Benjamin Britten - Songs from the Chinese, Op. 58 [Score Video] скачать в хорошем качестве

Benjamin Britten - Songs from the Chinese, Op. 58 [Score Video]

Texts translated by Arthur Waley. Karim Sulayman, tenor Sean Shibe, guitar 0:00 1. The Big Chariot 2:00 2. The Old Lute 4:47 3. The Autumn Wind 6:12 4. The Herd-Boy 7:42 5. Depression 9:48 6. Dance Song 'The Big Chariot' Don’t help -- on the big chariot; You will only make yourself dusty. Don’t think about the sorrows of the world; You will only make yourself wretched. Don’t help -- on the big chariot; You won’t be able to see for dust. Don’t think about the sorrows of the world; Or you will never escape from your despair. Don’t help -- on the big chariot; You’ll be stifled with dust. Don’t think about the sorrows of the world; You will only load yourself with care. 'The Old Lute' Of cord and cassia-wood is the lute compounded; Within it lie ancient melodies. Ancient melodies weak and savourless, Not appealing to present men’s taste. Light and colour are faded from the jade stops; Dust has covered the rose-red strings. Decay and ruin came to it long ago, But the sound that is left is still cold and clear. I do not refuse to play it, if you want me to; But even if I play people will not listen. How did it come to be neglected so? Because of the Ch’iang flute and the zithern of Ch’in. 'The Autumn Wind' Autumn wind rises; white clouds fly. Grass and trees wither; geese go south. Orchids all in bloom; chrysanthemums smell sweet. I think of my lovely lady; I never can forget. Floating pagoda boat crosses Fen river; Across the mid-stream white waves rise. Flute and drum keep time [to the sound of the sower's song]1; Amidst revel and feasting sad thoughts come -- Youth's years how few, age how sure. 'The Herd-Boy' In the southern village the boy who minds the ox With his naked feet stands on the ox’s back. Through the hole in his coat the river wind blows; Through his broken hat the mountain rain pours. On the long dyke he seemed to be far away; In the narrow lane suddenly we were face to face. The boy is home and the ox is back in its stall; And a dark smoke oozes through the thatched roof. 'Depression' Turned to jade are the boy’s rosy cheeks; To his sick temples the frost of winter clings. Do not wonder that my body sinks to decay; Though my limbs are old, my heart is older yet. 'Dance Song' The unicorn’s hoofs! The unicorn’s hoofs! The duke’s sons throng, the duke’s sons throng. Alas for the unicorn! Alas for the unicorn! Alas! The unicorn’s brow! The unicorn’s brow! The duke’s kinsmen throng. The duke’s kinsmen throng. Alas for the unicorn! Alas for the unicorn! Alas! The unicorn’s horn! The unicorn’s horn! The unicorn’s horn! The duke’s clans-men throng. The duke’s clans-men throng. Alas for the unicorn! Alas!