music

SATB chorus
4 flutes 1º and 2º doubling piccolo, 4º doubling alto flute 
2 oboes 2º doubling english horn 
2 bassoons 2º doubling contrabassoon 
4 trombones
timpani
percussion 
  bass drum, brake drum, cymbals, glockenspiel, 4 log drums, mark tree, snare drum, 
  suspended cymbal, tam-tam, 4 tom-toms, 4 woodblocks 
strings

duration 25'

TEXTS
Dream of Flight

The Fugitive
I dreamt I was a fugitive
Hiding in a forest.
The wolves in a distant country
Hounded me through black deserts and over rough hills.
My dear, our separation was torture.
I dreamt I was without a home,
Dying in an unknown city,
Dying alone, my love, without a home. 
Abdul Wahab al-Bayati (b.1926) trans. Abdullah al-Udhari


Separation
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and saying, Sing us one of the  songs of Zion.
How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave, to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not  Jerusalem above my chief joy. 
From Psalm 137 King James version 

Dance of Desire 


The Lovers
The Maiden
I was asleep but my heart was awake.
I heard my lover knocking: 

The Lover
Let me in, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one!
For my head is wet with dew, my curls with the mist of the night. 

The Maiden
My lover drew back his hand from the latch, and my heart beat wildly for him.
I rose to let my lover in; my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers flowed with myrrh upon the 
 handles of the bolt.
I opened to my lover, but he had slipped away and was gone . . . .
I looked for him, but could not find him; I called to him, but he did not answer me
My lover is fair and radiant, peerless among ten thousand.
His head is the finest gold; his locks are palm fronds, black as the raven.
His eyes are like doves beside flowing brooks: milk-white doves. 
His cheeks are like beds of spices, exhaling perfumes. 
His body is a pillar of ivory . . . .
His legs are marble columns, set in sockets of fine gold. 
His bearing is like the trees of Lebanon, lofty as cedars. 
His mouth is most sweet; all of him is pure delight. 

The Lover
How beautiful are your sandalled feet, O royal daughter . . . .
Your curved thighs are like jewels.
Your navel is a round goblet, brim-full of wine. 
Your belly is a heap of wheat, ringed with lilies. 
Your breasts are like two fawns - the twins of a gazelle. 
Your neck is like a tower of ivory.
Here is your figure, stately as a palm tree . . . .
Let me climb the palm tree and take hold of its branches! 
May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine, 
the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like choice wine . . . 

The Maiden and the Lover
Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, 
for love is as fierce as death, passion is as harsh as the grave; 
its flashes are raging fires, violent flames. 
Vast floods cannot quench love, nor rivers sweep it away. 

from The Song of Songs trans. T. Carmi