John Rommereim, Composer
About Convivencia:
Convivencia, (“coexistence,” or “living together”) is a term that has been used by historians to describe the interdependence that existed in medieval Spain between Jews, Muslims, and Christians. The central impulse behind this choral cycle is the attempt to draw connections between these three cultures by focusing on aspects of experience that are shared by everyone around the globe and across the centuries: affection, desire, grief, loss. The texts of Convivencia consist of ancient love poetry from the Jewish, Islamic, and Christian traditions. The first three movements are based on the biblical Song of Songs--love poetry that plays an important part both in the Jewish and the Christian tradition--and are sung in Latin. I began the first movement after encountering a splendid motet by the English composer William Mundy (c. 1529-1591), Vox Patris caelestis, the text of which contains lines from the Song of Songs with interpolations that identify the Virgin Mary as the object of devotion. I was taken with Mundy’s sumptuous music, and the curious mixture of sensuality and mystical fervor in the work’s text. I set about writing music of my own that I hoped would have some of the splendor that I heard in this music, as well as the sincerity and warmth of affection.
Following this vein of religious music that is co-mingled with romantic love,
I began to think that it might serve as an overarching theme for a larger work.
After completing three movements in Latin, for the fourth movement, I turned
to another passage from the Song of Songs, but instead of the Latin, I used
the original Hebrew. As I recited these words (“Uri tsafon, uvoi teman,”
“Awake, o north wind, and come, thou south”), I was struck by the
engaging rhythms and rhymes they contained. The sound-shapes of the words seemed
to generate melodies spontaneously, which is perhaps not so surprising, since
it is likely that they were originally written to be sung.
The most remarkable discovery as I worked on this piece was to begin to encounter
the rich tradition of religious/love poetry in Islam, and to learn that the
central notion of romantic love that figures so prominently in European culture
is traceable to Islamic poetic traditions, passed to the troubadours by way
of Andalusia. For the fifth and sixth movements I turned to texts by Ibn ‘Arabi,
a prolific poet, philosopher, and theologian from Al-Andalus (southern Spain
under Muslim rule). The poems “Grief Was Between Us” and “Amid
the Scent of Absinthe and Moringa” are taken from ’Arabi’s
book of poems, Turjuman al-Ashwaq (The Translator of Desires). These poems draw
on many conventions from Arabic poetry, particularly from the tradition of the
ode, or qitaba, the first section of which often involves the poet arriving
at a deserted camp, from which his beloved has recently left. In a lengthy commentary
on his book, ‘Arabi gives an allegorical interpretation of virtually every
image in a religious (Sufi) context. Many of the images therefore have multiple
associations. The moringa, a tree with delicate hanging blossoms, for instance,
is associated with the beloved's hair. In another sense it is associated with
abundance and the blooming desert. One overriding theme that recurs in all of
these poems is the idea that the desert blooms wherever the beloved appears,
but the poet is continually following after her, finding the landscape to be
barren. The opening line of the “Grief Was Between Us” mentions
the “ring-necked dove,” which, ‘Arabi says, symbolizes the
“Universal Sprit, born of God and breathed into Man.” The ring around
the dove’s neck symbolizes the covenant given to her by God (Martin Mings,
The Tarjuman Al-Ashwaq). Although these poem contain these allegorical symbols,
they can also be read more directly and simply as love poems. The same can be
said of the texts for the other movements in Convivencia; they all can be read
as highly allegorical sacred writing, or more directly and simply as love poetry.
I
Surge amica mea
Surge, amica mea, formosa mea,
de terra longinqua miseriis plena,
Surge, amica mea, columba mea.
Veni de corpore mortali et induante,
Mea corcula, vestitu deaurato
Circumdata varietate caelestis gloriae.
Veni ad me delectissimum amatorum tuum
Prae omnibus adamata,
Et ponam in te thronum meum.
Te omnis caeli cives summo desiderio exoptant videre.
Veni, veni quia concupivi speciem tuam.
Caelesti gloria coronaberis.
Arise, my beloved, my fair one,
From that far land full of sorrow;
Arise, my beloved, my dove,
Come forth from your mortal body,
clothed in raiment of gold, my dear-heart,
surrounded by the rainbow of heavenly glory.
Come to me, your most dear lover,
For I have loved you above all others,
And I will bestow upon you my kingdom.
All the hosts of heaven with great desire
Are longing to look upon you. Come, come, come,
For I have long desired your beauty:
Be crowned with heavenly glory.
II
Adiuro vosAdiuro vos filiae Jerusalem
ne suscitatis et evigilare faciatis delectiam
donec ipsa velit
Swear to me, daughters of Jerusalem,
that you will never awaken love
until it is ripe.
(Latin text from the Vulgate bible)
III
Vox dilecti mei
Ecce iste venit saliens,
In montibus transiliens colles.
The voice of my love: Listen!
Bounding over the mountains, across the hills.
Manus illius tornatiles,
Aureae plenae hyacinthis,
Venter eius eburneus distinctus sapphyris.
His arm is a golden scepter with gems of topaz,
His loins the ivory of thrones inlaid with sapphire.
Fulcite me floribus
Stipate me malis
Quia amore langueo
Let me lie among vine blossoms
In a bed of apricots
For I languish from love.
IV
Uri tsafon
(Awake, O North Wind)
uri tsafon uvoi teman hafikhi gani yizlu v’ samav
yavo dodi l’ gano v’ yo khal pri m’ gadav
ba ti l’ ga ni akhoti khala ariti mori im b’ sami
a khalti ya ri im divshi shatiti yeni im khalavi
ikh lu reim sh’tu v’ shikhru dodim
Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices
thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant
fruits.
I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my
myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my
wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
Song of Songs 4:16 and 5: 1
(KJV)
Special thanks to Rabbi Deborah Brin and Nicholas Liebman for their help with the transliteration.
V
Amid the Scent of Absinthe and Moringa
Our treasured friends are gone
and with them our patience,
gone who had been alive
in the black core of the heart.
I asked where the riders halted
and knelt their camels.
Amid the scent of absinthe,
they said, and moringa blossoms.
I told the wind to
track them down
in the shade of the thicket
where the wings of their tents were spread,
To bring them greetings
from the brother of grief.
When the tribe scattered,
his heart was torn.
Ibn ‘Arabi (1165-1240)
English Translation by Michael Sells
(used by permission)
VI
Grief Was Between Us
The ring-necked dove cooed.
A sad man yearned,
disquieted
by the echo of her longing.
At the sound of her desire,
eyes welled,
sudden as underground springs
bursting.
She mourned her
only one. I responded.
Loss is the loss
of your one and only.
I called back a cry
but grief was between us.
I revealed myself.
She stayed hidden.
Ibn ‘Arabi (1165-1240)
English Translation by Michael Sells
(used by permission)