Winds of Change
texts & translations
Sumptuous Planet
text by Richard Dawkins
from Unweaving the Rainbow: Science, Delusion and the Appetite for Wonder
After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again.
Señal del Viento
Warning of the Wind
text by Las Áñes
text by Richard Dawkins
from Unweaving the Rainbow: Science, Delusion and the Appetite for Wonder
After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again.
Señal del Viento
Warning of the Wind
text by Las Áñes
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Spanish original text
Si yo estuviera triste, encendería una vela Para soplar los miedos, para curar las penas Temor y sombra oscura que bienvenidos sean De ahora en adelante por la puerta trasera. Que se vaya esa sombra oscura Que sera, ay de mi alma si no encuentra calma? Que sera lo que me pasa Que vengo pensando desde la casa De donde proviene ese sufrimiento, Será que no oigo la señal del viento que dice Que no lo ensucie, que cuide su aire Que no lo abuse que si nos falta respiración Es que nos falta mas corazón Para entender que la sensación de nube gris Tiene explicación: Cada vasija que no reciclo Cada desecho que rompe el ciclo Adquisiciones innecesarias Dicen que el exceso es nuestra malaria! No es por el encierro que tenga penas No es por la muerte nuestra condena Es que a la muerte quiero matar Pero también la suelo buscar; Matando agua, matando peces Montando en buses que pintan gris No hay cielo que nos perdone esos trancones No queda mas tierra que nos perdone Respiro mejor por la ventana Y todo el temor sirve para nada La sombra oscura de mi cultura La sopló cual vela si tiene cura. |
English translation
If I were sad, I’d light a candle So I could blow away all fear and cure all suffering. From now on, fear and its dark shadow are no longer welcome at my front door. Go away dark shadow For what will become of my soul if it doesn’t find peace? What am I doing here in my home wondering what causes all our suffering? Could it be that I can't hear the cry of the wind telling me not to pollute it and abuse it, but rather care for it? For if we feel that we cannot breathe It is due to our lack of compassion and understanding that the gray skies around us have a clear explanation: Every container that we don't recycle Every piece of waste that halts the earth’s natural cycle and every unnecessary purchase They say that excess is our new plague! I can’t just feel bad because of the lockdown or the death all around us I wish I could end death however I realize I’ve brought it upon myself; By killing water, killing fish riding buses that paint the world gray There is no sky that can tolerate our rush hours, no earth left to forgive us I want to open a window so I can breathe better and all this fear is doing nothing I would blow out a candle if it promised a cure for humankind’s shadow. |
The New Colossus
text by Emma Lazarus
[Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips]
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Clean Air and Clean Water
text by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez
from a meeting of the U.S. House Committee on Financial Services on 27 March 2019
This is not an elitist issue.
This is a quality of life issue.
You want to tell people that
their concern and their desire
for clean air and clean water is elitist?
People are dying.
This is about our lives -
American lives,
and it should not be partisan.
Science should not be partisan.
We talk about cost -
We’re going to pay for this
Whether we pass a Green New Deal or not.
Because towns and cities go underwater,
as wildfires ravage our communities,
we are going to pay.
We are facing a national crisis.
And if we do not ascend to that crisis…
then I don’t know what we’re doing.
Trois Chansons
II. Trois beaux oiseaux du Paradis
text by Maurice Ravel
text by Emma Lazarus
[Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips]
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Clean Air and Clean Water
text by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez
from a meeting of the U.S. House Committee on Financial Services on 27 March 2019
This is not an elitist issue.
This is a quality of life issue.
You want to tell people that
their concern and their desire
for clean air and clean water is elitist?
People are dying.
This is about our lives -
American lives,
and it should not be partisan.
Science should not be partisan.
We talk about cost -
We’re going to pay for this
Whether we pass a Green New Deal or not.
Because towns and cities go underwater,
as wildfires ravage our communities,
we are going to pay.
We are facing a national crisis.
And if we do not ascend to that crisis…
then I don’t know what we’re doing.
Trois Chansons
II. Trois beaux oiseaux du Paradis
text by Maurice Ravel
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French original text
Trois beaux oiseaux du Paradis Mon ami z-il est à la guerre Trois beaux oiseaux du Paradis Ont passé par ici. Le premier était plus bleu que le ciel, (Mon ami z-il est à la guerre) Le second était couleur de neige, Le troisième rouge vermeil. "Beaux oiselets du Paradis, (Mon ami z-il est à la guerre) Beaux oiselets du Paradis, Qu'apportez par ici?" "J'apporte un regard couleur d'azur (Ton ami z-il est à la guerre)" "Et moi, sur beau front couleur de neige, Un baiser dois mettre, encore plus pur." Oiseau vermeil du Paradis, (Mon ami z-il est à la guerre) Oiseau vermeil du Paradis, Que portez vous ainsi? "Un joli coeur tout cramoisi" Ton ami z-il est à la guerre "Ha! je sens mon coeur qui froidit... Emportez le aussi." |
English translation
Three beautiful birds of paradise (My love is gone to the war) Three beautiful birds of paradise Have passed this way. The first was bluer than the sky (My love has gone to the war) The second was the color of snow The third was red as vermillion. "Beautiful little birds of paradise (My love has gone to the war) Beautiful little birds of paradise What do you bring here?" "I carry an azure glance (Your love has gone to the war) And I must leave on a snow-white brow A kiss, even purer." "You red bird of paradise (My love has gone to the war) You red bird of paradise What are you bringing me?" "A loving heart, flushing crimson." (Your love has gone to the war) "Ah, I feel my heart growing cold . . . Take that with you as well." |
Friede auf Erden
text by Conrad Ferdinand Meyer
text by Conrad Ferdinand Meyer
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German original text
Da die Hirten ihre Herde Ließen und des Engles Worte Trugen durch die niedre Pforte Zu der Mutter mit dem Kind, Fuhr das himmlische Gesind Fort im Sternenraum zu singen, Fuhr der Himmel fort zu klingen: "Friede, Friede! auf der Erde!" Seit die Engel so geraten, O wie viele blut'ge Taten Hat der Streit auf wildem Pferde, Der geharnischte vollbracht! In wie mancher heiligen Nacht Sang der Chor der Geister zagend, Dringlich flehend, leis verklagend: "Friede, Friede... auf der Erde!" Doch es ist ein ewiger Glaube, Dass der Schwache nicht zum Raube Jeder frechen Mordgebärde Werde fallen allezeit: Etwas wie Gerechtigkeit Webt und wirkt in Mord und Grauen Und ein Reich will sich erbauen, Das den Frieden sucht der Erde. Mählich wird es sich gestalten, Seines heiligen Amtes walten, Waffen schmieden ohne Fährde, Flammenschwerter für das Recht, Und ein königlich Geschlecht Wird erblühn mit starken Söhnen, Dessen helle Tuben dröhnen: Friede, Friede auf der Erde! |
English translation
When the shepherds left their flocks and carried the words of the angel's through the lowly gate to the Mother and the Child. the heavenly host continued to sing in the starry spheres, and the heavens echoed their sound: "Peace, peace on Earth!" Since the angels thus admonished o, how many bloody deeds has strife on its wild steed and in its warlike armour done! In how many holy nights has the chorus of spirits hesitantly sung wirth urgent prayer and mild reproach. "Peace, peace on Earth!" Yet it is an eternal belief that the weak should not forever fall victim to every bold murderous gesture. Something akin to justice dwells in the midst of murder and horror, and a kingdom shall gradually arise that shall seek peace for the earth. Gradually it shall take shape and carry out its holy task, shall forge weapons that are without danger, fiery swords of justice; and a kingly race shall flourish with strong descendants whose shining trumpets shall resound: "Peace, peace on Earth!" |
Breaths
text by Birago Diop
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah -- wsh Ah -- wsh
Those who have died have never, never left
The dead are not under the earth
They are in the rustling trees
They are in the groaning woods
They are in the crying grass
They are in the moaning rocks
The dead are not under the earth
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah -- wsh Ah -- wsh
Those who have did have never, never left
The dead have a pact with the living
They are in the woman’s breast
They are in the wailing child
They are with us in our homes
They are with us in this crowd
The dead have a pact with the living
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah -- wsh Ah -- wsh
text by Birago Diop
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah -- wsh Ah -- wsh
Those who have died have never, never left
The dead are not under the earth
They are in the rustling trees
They are in the groaning woods
They are in the crying grass
They are in the moaning rocks
The dead are not under the earth
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah -- wsh Ah -- wsh
Those who have did have never, never left
The dead have a pact with the living
They are in the woman’s breast
They are in the wailing child
They are with us in our homes
They are with us in this crowd
The dead have a pact with the living
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah -- wsh Ah -- wsh
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This program is supported in part by a grant from the Boston Cultural Council, administered by the Mayor’s Office of Arts and Culture.
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