Kakuzo Okakura
The One
Alone and white.
Shadows but wander
In the lights that were;
Lights but linger
In the shadows to be.
The Moon
White and alone.
The stars have dissolved
To make a crystal night;
Fragrance floats
Unseen by flowers;
Echoes waft,
Half answered by darkness.
A shadow glides
On the stairway of jade -
Is it a moonbeam?
Is it the One?
In the Abode of Solitary Shadow?

Solitary Hotel, text by James Joyce
Solitary hotel in mountain pass.
Autumn. Twilight. Fire lit.
In dark corner young man seated.
Young woman enters.
Restless. Solitary. She sits.
She goes to window. She stands.
She sits. Twilight. She thinks.
On solitary hotel-paper she writes.
She thinks. She writes. She sighs.
Wheels and hoofs. She hurries out.
He comes from his dark corner.
He seizes solitary paper.
He holds it towards fire.
Twilight. He reads. Solitary.
What? In sloping, upright and backhands.
Queen's hotel, Queen's hotel, Queen's ho-...

Hôtel from: Banalités, text by Guillaume Apollinaire
Ma chambre a la forme d'une cage
Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre
Mais moi qui veux fumer
Pour faire des mirages
J'allume au feu du jour ma cigarette
Je ne veux pas travailler
Je veux fumer.

Hotel
My room is shaped like a cage
the sun puts its arm through the window
but I who would like to smoke
to make smoke pictures
I light at the fire of day my cigarette
I do not want to work
I want to smoke.

At the Windermere Hotel, from: Chicago Nightmares, text by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Well, this is a hard-luck letter, so I'll just keep on, and tell you about the Windermere Hotel, which is the God-damndest place I ever set an unwary foot in.
You know, it advertises itself as “Chicago's Most Home-like Hotel.”
Well, that's so.
It's so home-like that if you want a cup of coffee, you have to go down to the kitchen and make it yourself.
Room service, please!
Do you want it from the East or from the West?
What?
How do I know, I'm a stranger here, I just want a cup of coffee I don't care where it comes from.
Some people want it from the East. But of course it has to come through the tunnel then, it's likely to get cold.
Well that settles that. I don't want it cold. So send it from the West.
Hello! Hello! Operator, give me the West Room Service, please.
There is no West Room Service.
Well then, what am I to do? I want a cup of coffee. They told me.
Room service.
Hello, Hello, Hello. This is Room Two Hundred Seventy Five West. Will you kindly wake an order for breakfast?
Room service! This is the East. Do you want it from the East?
I don't know. I don't care. I'm dying for a cup of coffee. Will you send up at once a pot of coffee, and half of a grapefruit and some Kellogg's Bran?
Operator, please will you give me the porter? I want to inquire about trains.
Madam, did you give in an order for breakfast to the East?
I did. I did. I did.
Well, I'll give you to the West.
No! I don't want the West. I've got it all fixed up with the East. The East and I understand each other perfectly. Operator, Operator, Operator, Operator, Operator.
Kitchen speaking!
Is this the East or the West? This is the West.
I've already given my order to the East.
Is this Room Two Seventy Five?
Yes. Madame, you're in the West.
God help me, I'm in the Mid-west!

Deux escargots qui vont a l’enterrement, text by Jacques Prévert
A l'enterrement d'une feuille morte
Deux escargots s'en vont
Ils ont la coquille noire
Du crêpe autour des cornes
Ils s'en vont dans le noir
Un très beau soir d'automne
Hélas quand ils arrivent c'est déjà le printemps
Les feuilles qui étaient mortes
Sont toutes ressuscitées
Et les deux escargots sont très désappointés
Mais voilà le soleil
Le soleil qui leur dit
Prenez prenez la peine
La peine de vous asseoir
Prenez un verre de bière
Si le coeur vous en dit
Prenez si ça vous plaît l'autocar pour Paris
Il partira ce soir vous verrez du pays
Mais ne prenez pas le deuil
C'est moi qui vous le dis
Ça noircit le blanc de l'oeil
Et puis ça enlaidit les histoires de cercueils
C'est triste et pas joli
Reprenez vos couleurs
Les couleurs de la vie
Alors toutes les bêtes les arbres et les plantes
Se mettent à chanter
A chanter à tue-tête
La vraie chanson vivante
La chanson de l'été
Et tout le monde de boire
Tout le monde de trinquer
C'est un très joli soir
Un joli soir d'été
Et les deux escargots
S'en retournent chez eux
Ils s'en vont très émus
Ils s'en vont très heureux
Comme ils ont beaucoup bu
Ils titubent un petit peu
Mais là-haut dans le ciel
La lune veille sur eux.

Two Snails on their Way to a Funeral
Two snails went
to the burial of a dead leaf.
They had black shells
with crêpe on the horns.
They left in the evening,
a beautiful evening in autumn.
But when they arrived, it was already spring.
The leaves which were dead
were all resurrected,
and the two snails were very disappointed.
But then the sun
-- it was the sun which said to them,
"Take, oh take the sorrow,
the grief that weighs on you....
Take a glass of beer,
if the heart says so to you;
if you wish take the bus to Paris.
It leaves tonight.
But do not take the grief.
It is I who says this to you.
That blackens the white of the eye
and then spoils the tales of the coffins.
It is sad and not happy.
Take back your colors,
the colors of life"
And then all the beasts, the trees and plants
began to sing
to themselves
the true songs of spring.
And all had something to drink
and toast.
It is a very beautiful evening,
a beautiful evening in summer,
and the two snails
returned home.
They went warmed
and happily,
because they had drunk much.
They staggered a little.
But high above in the heavens
-- the old moon was over them.

Goodbye, My Love / Journey On, from Ragtime, text by Lynn Ahrens
Goodbye my love.
God bless you.
And I suppose,
Bless America, too.
You have places to discover,
Oceans to conquer,
You need to know
I'll be there at the window
While you go on your way.
I accept that.
But, what of the people
Who stay where they're out,
Planted like flowers
with roots underfoot.
I know some of those people
Have hearts that would rather
Go Journeying
On the sea.
Tell me,
What of the people
Whose boundaries chafe,
Who marry so bravely
And end up so safe.
Tell me how to be someone
Whose heart can explore
While still staying here.
Let this be the year
We both travel...
Goodbye, my love
Journey on.