Program notes, texts, and translations

Rosephanye Powell’s music is characterized by beautiful melodies, strong rhythmic emphasis, and rich harmonies,

often derived from African American popular styles. She serves as Professor of Voice at Auburn University, and her

research has focused on the art of the African American spiritual and the art songs of William Grant Still. In 2009, Dr.

Powell received the “Living Legend Award” presented by California State University African Diaspora Sacred Music

Festival in Los Angeles.

Sicut cervus

Sicut cervus desiderat ad fontes aquarum:

ita desiderat anima mea ad te, Deus.

Sitivit anima mea ad Deum fortem vivum:

quando veniam et apparebo ante faciem Dei?

Fuerunt mihi lacrimae meae panes die ac nocte,

dum dicitur mihi quotidiae: Ubi est Deus tuus?

As a deer longs for springs of water,

so longs my soul for thee, O God.

My soul has thirsted for the strong living God;

when shall I come to appear before God’s face?

My tears have been to me bread day and night,

while is it said to me daily: Where is your God? 

Casey Rule is a programmer by day and a composer by night, writing music when he’s not busy writing code. He studied computer science, music composition, and conducting at Lehigh University where he was among the first students to graduate with an Integrated Degree in Engineering, Arts and Sciences. He lives in Brooklyn with his wife who shares his split affinity for music and technology, and their cat, who does not. Draw on, sweet night is an adaptation of a Renaissance madrigal by John Wilbye (1574–1638).

Draw on, sweet night
Draw on, Sweet Night, best friend unto those cares
That do arise from painful melancholy.
My life so ill through want of comfort fares,
that unto thee I consecrate it wholly. 

Sweet Night, draw on! My griefs when they be told
To shades and darkness find some ease from paining,
And while thou all in silence dost enfold,
I then shall have best time for my complaining.

Dale Trumbore is a Los Angeles-based composer and writer whose music has been called “devastatingly beautiful” (The Washington Post) and has been praised for its “soaring melodies and beguiling harmonies deployed with finesse” (The New York Times). Her compositions have been performed widely in the U.S. and internationally by groups such as Atlanta Master Chorale, Conspirare and the Miró Quartet, Los Angeles Master Chorale, National Youth Choir of Scotland, Phoenix Chorale, and Seraphic Fire. Trumbore has written extensively about working through creative blocks and establishing a career in music in essays for Cantate Magazine, the Center for New Music, and NewMusicBox, and her creative writing is featured or forthcoming in Southern Indiana Review, PRISM International, New Delta Review, and Pacifica Literary Review. Trumbore currently lives in Southern California with her spouse and an unreasonable number of cats.

I am music sets an anonymous text, a riddle full of mystery and rich imagery, where music speaks in the first person, describing the many moods and emotions it can evoke.

I am music
Through me spirits immortal speak the message that makes the world weep,
And laugh, and wonder, and worship.
I tell the story of love, the story of hate,
the story that saves, and damns.
I am the incense upon which prayers float to heaven.
I am the smoke which palls over the field of battle where men lie dying with me on their lips.
I am close to the marriage altar,
and when the graves open, I stand nearby.
I call the wanderer home,
I rescue the soul from the depths.
I open the lips of lovers and through me the dead whisper to the living.
I speak through the birds of the air,
The insects of the field, the crash of the waters on
rock-ribbed shores,
The sighing of wind in the trees,
and I am even heard [...]
In the clatter of wheels on city streets.
I know my brother, yet all men are my brothers;
I am of them and they are of me, for I am the instrument of God.
I am music.
— Anonymous, circa 1919

Eric Whitacre has become one of the most popular and performed composers of his generation. Many of Whitacre’s works have entered the standard choral repertoire, and he has received the Richard Rodgers Award for most promising musical theater composer. Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine is a collaboration between Whitacre and the poet Charles Anthony Silvestri, which poses the question: “What would it sound like if Leonardo daVinci were dreaming? And more specifically, what kind of music would fill the mind of such a genius? The drama tells the story of Leonardo being tormented by the calling of the air, tortured to such degree that his only recourse was to solve the riddle and figure out how to fly.”

Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine
Leonardo dreams of his flying machine...
Tormented by visions of flight and falling,
More wondrous and terrible each than the last,
Master Leonardo imagines an engine
To carry a man up into the sun...

And as he’s dreaming the heavens call him,
softly whispering their siren-song:
“Leonardo. Leonardo, vieni á volare.” (“Leonardo. Leonardo, come fly.”)

L’uomo colle sua congiegniate e grandi ale, (A man with wings large enough and duly connected)
facciendo forza contro alla resistente aria. (might learn to overcome the resistance of the air.)

Leonardo dreams of his flying machine...
As the candles burn low he paces and writes,
Releasing purchased pigeons one by one
Into the golden Tuscan sunrise...

And as he dreams, again the calling,
The very air itself gives voice:
“Leonardo. Leonardo, vieni á volare.” (“Leonardo. Leonardo, come fly.”)

Vicina all’elemento del fuoco... (Close to the sphere of elemental fire...)
Scratching quill on crumpled paper,

Rete, canna, filo, carta. (Net, cane, thread, paper.)
Images of wing and frame and fabric fastened tightly.
...sulla suprema sottile aria. (...in the highest and rarest atmosphere.)

Master Leonardo Da Vinci dreams of his flying machine...
As the midnight watchtower tolls,
Over rooftop, street and dome,
The triumph of a human being ascending
In the dreaming of a mortal man.

Leonardo steels himself,
takes one last breath,
and leaps...

“Leonardo, vieni á volare! Leonardo, sognare!” (“Leonardo, come fly! Leonardo, dream!”)

Vaclovas Augustinas holds degrees in composition and conducting from the Lithuanian Academy of Music, where he is now on the faculty. He is the conductor of the Vilnius Municipality Choir, and his works are regularly performed in Lithuania and internationally. He was member of rock groups Saulės laikrodis and Antis (keyboards, vocal); after the reunion of Antis in 2007, he continues to compose songs and perform with them. Treputė Martela is based on an old Lithuanian folk song. The text describes a young girl (daughter-in-law) who goes through all the steps required to produce linen, the national fabric of Lithuania—she plants the flax seeds, harvests, spins and weaves—all while dancing.

Treputė Martela   
Treputė Martela linelius sėjo

Treputė Martela linelius akėjo

Trepu treputėla Martilelijėla

Treputė Martela lineliai augo

Treputė Martela lineliai žydi

Treputė Martela linelius rove

Treputė Martela linelius rišo

Treputė Martela linelius merkė

Treputė Martela linelius klojo

Treputė Martela linelius kėlė

Treputė Martela linelius traukė

Treputėla Martela

Treputė Martela linelius mynė

Treputė Martela linelius bruko

Treputė Martela linelius šukavo

Treputė Martela linelius verpė

Treputė Martela linelius audė

Martilelijėla linelius audė

Treputėla lelijėla

 
The little dancing daughter-in-law is planting the flax

... is harrowing the flax

... is like a lily

... is growing the flax

... is blossoming the flax

... is harvesting the flax

... ties the flax together

... is soaking the flax

... is drying the flax

... is picking up the flax

... is pulling up the flax

The little dancing daughter-in-law

... is stepping on the flax

... is finishing the flax

... is combing the flax

... is spinning the flax

... is weaving the flax

... like a lily is weaving the flax

The dancing little lily.

Gitanjali for choir and trumpet is set to one of the many poems which make up the extended work Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore. A renowned Bengali poet, artist, and composer, Tagore won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913, largely for his own English translation of the Gitanjali. The translation of the title Gitanjali is “an offering of songs” or, because of the inherent devotional connotation, “a prayer offering of songs.” Gitanjali was commissioned in 2013 by Brian Chin for the Universal Language Project. (Karen P. Thomas bio linked here)

Gitanjali
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not!
I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.

I may not find a place in thy garland,
but honor it with a touch of pain from thy hand and pluck it.

I fear lest the day end before I am aware,
and the time of offering go by.

Though its color be not deep and its smell be faint,
use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
—Rabindranath Tagore

Mari Esabel Valverde (bio linked here) composed Still wie die Nacht while still a student at St. Olaf College. The composer writes of Still wie die Nacht:

“When I was a student at St. Olaf, the American Boychoir came by on their tour, and I heard them sing a choral version of Carl Bohm’s Lied. I admired the words and had the fortune to have choir friends sing my original setting of the text as one of the choral works in my senior composition recital.

“Still wie die Nacht is a dramatic work, certainly compared to my recent compositions. It is not performed often, perhaps because of how demanding it is to sing. The true moment of climax is quiet and introspective yet still full of enchantment.”

Still wie die Nacht
Still wie die Nacht

und tief wie das Meer,

soll deine Liebe sein!

Wenn du mich liebst,

so wie ich dich,

will ich dein eigen sein.

Heiß wie der Stahl

und fest wie der Stein

soll deine Liebe sein!

As quiet as the night

and deep as the sea,

your love should be!

If you love me

the same as I love you,

I want to be yours.

As hot as steel

and as firm as a rock,

your love should be!

Mari Esabel Valverde composed Our Phoenix for the GALA Festival 2016. The composer writes:

“In a time when trans people are more visible than ever, we know that, just since the start of 2015, over 20 transgender Americans have been reported murdered at the hands of impassioned cowards. We also know that approximately 40% of trans Americans are documented to have attempted suicide. There are many obstacles for our LGBTQ family, and while it is not constructive to compare them by their gravities, we must acknowledge the egregious undervaluing of our trans population. Our Phoenix is ours because we, the people, the queer population and our allies, all of us share this life-struggle. When one stripe of our rainbow is denied the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, when we are targeted and harassed, assaulted, or pushed beyond the edge of mortality, the impact comes back for everyone. We only have ourselves to hold accountable, and our response will set the tone for the generations who survive us.

“My inspiration for this composition were the words clay, phoenix, burning, bright, beyond survival, loving, and victory. The mention of clay is a metaphor for humus, the stuff from which our spiritual humanity was formed; burning suggests the hazardous process of forging us into something that will endure; and the phoenix is an allusion to the incandescent bird that is reborn rising from ashes to persist forever.

“From disconnected melodic lines to resounding harmonies interwoven with trumpet declamations, this work is a lamentation, an outcry, and a rousing to a movement for equality. We must demand more from ourselves for ourselves and for those who follow us. Let us, then, be like the phoenix and rise.”

Amir Rabiyah is a queer, trans, mixed-race, disabled poet, educator, and librarian currently living in Central Pennsylvania. They are the author of Prayers for My 17th Chromosome, published by Sibling Rivalry Press in November 2017, and co-editor of Writing the Walls Down: A Convergence of LGBTQ Voices, published by Trans-Genre Press in October 2015. Amir writes about living with chronic pain and illness, war, trauma, spirituality, healing, redemption—and speaks on silenced places. Amir is a three-time VONA (Voices of our Nations) fellow, and was a finalist in the 2008 Joy Harjo Poetry contest.

Our Phoenix
My Dear Beautiful People,

Each time you are broken,
I break, I break,
I break a little more
then un-break,

I am piecing myself back together
with the care of a potter's hands

I clay phoenix

I feel the heat 

of our resurrections burning

to glaze our skin into glow

my fire and my kiln

are these words, this space

the intimate threads

of our connection

...

I envision us going on 

to eclipse, building, bigger, bigger, bigger

more luminous

So bright

My beautiful people

our breaking is our making

...

[Let] us dream towards

what we want

beyond survival

Let us dream towards loving

ourselves

over and over again

My beautiful people

I can taste our honeyed victory

My beautiful people

our dangerous sweetness

is our rebellion

— Amir Rabiyah

Ralph Vaughan Williams, composer, writer, teacher, and conductor, was a key figure in the revival of 20th-century English music. His significance in English music extends to the realm of traditional music as well—he collected over 800 folk songs and variants from traditional singers in different parts of England during his lifetime, and his own compositions are imbued with the essence of English folk music. From this collection, he created many choral and vocal arrangements of English folksongs, such as this setting of the 18th-century folk ballad The Turtle Dove.

The Turtle Dove

Fare you well my dear I must be gone,

and leave you for a while;

If I roam away I’ll come back again,

Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear,

Though I roam ten thousand miles.

So fair though art my bonny lass,

So deep in love am I;

But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,

Till the stars fall from the sky, my dear,

Till the stars fall from the sky.

The sea will never run dry, my dear,

Nor the rocks never melt with the sun.

But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,

Till all these things be done, my dear,

Till all these things be done.

O yonder doth sit that little turtle dove,

He doth sit on yonder high tree,

A making a moan for the loss of his love,

As I will do for thee, my dear,

As I will do for thee.

Of Up/Rising Into, the composer Mari Esabel Valverde writes:

“Dedicated to transgender and nonbinary youth everywhere, Up/Rising Into was commissioned in 2024 by Seattle Pro Musica as part of their New American Composers Series. With an original text by trans poet Amir Rabiyah, this work responds to a continuous barrage of attacks on the rights of trans and gender expansive children with love and hope.

“‘Brimming with compassion,’ the piece begins with a message of consolation as voices assemble, each creating ostinati in waves of caressing gestures, gently as a lullaby. The melody, sung by the deepest voices, rises and speaks of shattered innocence, abandonment, and exhaustion. Each cadence returns to a somber G# minor until a willful statement is declared three times in succession: ‘You are beloved.’ With a pronounced shift to a faster tempo gradually into major mode, the song is delivered from meditation to movement.

“When, at last, it is time to ‘take flight,’ the voices separate as two wings, alternating as two oars wading the sky, gliding towards a new time and place where trans joy abounds. The singing concludes in a half cadence, for the work is not complete. Though the path is uncertain, with our hearts renewed, there is hope.

“Ultimately, Up/Rising Into is a call to action to hold space for transgender and nonbinary Americans to grieve, to rest, and to resist. It demands that we engage in creating social change by showing up for those fighting for our rights on the frontlines; by investing in mutual aid; by shifting the culture by telling the stories that transformed us; by calling others in; by casting out fear with persistent education; by building our local communities; and by maintaining our support of marginalized populations with whom trans Americans are intertwined in our journeys towards liberation.

“May this song resound as a movement through our lives.”

Up/Rising Into

Oh child,

not everyone will understand

the grief of losing

all you hold, dear

friends, schools, homes some connections disappear

You tire of swimming upstream

outside, the sidewalks teem with upcoming elections

officials debate your right to exhale

ban books; the poetry of your becoming.

Though you may wish to let go, know

You are beloved!

You are beloved!

You are beloved!

Another season will arrive; welcome you

so, go on now

open your hands

let jasmine fall from your palms

follow the trail of petals

leading you towards a precious life

let the wind whisk you

take flight

up/rising into gender euphoria

Your joy self-made

a present

a future

transcendent

—Amir Rabiyah

James Mulholland,  one of the most published, performed, and commissioned composer-arrangers of his generation, creates for three passions—music, text, and life. Over his career he has written over six hundred compositions, and he has served as Professor of Music at Butler University in Indianapolis, Indiana. True to Mulholland’s Irish heritage, his music is influenced by the British Isles’ school of lyricism, which emphasizes the beauty of melody and text. Through his music, he desires to share the beauty of the great poets and give them the recognition and appreciation they deserve. Heinrich Heine, the great German poet said, “When words can express no more, music begins.” A red, red rose is a setting of the famous poem by Robert Burns, the national poet of Scotland.

A red, red rose

O my Luve is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile.

Mari Esabel Valverde composed We hold your names sacred in 2021 for the GALA Choruses #SingforTWOC Project. The composer writes:

“Lady Dane says we say their names ‘to get the heavens to move for us.’ Such practice hearkens back to our Indigenous ancestors whose ceremonies honor the departed. Likewise, we hold ourselves accountable for keeping our sisters’ memory alive, for the ultimate death would be that the lives within their names were forgotten. For too many of our Black and Indigenous transgender siblings of color, their humanity was ignored long before their lives were stolen by cowards.

“Singing We Hold Your Names Sacred, we join our voices in a surge up to the skies. From the start, a stepwise bass in the piano is played in octaves like slow, determined feet marching towards justice. The voices enter wide and full, merge gradually into a single line raising supplications for joy, and then, disperse speaking our sisters’ names into eternity. In call and response, as in an organized protest, various soloists invoke their memory, and upon the recitation of each name, each life is acknowledged as a blessing. The choir follows, rising like clouds, singing their names individually as spirits are summoned from abyss to air. Ultimately, all the voices unify to resound a demand for justice that our sisters’ loving memory will be everlasting. We do not need to be told the traumas of members of the transgender community in order to boldly show up for them. For those who are still here, we must act now and continue learning along the way. Let us say our sisters’ names and fight for justice as they would have it.”

Dubbed “the ancient jazz priestess of Mother Africa,” Lady Dane Figueroa Edidi is a Black, African, Cuban, Indigenous, American trans performance artist, author, a Helen Hayes nominated actress, a two-time Helen Hayes Award nominated choreographer, a Helen Hayes Award winning playwright, dramaturg, educator, speechwriter, advocate, and co-editor of The Black Trans Prayer Book. She is the founder of the Inanna D Initiatives, which curates, produces, and cultivates events and initiatives designed to center and celebrate the work of transgender and gender non-conforming artists of color. She is the curator and a co-producer of Long Wharf Theater’s Black Trans Women at the Center: An Evening of Short Plays.

We hold your names sacred

Sisters whose lives were taken

Memories of you

we sing

Note, chord, melody, harmony

psalm

Prayers

we offer with tears

Love

with words we give

High

we lift your spirit up

So you may know forever joy

Jaquarrius Holland

Chyna Gibson

Ty Underwood

Penny Proud

Crystal Edmonds

Islan Nettles

Angel Rose

Lexi

Layla Pelaez Sánchez

Muhlaysia Booker

Brianna “BB” Hill

Layleen Polanco

May your smile be made eternal

May justice be brought

with this refrain

Sisters we hold sacred your names

When Thunder Comes was commissioned and premiered by the One Voice Mixed Chorus in 2016. The composer writes:

"When Thunder Comes is a celebration of American civil rights heroes: Sylvia Méndez, who challenged California’s justice system in a fight for racial desegregation of schools; Helen Zia, Chinese-American lesbian feminist author, journalist, Fulbright scholar, and activist for peace; Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected official in California’s history, remembered as a vocal gay rights advocate; and Freedom Summer’s ‘soldiers,’ who risked their lives in their movement to enfranchise Black voters in Mississippi of the 1960’s. Calling attention to our history’s systemic erasure of the stories of marginalized human beings in the United States, Lewis’ sonnet presents a powerful model for patriotism. The drums, a figurative representation of a grass roots revolution, provide thunder, and the singing relays the message

that, once unified, our individual voices can come together and ‘drown out fear.’”

When Thunder Comes

The poor and dispossessed take up the drums

For civil rights—freedoms to think and speak,

Petition, pray, and vote. When thunder comes,

The civil righteous are finished being meek.

Why Sylvia Méndez bet against long odds,

How Harvey Milk turned hatred on its head,

Why Helen Zia railed against tin gods,

How Freedom Summer’s soldiers faced the dread

Golden friend, and dearest neighbor, 

Dear companion of my childhood,

Come and sing with me the stories, 

Come and chant with me the legends, 

Legends of the time forgotten, 

Since we now are here together, 

Come together from our roamings. 

Seldom do we come for singing, 

Seldom to the one, the other. 

Are tales of thunder that I hope to tell

From my thin bag of verse for you to hear

In miniature, like ringing a small bell,

And know a million bells can drown out fear.

For history was mute witness when such crimes

Discolored and discredited our times.

—J. Patrick Lewis (b. 1942)