Here's a before and after (still a work in progress...) pic of the living room to the new place. The big furniture is being moved tomorrow... Everything here was hauled in the back of a Ford Focus & a Honda CRV !
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The New House
Here's a before and after (still a work in progress...) pic of the living room to the new place. The big furniture is being moved tomorrow... Everything here was hauled in the back of a Ford Focus & a Honda CRV !
Saturday, June 20, 2009
"Hoodoo" performed by the kids at Prelude Chamber Music Camp
June 19, 2009: Vernon Humbert conducts the Camp's PRIMO ORCHESTRA in the first ever performance of Hoodoo -- Great job, especially considering that the mostly middle and high school students played this after only 3-4 brief rehearsals, on top of all their other camp activities!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Beginner's Guide to XHTML (ne HTML)
The brief (but pretty thorough, imho) introduction to basic HTML coding is available online: Ed's Guide to Beginning XHTML. It's a free online tutorial that at least can get you started (if anybody's still interested with all th wysiwyg page builders available...)
The thing is, most of the page builders will let you edit the html code so you can include things they don't have buttons for. If you know how.
Although it dates from a 2003 workshop for Jacksonville Public Library staff, the coding information is still current (despite some side references to Netscape browsers and IE6).
https://sites.google.com/site/edswebref/
https://sites.google.com/site/edswebref/
Friday, June 12, 2009
An English translation & versification of Théophile Gautier's 'Absence,' from Berlioz's "Les nuits d'ete"
CLICK HERE for the entire set of six poems
Revisions to the original translation (below) will be found at the above link.
| IV. Absence Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée! Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée Loin de ton sourire vermeil. Entre nos coeurs quelle distance! Tant d'espace entre nos baisers! Ô sort amer! ô dure absence! Ô grands désirs inapaisés! Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée! Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée Loin de ton sourire vermeil. D'ici 1à-bas, que de campagnes, Que de villes et de hameaux, Que de vallons et de montagnes, A lasser le pied des chevaux! Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée! Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée Loin de ton sourire vermeil. | IV. Absence Return, return, my own belovéd! As closes the sun-lorn posy, Thus has my life's flower been closéd Sans thy smiling lips, e'er rosy. CONTINUED HERE |
Thursday, June 11, 2009
English translation/versification of Théophile Gautier's 'Sur les Lagunes' (from Berlioz's 'Les nuits d'été')
CLICK HERE for the entire set of six poems
One more translation to go after this one; the other four already finished are here and here. English version ©2009, E. Lein (please notify and credit if quoting)
| III. Sur les lagunes. Lamento | III. On the Lagoons. Lament. |
| Ma belle amie est morte: Je pleurerai toujours; Sous la tombe elle emporte Mon âme et mes amours. Dans le ciel, sans m'attendre Elle s'en retourna; L'ange qui l'emmena Ne voulut pas me prendre. Que mon sort est amer! Ah! sans amour, s'en aller sur la mer! | My belovéd is dead: Evermore will I weep; Within her graveyard bed My soul, my love she’ll keep. Heav’n-bound without me, she Hath there return’d once more; But th' angel who her bore, Alas, would not bear me. My bitter destiny! Ah! Without love, to go once more to sea! |
| La blanche créature Est couchée au cerceuil. Comme dans la nature Tout me paraît en deuil! La colombe oubliée Pleure et songe à l'absent; Mon âme pleure et sent Qu'elle est dépareillée. Que mon sort est amer! Ah! sans amour, s'en aller sur la mer! | CONTINUED HERE |
| Sur moi la nuit immense S'étend comme un linceul; Je chante ma romance Que le ciel entend seul. Ah! comme elle était belle Et comme je l'aimais! Je n'aimerai jamais Une femme autant qu'elle. Que mon sort est amer! Ah! sans amour, s'en aller sur la mer! |
Sunday, June 7, 2009
English translation of Theophile Gautier's 'Au cimetière' (from Berlioz's 'Les nuits d’ été')
I translated/versified three of the songs from Les nuits d’ été for a recent concert at the Library. Here's another of the poems in an English version by me. Note that this is meant to be a poetical rendering of the text, adapting Gautier's poetic scheme and the conventions of the time (Berlioz wrote his songs in 1847) as best I could -- but this is not at all meant as a "singable" version to fit Berlioz's music. (And I must say that this text leant itself less easily to an English rendering than the first three I did ...)
The 1st, 3rd and last verses of the poem were also set by Henri Duparc in his song, Lamento.
This English version (©2009, E. Lein) may be freely used for nonprofit educational purposes such as student recitals, but please give credit and let me know!
At the Cemetery : Moonlight
[Lament]
Connaissez-vous la blanche tombe,
Où flotte avec un son plaintif
L'ombre d'un if?
Sur l'if une pâle colombe,
Triste et seule au soleil couchant,
Chante son chant:
Knowest thou the tomb of white
Whither wafts the sound of sorrow
Neath th' yew's shadow?
Upon the yew a pale dove lights;
Sad and lone, to the western sun
He sings his song:
Un air maladivement tendre,
À la fois charmant et fatal,
Qui vous fait mal
Et qu'on voudrait toujours entendre;
Un air comme en soupire aux cieux
L'ange amoureux.
CONTINUED HERE
On dirait que l'âme éveillée
Pleure sous terre à l'unisson
De la chanson,
Et du malheur d'être oubliée
Se plaint dans un roucoulement
Bien doucement.
Sur les ailes de la musique
On sent lentement revenir
Un souvenir.
Une ombre, une forme angélique,
Passe dans un rayon tremblant,
En voile blanc.
Les belles de nuit demicloses
Jettent leur parfum faible
et doux
Autour de vous,
Et le fantôme aux molles poses
Murmure en vous tendant les bras:
Tu reviendras!
Oh! jamais plus près de la tombe,
Je n'irai, quand descend le soir
Au manteau noir,
Écouter la pâle colombe
Chanter sur la pointe de l'if
Son chant plaintif.
CLICK HERE for the entire set of six poems
The 1st, 3rd and last verses of the poem were also set by Henri Duparc in his song, Lamento.
This English version (©2009, E. Lein) may be freely used for nonprofit educational purposes such as student recitals, but please give credit and let me know!
| Au cimetière : Claire du lune [Lamento] |
At the Cemetery : Moonlight
[Lament]
Connaissez-vous la blanche tombe,
Où flotte avec un son plaintif
L'ombre d'un if?
Sur l'if une pâle colombe,
Triste et seule au soleil couchant,
Chante son chant:
Knowest thou the tomb of white
Whither wafts the sound of sorrow
Neath th' yew's shadow?
Upon the yew a pale dove lights;
Sad and lone, to the western sun
He sings his song:
Un air maladivement tendre,
À la fois charmant et fatal,
Qui vous fait mal
Et qu'on voudrait toujours entendre;
Un air comme en soupire aux cieux
L'ange amoureux.
CONTINUED HERE
On dirait que l'âme éveillée
Pleure sous terre à l'unisson
De la chanson,
Et du malheur d'être oubliée
Se plaint dans un roucoulement
Bien doucement.
Sur les ailes de la musique
On sent lentement revenir
Un souvenir.
Une ombre, une forme angélique,
Passe dans un rayon tremblant,
En voile blanc.
Les belles de nuit demicloses
Jettent leur parfum faible
et doux
Autour de vous,
Et le fantôme aux molles poses
Murmure en vous tendant les bras:
Tu reviendras!
Oh! jamais plus près de la tombe,
Je n'irai, quand descend le soir
Au manteau noir,
Écouter la pâle colombe
Chanter sur la pointe de l'if
Son chant plaintif.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
New song: "Summer Wind," on a poem by William Cullen Bryant
This is the latest piece I'm working on. CLICK HERE for complete vocal part.
Here's the origianl text, but the typography is altered from the original poem--the added line breaks indicate the various sections of the musical structure.
(CLICK HERE To see the original layout of poem)
SUMMER WIND
It is a sultry day ; the sun has drunk
The dew that lay upon the morning grass ;
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me.
All is silent, save the faint
And interrupted murmur of the bee,
Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing.
The plants around
Feel the too potent fervors : the tall maize
Rolls up its long green leaves ; the clover droops
Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.
But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,
With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,
As if the scortching heat and dazzling light
Were but an element they loved.
Bright clouds,
Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven--
Their bases on the mountains--their white tops
Shining in the far ether--fire the air
With a reflected radiance, and make turn
The gazer's eye away.
For me, I lie
Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,
Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,
Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind
That still delays its coming.
Why so slow,
Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?
Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Coolness and life.
Is it that in his caves
He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,
The pine is bending his proud top, and now,
Among the nearer groves, chesnut and oak
Are tossing their green boughs about.
[WALTZ]
He comes ;
Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves!
The deep distressful silence of the scene
Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds
And universal motion.
He is come,
Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,
And bearing on their fragrance ;
and he brings
Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,
And sound of swaying branches, and the voice
Of distant waterfalls.
All the green herbs
Are stirring in his breath ;
a thousand flowers,
By the road-side and the borders of the brook,
Nod gayly to each other ;
glossy leaves
Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew
Were on them yet, and silver waters break
Into small waves and sparkle
as he comes.
Here's the origianl text, but the typography is altered from the original poem--the added line breaks indicate the various sections of the musical structure.
(CLICK HERE To see the original layout of poem)
SUMMER WIND
It is a sultry day ; the sun has drunk
The dew that lay upon the morning grass ;
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me.
All is silent, save the faint
And interrupted murmur of the bee,
Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing.
The plants around
Feel the too potent fervors : the tall maize
Rolls up its long green leaves ; the clover droops
Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.
But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,
With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,
As if the scortching heat and dazzling light
Were but an element they loved.
Bright clouds,
Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven--
Their bases on the mountains--their white tops
Shining in the far ether--fire the air
With a reflected radiance, and make turn
The gazer's eye away.
For me, I lie
Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,
Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,
Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind
That still delays its coming.
Why so slow,
Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?
Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Coolness and life.
Is it that in his caves
He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,
The pine is bending his proud top, and now,
Among the nearer groves, chesnut and oak
Are tossing their green boughs about.
[WALTZ]
He comes ;
Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves!
The deep distressful silence of the scene
Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds
And universal motion.
He is come,
Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,
And bearing on their fragrance ;
and he brings
Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,
And sound of swaying branches, and the voice
Of distant waterfalls.
All the green herbs
Are stirring in his breath ;
a thousand flowers,
By the road-side and the borders of the brook,
Nod gayly to each other ;
glossy leaves
Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew
Were on them yet, and silver waters break
Into small waves and sparkle
as he comes.
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