Invitation to the journey for alto and guitar (mp3) by David Warin Solomons Digital Audio for Full Performance Audio at Sheet Music Direct
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Invitation to the journey for alto and guitar (mp3)
by David Warin Solomons Full Performance Audio - MP3

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S0.38255

Based on my father's translation of the poem by Baudelaire.

My sister, oh my child, think of that life so mild,
dwelling together, loving at leisure,
loving and dying and in your very land.
The brimming suns of those wan skies
evoke such spells:
charms without reason, as with the treason of eyes tear-welled.
All there is form and beauty, sensual serenity.

Soft gleaming chairs, stroked by the years
gracing our chamber and rare flowers
mingling their odour with scent of amber.
Sumptuous ceilings infinite mirrors gracing our chamber,
and subtle splendours:
all would accord secrets: sweet secrets to the soul in their own words.
And all is form and beauty, sensual ecstasy.


On the canal float and rock the boats in errant mood.
It is to soothe your every whim from far they come.
The setting sun enflames the town, the fields, canals alike, in gold and hyacinth,
while the world sinks into a warm warm light.
There all is formal beauty, calm sensuality.
© S N Solomons


Original poem by Baudelaire:

Mon enfant, ma soeur,
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.

Des meubles luisants,
Polis par les ans,
Décoreraient notre chambre;
Les plus rares fleurs
Mêlant leurs odeurs
Aux vagues senteurs de l'ambre,
Les riches plafonds,
Les miroirs profonds,
La splendeur orientale,
Tout y parlerait
A l'âme en secret
Sa douce langue natale.

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.

    Charles Baudelaire

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