Dreamweaver
Dreamweaver is based on the medieval Norwegian poem Draumkvedet. Ola asked me to create a loose English translation in a variety of archaic styles. This was a fun one to work on. I have included below the full text I sent to the composer, and a program version that matches what he used for the score.
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Dreamweaver has had a variety of excellent performances since its premier at Carnegie Hall in 2014, including an exquisite recording by the Choir of Royal Holloway and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Rupert Gough.
Program Notes
"Draumkvedet" is a dense and enigmatic text, full of mysticism and puzzling images. My task was to render this poem in English in a way that makes sense as a choral work, but which maintains the flavor and integrity of the original. First I obtained a copy of the original text and a literal translation. Then I organized the images and "storyline" into a program which would work as a choral piece. What was my interpretation of the poem? How overtly religious did I want it to be? I chose to retain much of the original narrative religious content, but made more subtle the ending message.
The next task was to choose a style. I wanted it to sound ancient, and vaguely Northern European, and ultimately I chose a variety of archaic styles. Readers might notice the opening word, "Listen!" reminiscent of the "Hwaet!" which begins Beowulf. The short, choppy stanzas which begin the dreamsong each end in a similar declarative statement. This I did to provide the composer with some internal structure, should he wish to use it. The next three stanzas mimic the Anglo-Saxon structure, with split lines, internal rhyming, etc. This style is more stately to my ears, and suited well the speaker's audience with the Holy Mother. These are very fussy to write, and so I limited myself to just this section. Next comes rhyming couplets in iambic pentameter, to bring the story faster and faster to the climactic confrontation.
All through the text I have borrowed words and phrases from a variety of sources--scripture, Shakespeare, Tolkien--and maintained many images from the original text. The confrontation itself is given to a narrator. While writing this text I performed the narrator part for a performance of Britten's The Company of Heaven" and was struck by the power and majesty of a spoken part above the music. These lines spoke to me in a narrator's voice (and also solved the problem of moving through a lot of territory briefly, rather than adding thirty minutes worth of text to perform!). Finally I returned to the original dreamsong motive and a return of the bard's voice at the end. This text presented unique challenges which spoke to many of my interests and experiences, as a historian, wordsmith, and Christian.
Full Texts of Dreamweaver
(Original & Score Versions)
DREAMWEAVER (Original Version)
©2012 Charles Anthony Silvestri
Listen!
I sing the sacred vision
Of the All-Wise Wanderer,
The Weaver of Dreams.
On Christmas Eve he fell asleep,
So deep, so deep,
And woke upon Epiphany
With tales to tell.
He hurried to the holy Mass
And stood upon the threshold;
The warp and weft of wandering
He wove into his tale.
And this was his dreamsong:
My journey began
In a rugged land,
Hard and fast
And unforgiving.
I made my way.
Beasts there were,
And wilder things,
And shades of night
Were in that land;
I was afraid.
The monster’s claws
Tore at my cloak;
With piercing eyes
They saw my soul.
I ran away.
For many leagues
I traveled west
Until at last—
My journey’s end—
I saw the Bridge!
Stretching out
Across the sky,
The way was barred
To all but wise.
I went across.
This bridge was spanned across a sea of ice—
A silver band, a way to Paradise.
A fair wide land did open up at last;
I stopped to stand where Future reckons Past.
And in that place the Pilgrim Church did rise
Where, full of grace, our Holy Mother wise
Bade me embrace her heart of gold and red;
And o’er her face a loving smile was spread.
She spoke in gentle tone and bade me go
Where every sin is known, where north winds blow,
Unto the very throne of God to see
How sorrow is self-sown, forgiveness, free.
I met a man, whose cloak was stained in blood,
All mired was he, up to his knees in mud;
He held a frightened child under his arm,
And bitterly he wept for causing harm.
Cloaked all in lead a sinner fell, [Another one there was, cloaked all in lead;
Laden with burdens heavy; Behind her eyes the fire almost dead,
She lost her life in fear of hell The weight worn heavy on her head—regret—
In hope that she might be free. For past mistakes and those not present yet.
Others there were by pain ensnared And many more I saw who were in pain—
By grief and tribulation Of loneliness, of fear, of loss or gain—
Hoping that they may yet be spared Attached, betrayed, obsessed, resigned, afraid,
And praying for salvation. Ensnared in traps, which they themselves have
made.] (original text)
Amid this gath’ring of the self-accursed
A mighty noise into the glooming burst:
A blast of trumpet, terrible to hear,
The harbinger of Judgment drawing near.
On midnight horse the great Deceiver came,
These thralls of his illusions for to claim.
The sinning souls like aspens trembling
Made hasty penance for their suffering.
And lo, there came another trumpet blast, like thunder echoing in the heavens. From on high came St. Michael the Defender, Protector of Souls, resplendent in gleaming armor. The Captain of the Heavenly Host stood between Satan and the sinning souls. Defender and Deceiver faced one-another, until Michael raised aloft his flaming sword and sang the battle-cry of old.
And with him appeared the Christ, wreathed in light, flanked by saints and angels beyond number, and crowned as King and Judge over all the earth. The Adversary turned in fear, and fled from before the Glory of the Lord and the Host of Heaven.
Among the souls
Who trembled there
Burdened down
With sin and fear,
I took my place.
To Christ the Judge
St. Michael spoke,
Defending us
Despite our shame.
I hung my head.
So one by one
We stood alone
Before our Maker
And our Judge.
He called my name.
His burning heart
Loved away my shame,
And forged my soul
Anew by Grace--
I was redeemed!
Listen!
I sing the sacred vision
Of the All-Wise Wanderer,
The Weaver of Dreams,
Who fell asleep,
So deep, so deep,
And woke with tales to tell,
A dreamsong woven for you.
So listen!
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DREAMWEAVER (Score Version)
©2012 Charles Anthony Silvestri
Listen!
I sing the sacred vision
Of the All-Wise Wanderer,
The Weaver of Dreams.
On Christmas Eve he fell asleep,
So deep, so deep,
And woke upon Epiphany
With tales to tell.
My journey began
In a rugged land,
Hard and fast
And unforgiving.
I made my way.
For many leagues
I traveled west
Until at last—
My journey’s end—
I saw the Bridge!
This bridge was spanned across a sea of ice—
A silver band, a way to Paradise.
A fair wide land did open up at last;
I stopped to stand where Future reckons Past.
I met a man, whose cloak was stained in blood,
All mired was he, up to his knees in mud;
Another one there was, cloaked all in lead,
Behind her eyes the fire almost dead;
The weight worn heavy on their heads—regret—
For past mistakes and those not present yet.
And many more I saw who were in pain—
Of loneliness, of fear, of loss or gain.
Amid this gath’ring of the self-accursed
A mighty noise into the glooming burst:
On midnight horse the great Deceiver came,
These thralls of his illusions for to claim.
The sinning souls like aspens trembling
Made hasty penance for their suffering.
And lo, there came another trumpet blast, like thunder echoing in the heavens. From on high came St. Michael the Defender, and stood between Satan and the sinning souls. And with him appeared the Christ, wreathed in light, flanked by saints and angels beyond number, and crowned as King and Judge over all the earth. Defender and Deceiver faced one-another, and the Adversary turned in fear, and fled from before the Glory of the Lord and the Host of Heaven.
To Christ the Judge
St. Michael spoke,
Defending us
Despite our shame.
I hung my head.
So one by one
We stood alone
Before our Maker
And our Judge.
He called my name.
His burning gaze
Loved away my shame,
And forged my soul
Anew by Grace--
I was redeemed!
Listen!
I sing the sacred vision
Of the All-Wise Wanderer,
The Weaver of Dreams…