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lyrics

— « Écoute ! — Écoute ! — C’est moi, c’est Ondine qui frôle de ces gouttes d’eau les losanges sonores de ta fenêtre illuminée par les mornes rayons de la lune ; et voici, en robe de moire, la dame châtelaine qui contemple à son balcon la belle nuit étoilée et le beau lac endormi.

» Chaque flot est un ondin qui nage dans le courant, chaque courant est un sentier qui serpente vers mon palais, et mon palais est bâti fluide, au fond du lac, dans le triangle du feu, de la terre et de l’air.

» Écoute ! — Écoute ! — Mon père bat l’eau coassante d’une branche d’aulne verte, et mes sœurs caressent de leurs bras d’écume les fraîches îles d’herbes, de nénuphars et de glaïeuls, ou se moquent du saule caduc et barbu qui pêche à la ligne. »

Sa chanson murmurée, elle me supplia de recevoir son anneau à mon doigt, pour être l’époux d’une Ondine, et de visiter avec elle son palais, pour être le roi des lacs.

Et comme je lui répondais que j’aimais une mortelle, boudeuse et dépitée, elle pleura quelques larmes, poussa un éclat de rire, et s’évanouit en giboulées qui ruisselèrent blanches le long de mes vitraux bleus.

......................................................

“Listen! Listen! It is I, it is Ondine who with these drops of water grazes the sonorous diamond-shaped panes of your window illuminated by the mournful rays of the moon; and here, in her gown of silk, is the lady châtelaine who from her balcony contemplates the beautiful starry night, and the beautiful sleepy lake.

“Each wave is a water sprite who swims in the current, each current is a path that meanders towards my palace, and my palace is built all of liquid, at the bottom of the lake, inside the triangle of fire, of earth and of water.

“Listen! Listen! My father beats the murmuring water with the branch of a green alder tree, and my sisters caress with their arms of foam the islands fresh with herbs, with water lilies and with gladiolus, or they make fun of the fragile and bearded willows fishing with rod and line!

Having murmured her song, she begged me to take her ring on my finger, to become the husband of an Ondine, and to visit with her at her palace, to be the king of lakes.

And as I answered her that I loved a mortal woman, who was cold and spiteful, she wept a few tears, burst into laughter, and vanished in a burst of showers that dripped down, colorless, along my blue-paned windows.

credits

from Gaspard de la Nuit (2019) for soprano and string quartet, released June 4, 2019

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Thomas Oboe Lee Cambridge, Massachusetts

Thomas Oboe Lee was born in China in 1945. He lived in São Paulo, Brazil, for six years before coming to the United States in 1966. After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh, he studied composition at the New England Conservatory and Harvard University. He has been a member of the music faculty at Boston College since 1990. ... more

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