16 - the moon has risen.mp3

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Abbot and Chorus
The moon has risen,
The river breeze is blowing,
The Curlew River
Is flowing to the sea.
Now it is night
And time to pray.
Madwoman
I pray with the others
Under the white light
Of the cloudless moon.

Ferryman
And her prayers go straight to Heaven.
Traveller
Her prayers go to Heaven.

Ferryman and Traveller
And, O, to the numberless
Holy and glorious
Saints and martyrs,
All the company
Holy and glorious
There in the blessèd
Abode of eternal
Peacefulness, happiness.
All angels, all martyrs,
All saints, pray for us.
Christ have mercy upon us.
(The Abbot and Chorus kneel, facing the tomb.)

Abbot and Chorus
Custodes hominum psallimus Angelos,
Naturae fragili quos Pater addidit
Caelestis comites, insidiantibus
Ne succumberet hostibus.
Nam quod corruerit proditor Angelus,
Concessis merito pulsus honoribus,
Ardens invidia, pellere nititur
Quos caelo Deus advocat.

(The Ferryman and Traveller kneel, facing the tomb. The Madwoman turns from the
tomb and gazes into the distance.)

Madwoman
From the river
I hear voices,
Like souls abandoned
Curlews are calling.
“Birds of the Fenland, though you float or fly,
Wild birds, I cannot understand your cry.
Tell me, does the one I love
In this world still live?”

Ferryman, Traveller, Abbot, and Chorus
Haec custos igitur pervigil advola,
Avertens patria de tibi credita
Tam morbos animi, quam requiescere
Quidquid non sinit incolas.

(The voice of the Spirit of the Boy is heard from inside the tomb.)

Spirit and the Rest
Sanctae sit Triadi Iaus pia jugiter…
Madwoman
I thought I heard
The voice of my child.
Spirit and the Rest
Cujus perpetuo numine machina…
Madwoman
I thought I heard him.
Praying in his grave.
Spirit and the Rest
Triplex haec regitur…
Ferryman
We also heard it,
Traveller
The voice of the child
Spirit and the Rest
…cujus in omnia…
Ferryman
We shall keep silent.
Traveller
Say your prayer alone, lady.
Ferryman
Say it alone.
Abbot, Chorus and Spirit
Regnat gloria saecula.
Now to the holy Three your praise
devoutly pour…
His glorious Godhead guides and
governs evermore…
This triple fame…
…to him ascribe we all our praise…
Who reigns through everlasting days.
(All except the Madwoman withdraw from the tomb.)
Madwoman
O but if only
I might hear it,
Hear his voice once again,
The voice of my son,
Hear the voice of my son!
Spirit
Amen.
(The Spirit of the Boy appears in full view above the tomb.)
All (except the Madwoman and Spirit)
Hear his voice!
See, there is his shape!
Madwoman
Is it you, my child?
(The Spirit circles slowly round the Madwoman, who appears transformed. He returns to
the tomb.)

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Britten - Curlew River - a Parable for Church performance
Rzeka krzyczących ptaków - przypowieść przeznaczona do przedstawień kościelnych
Madwoman: Peter Pears
Ferryman: John Shirley-Quirk
Abbot: Harold Blackburn
Traveller: Bryan Drake
Voice of the Spirit: Bruce Webb

English Opera Group, Benjamin Britten, 1965/1989

"Rzeka krzyczących ptaków" Brittena jest 11. operą z 16, jakie napisał. Była pierwszym z trzech takich dramatów liturgicznych. Została napisana i przedstawiona w 1964 roku Orford Church w Suffolk i w tym samym kościele, w dwuletnich odstępach, wykonane zostały również dwa kolejne dramaty: The Burning Fiery Furnance i The Prodigal Son. Wszystkie trzy libretta napisał William Ploter, wszystkie trzy opery zrealizował scenicznie Colin Graham.

Inspiracją było japońskie przedstawienie teatru no Juro Motomasy pt. Sumidagawa, które Britten oglądał 11 lutego 1956 roku w czasie podróży do Tokio.

Libretto: Wczesnośredniowieczna Anglia. Znajdujemy się nad rzeką dzielącą dwa kraje - zachodni i wschodni, lecz dzieli ona również dusze, więc i przeprawa przez nią jak przepływaniem Styksu. Przewoźnik przyjmuje na prom pielgrzymów, podążających na drugi brzeg do świętego miejsca, którym stał się grób nieznanego chłopca. Przyjmie jeszcze Podróżnego, lecz czy dopuści Pomyloną Matkę, śpiewającą swe obłędne pieśni? Jej zachowanie jest niezrozumiałe, szalone są jej rozmowy z przelatującymi nad nią krzyczącymi Ptakami. Czym jest jej szaleństwo? Matka błądzi w poszukiwaniu uprowadzonego przez nieznanych złoczyńców 12-letniego synka. W czasie przeprawy promem z opowiadania Przewoźnika dowiadujemy się o prawdziwej historii. Mały umierający chłopiec został uprowadzony przez człowieka "bez serca i sumienia". Chłopiec był katowany i porzucony na brzegu rzeki. Jego grób stał się dla ludu miejscem świętym. Ludzie, patrząc na Pomyloną, znają już całą prawdę, ona sama poznaje ją w powolnej męce. Teraz wszyscy idą pomodlić się na grób dziecka, którego Duch ukazuje się oczom zebranych. Następuje przeistoczenie duchowe. Umysł Pomylonej traci swe szaleństwo, zostaje uleczona.

Opowieść otrzymuje ramy chorału gregoriańskiego (Te lucis ante terminum), śpiewanego przez nadchodzących, a potem odchodzących mnichów i przeora.
Wokalność utworu jest rozchwiana między surowym chorałem gregoriańskim a swobodnym prowadzeniem głosu.
Obsada: śpiewają tylko głosy męskie (również partia Pomylonej powierzona zostaje tenorowi)
Zespół instrumentalny: flet, waltornia, altówka, kontrabas, harfa, perkusja i organy.
Motyw waltorni (z altówką) zapowiada wejście Przewoźnika, kontrabas i harfa to Podróżny, flet to instrument (jej dusza, alter ego) Pomylonej, wyraża jej obłęd, krzyk Ptaków, a później towarzyszy Przemianie.
Powstała opera niepodobna do żadnej inne, "średniowieczny dramat" całkowicie nowoczesny.
Michał Bristiger [1980]

Inne pliki do pobrania z tego chomika

18 - good souls, we have shown you.mp3

Abbot Good souls, we have shown you here How in sad mischance A sign was given of God’s grace. Monks A sign of God’s grace. Abbot A vision was seen, A miracle and a mystery, At our Curlew River here. A woman was healed by prayer and grace, A woman with grief distraught. Monks With grief distraught. Abbot and Monks (exhorting the congregation) O praise our God that lifteth up The fallen, the lost, the least; The hope He gives, and His grace that heals. Abbot In hope, in peace, ends our mystery. (The Abbot moves away from the acting area, and the Monks, Acolytes, and Instrumentalists form a procession after him.) WhiteLightFestival.org All Te lucis ante terminum, Rerum Creator, poscimus, Ut pro tua clementia, Sis praesul et custodia. Procul recedant somnia, Et noctium phantasmata: Hostemque nostrum comprime, Ne polluantur corpora. Praesta, Pater piissime, Patrique compar Unice, Cum Spiritu Paraclito, Regnans per omne saeculum. Amen.

17 - go your way in peace, mother.mp3

Spirit (off) Go your way in peace, mother. The dead shall rise again And in that blessèd day We shall meet in Heaven. Abbot and Chorus Amen. Spirit God be with you all. Ferryman and Traveller Amen. Spirit God be with you, mother. Mother (now freed from her madness) Amen. Spirit Amen. (The Mother now bows her head. The Monks come forward and hide her from view. She, the Ferryman, and the Traveller resume their Monks’ habits. The Abbot comes forward and addresses the congregation.)

16 - the moon has risen.mp3

Abbot and Chorus The moon has risen, The river breeze is blowing, The Curlew River Is flowing to the sea. Now it is night And time to pray. Madwoman I pray with the others Under the white light Of the cloudless moon. Ferryman And her prayers go straight to Heaven. Traveller Her prayers go to Heaven. Ferryman and Traveller And, O, to the numberless Holy and glorious Saints and martyrs, All the company Holy and glorious There in the blessèd Abode of eternal Peacefulness, happiness. All angels, all martyrs, All saints, pray for us. Christ have mercy upon us. (The Abbot and Chorus kneel, facing the tomb.) Abbot and Chorus Custodes hominum psallimus Angelos, Naturae fragili quos Pater addidit Caelestis comites, insidiantibus Ne succumberet hostibus. Nam quod corruerit proditor Angelus, Concessis merito pulsus honoribus, Ardens invidia, pellere nititur Quos caelo Deus advocat. (The Ferryman and Traveller kneel, facing the tomb. The Madwoman turns from the tomb and gazes into the distance.) Madwoman From the river I hear voices, Like souls abandoned Curlews are calling. “Birds of the Fenland, though you float or fly, Wild birds, I cannot understand your cry. Tell me, does the one I love In this world still live?” Ferryman, Traveller, Abbot, and Chorus Haec custos igitur pervigil advola, Avertens patria de tibi credita Tam morbos animi, quam requiescere Quidquid non sinit incolas. (The voice of the Spirit of the Boy is heard from inside the tomb.) Spirit and the Rest Sanctae sit Triadi Iaus pia jugiter… Madwoman I thought I heard The voice of my child. Spirit and the Rest Cujus perpetuo numine machina… Madwoman I thought I heard him. Praying in his grave. Spirit and the Rest Triplex haec regitur… Ferryman We also heard it, Traveller The voice of the child Spirit and the Rest …cujus in omnia… Ferryman We shall keep silent. Traveller Say your prayer alone, lady. Ferryman Say it alone. Abbot, Chorus and Spirit Regnat gloria saecula. Now to the holy Three your praise devoutly pour… His glorious Godhead guides and governs evermore… This triple fame… …to him ascribe we all our praise… Who reigns through everlasting days. (All except the Madwoman withdraw from the tomb.) Madwoman O but if only I might hear it, Hear his voice once again, The voice of my son, Hear the voice of my son! Spirit Amen. (The Spirit of the Boy appears in full view above the tomb.) All (except the Madwoman and Spirit) Hear his voice! See, there is his shape! Madwoman Is it you, my child? (The Spirit circles slowly round the Madwoman, who appears transformed. He returns to the tomb.)

15 - he whose life was full of promise.mp3

Abbot and Chorus He whose life was full of promise Promised, and is gone. She who feels her life is passing, She is left alone. Left alone, and weeping: May her weeping cease! (An Acolyte tolls the bell.) Ferryman What is the use of tears? Whom can your weeping help? No, rather say a prayer That in the other world The soul of your child May rest in peace. Madwoman Cruel! Grief is too great, I cannot pray, I am struck down. Here, on the ground, All I can do is weep. Traveller This is not right. Lady, remember, All of us here May pray for your child: But your prayer is best To rejoice his young soul. Madwoman What you say is true: I’ll say a prayer For the soul of my lost child. Deafened by his silence, Roaring like the sea. (She turns and faces the tomb.)

14 - hoping, i wandered on.mp3

Madwoman (turning away from the tomb) Hoping, I wandered on, Hoping to find my son. I have come alone To the reedy land of Fens, Where all is strange to me, Only to learn In all this earth, no road Leads to my living son. Hoping, I wandered on— I have come to a grave! Did I give birth to him To have him stolen And carried far away, Here to the Eastern Fens To end as dust by the road? O, good people, open up the tomb That I may see again The shape of my child, His face, his well-belovèd face! (She claws hopelessly at the tomb, then sinks down weeping.)

13 - ferryman, tell me, when did it happen.mp3

Madwoman Ferryman, tell me, When did it happen, This story you have told us? Ferryman Last year, at this time, On this very day, a year ago. Madwoman Ferryman, how old was the boy? Ferryman I told you, he was twelve. Madwoman What was his name? Ferryman But I told you all about him! I told you what he was, And how he came here. Madwoman Ferryman, pray tell me, Tell me what his name was. Ferryman Oh how should I know? His father was a nobleman From the Black Mountains. Madwoman And since then have neither Of his parents been here? Ferryman No one of his family. Madwoman Not even his mother? Ferryman Not even his mother! Madwoman No wonder no one Came here to look for him! He was the child Sought by this madwoman. Traveller The boy was her child, The child she was seeking! He who died here Was this poor woman’s child. Ferryman Who could have dreamed it? The boy who died here! Her sad search is ended. Is ended after months of weary searching. Abbot The madwoman was his mother! Him she was seeking Was not to be found. Madwoman Am I dreaming? Is this a dream? Chorus He was her child! She has found his grave here by the river. She was his mother! She has only found sorrow! Is this a dream? Or is it true she was his mother? (The Madwoman rises.) Madwoman O Curlew river, cruel Curlew, Where all my hope is swept away! Torn from the nest, my bird, Crying in empty air. Now the nest of the curlew is silent with snow, And the lamb is devoured by the carrion crow… The innocent lamb… The heathen crow! Good people, where shall I turn? Tell me now! Take me back… Chain on my soul, let me go! (She sinks down.) O River Curlew, O curlew, cruel bird! Abbot and Chorus Here, where the Curlew Separates for ever On that side, the Land of the West, And here, the Eastern Fens. Here where the River For ever divides them Her sad search is ended. Ferryman Who would have guessed that The boy was her child? Traveller This madwoman was his mother. Ferryman Lady, I pity you! Traveller I pity you! Both We pity you! Madwoman Let me in! Let me out! Let me in! Ferryman Your sad search is ended! (The Ferryman and Traveller move to help the Madwoman out of the boat.) Ferryman Now let me show you Where the boy is buried. I beg you, Please step this way. Lady, come with me. (The Ferryman leads the Madwoman to the tomb.) This is the grave of your young child. That his young soul may rest in peace, We all can pray. May Heaven receive it! For his young soul’s repose, lady, Your prayer is best. Ferryman, Abbot and Chorus Lady, let him guide you to the tomb, The place where your wandering steps have brought you. This is the grave of your young child. That his soul may rest in peace, We all can pray. May Heaven receive it!

12 - look! while you were listening to my story.mp3

Ferryman Look! While you were listening to my story, we have reached the bank. Lower the sail! (The sail is lowered and the tomb is seen.) Ferryman Make haste there, all of you! Come, get ashore! (The Traveller, Abbot, and Chorus leave the boat and approach the tomb. The Madwoman remains in the boat.) Traveller, Abbot, and Chorus Curlew River, smoothly flowing Between the Lands of East and West, Dividing person from person. Ah, Ferryman, row your ferry boat! Bring nearer, nearer, Person to person, By chance or misfortune, Time, death or misfortune, Divided asunder! Traveller I’ll remain here today. I cannot journey on today. Though I never knew the boy I’ll offer up a prayer for him. Abbot and Chorus Though he never knew the boy He’ll offer up a prayer for him. (The Ferryman turns and looks at the weeping Madwoman.) Ferryman Come along there, you crazy soul! It’s time to land, So get out of the boat. Come along there, Get out of the boat! You must be soft-hearted To weep at my story, To weep so bitterly. Make haste there, step ashore!

11 - today is an important day.mp3

Ferryman Today is an important day, The people are assembling In memory of a sad event. I will tell you the story. It happened on this very day a year ago. There was a stranger in my boat, a Northman, a foreigner, a big man armed with a sword and a cudgel. He was on his way to take ship to the North-land. (He poles once.) And not alone. There was a boy with him, a gentle boy, twelve years old, maybe, and a Christian. The Heathen said he’d bought him as a slave. The boy said nothing. I could see he was ill. Unused to travelling rough. (He poles once.) Poor child. When we had crossed the river, he said he was too weak to walk, and down he lay on the grass near the chapel. (He poles once.) The Heathen threatened him, swore at him, struck him. He was a man without a heart, and we feared he would kill the boy, but he left the boy where he was, and went on his way. (He poles twice.) Abandoned by his master, the boy lay alone. The river people pitied him, took care of him. But he grew weaker and weaker. We asked him who he was, where he was born. “I was born,” he said, “in the Western Marches; from my pillow, when I first opened my eyes, I could see the Black Mountains. I am the only child of a nobleman. My father is dead, I have lived alone with my mother. Then, walking alone in our own fields, I was seized by that stranger. He threatened to kill me…But there was no need: I know I am dying… Please bury me here, by the path to this chapel. Then if travellers from my dear country pass this way, their shadows will fall on my grave, and plant a yew tree in memory of me.” He spoke these words calmly, like a man. Then he said a prayer: “Kyrie eleison! Kyrie eleison!” And then he died. Traveller, Abbot, and Chorus Kyrie eleison! Kyrie eleison! (The Madwoman weeps.) Ferryman The river folk believe The boy was a saint. They take earth from his grave To heal their sickness. They report many cures. The river folk believe His spirit has been seen. Traveller, Abbot, and Chorus Kyrie eleison! Kyrie eleison! Ferryman There may be some people from the West in this boat. Let them offer prayers that the soul of that boy may rest in peace. Traveller, Abbot and Chorus Kyrie eleison! Kyrie eleison! (The Ferryman steers the boat to the bank.)

10 - curlew river, smoothly flowing.mp3

Traveller, Abbot, and Chorus Curlew River, smoothly flowing Between the Lands of East and West, Dividing person from person! Ah, ferryman, Row your ferry boat, Bring nearer, nearer, Person to person, By chance or misfortune, Time, death or misfortune, Divided asunder! Traveller What are all those people Crowded on the other bank Near that yew tree? (The Ferryman stops poling.)

08 - ignorant man! you refuse a passage to me.mp3

Madwoman Ignorant man! You refuse a passage To me, a noblewoman! It ill becomes you Curlew ferryman, Such incivility. Ferryman The Black Mountain woman Uses a high-flown way of talking! Madwoman Let me remind you Of the famous traveller Who once made a riddle In this very place: “Birds of the Fenland, though you float or fly, Wild birds, I cannot understand your cry, Tell me, does the one I love In this world still live?” (The Madwoman turns, watching the flight of the birds.) Ferryman, there the wild birds float! I see the wild birds fly! What are those birds? Ferryman Those? They’re only common gulls. Madwoman Gulls you may call them! Here, by the Curlew River, Call them, I beg of you, Curlews of the Fenland.

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