Schumann and September

Des Sennen Abscheid. The Herdsman’s Farewell.
A singer prepares.

Schumann’s song is in my ear as I walk along the wooded path up above the river. Summer is waning, the shadows shifting. There’s a new scent to the earth. The simple melody seems a kaleidoscope of musicjoy.

When the song is new, I read the poetry and play it through on the piano before learning my part. Von Shiller’s lyrics are evocative - but before all that - before learning words and notes - I want to walk into this music.  And so I play the piano part, and there is Schumann. This is a kindling, this composer’s gift. As I play I hear bells.

I hear pipes and bells,
young and old,
sheaves and fields,
thick air of late summer,
the year waning.
I hear the rhythm of travel
in beautiful repeated bass tones.
farewell and return,
hope of return.

I hear the pride of a day’s work done,
the sun changing its rhythm in the sky.
I hear the heat rising, the birds calling
I hear the people and the land
speaking to one another.

I hear tired, I hear uplifted
I hear celebration.
I hear lives of earthy connection.
I hear my fantasy
my grand, comforting illusion:
the sensuous tactility of a rural life,
ah, a life close to the land!

I hear that hot late sun,
sweat and tired muscles,
long days shorter.
I hear joy in human labor,
joy in rest.

Melody and colors, the farewell to summer,
the gracenotes of a bird,
the start of a journey,
the turning of a season,
the ordinariness.

Others have known this and we know it now
as the song and the herdsman
tread home.
This is what I hear and
I am ready to begin to sing.