Sharawadgi (Gracious disorder) - Bird, Peter

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"A cantata of 5 choral songs, accompanied by piano and flute. Total length about 18 minutes."

⌛ Period → Contemporary ◈ Genre → Cantatas

♯ Key A minor

⁄ Time Signature 6/8

♬ Voicing → SATB

◆ Difficulty

Intermediate

↕ Range B1 – E6

♩ Tempo adagietto (66)

◷ Duration ~16 min 47 sec

¶ Language → English

Measures 427

Texture Homophonic

Parts 7

Instruments Piano and flute

Pages 55

CPDL # 49151

Editor Peter Bird

Posted 2018-03-25

License Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike

♫Pitch Ranges

SOPRANO

B-3 – A5

ALTO

G3 – D5

TENOR

C3 – G4

BASS

D2 – E4

Flute

C4 – E6

PIANO

B1 – G4

¶Lyrics / Text

1. '''Daoist song''' (Chi K’ang, 223-262 AD; tr. Arthur Waley [1918]) I will cast out Wisdom and reject Learning. ''My thoughts shall wander in the Great Void.'' Always repenting of wrongs done will never bring my heart to rest. I cast my hook into a single stream, but joy as if I owned the land! I will loose’ my hair and go singing; to the four frontiers all join my song. This is the message of my tune: ''“My thoughts shall wander in the Great Void.”'' 2. '''Parting from Su Wu''' (Li Ling, d. 74 AD; tr. Arthur Waley [1918]) This special time will never come again. In moments now—our parting will be over. Anxiously—we halt at the road-side. Hesitating—embrace where fields begin. The clouds above are floating ‘cross the sky; they swiftly, swiftly pass; or blend as one. The waves of wind are drifting out of place; they roll away, each to a different Heaven. And so with us—so long to be apart! So, let us stop again a little while. If I could ride on wings of morning wind I’d go with you, unto your journey’s end. <b>3. Old poem</b> (anonymous, 1st c. BC?; tr. Arthur Waley [1918]) At fifteen I went with the army. At fourscore I came back. On the way I met a man from the village; I asked him who was left at home. “That, over there, is your house, all covered over with trees and brush.” Rabbits ran in at the dog-hole; Pheasants flew down from the roofbeams. In the courtyard was wild grain, and by the well, some wild mallows. I’ll boil the grain to make a porridge. I’ll pluck the mallows to make soup. Soup and porridge are both cooked, but no one’s here to eat them with. I went out and looked to the east, while tears fell and wet my clothes. <b>4. Sailing homeward</b> (Chan Fang-sheng, 4th c. AD; tr. Arthur Waley [1918]) Cliffs that rise a thousand feet without a break; Lakes that stretch a hundred miles without a wave; Sands are white through all the year, without a stain; Pine woods, winter and summer ever-green; Streams that forever flow and fl