Myrkvun
Myrkvun was commissioned by the Rocky Mountain Chorale with special thanks to the Boulder Arts Commission.
Iceland has been an inspiration for me in many ways. It is a unique island with beauty everywhere you look: the landscape, culture, language, and arts (among other things) are all special and captivating. Two visits to the island and a great love of the choral tradition and compositional aesthetics that have flowered here are among my chief inspirations for writing this work.
Myrkvun sets three poems on the seasons by celebrated Icelandic poets Steingrímur Þorsteinsson and Kristján Jónsson. While musical cycles on the seasons often conclude with spring (Vivaldi’s Four Seasons is a notable exception), this work takes a different approach. In Iceland, the seasons contrast intensely, especially with regard to daylight. At the height of summer, the sky never fully darkens, while the depth of winter brings complete darkness. Focusing on the progression from the warmth and radiance of summer to the biting cold and darkness of the winter, Myrkvun takes listeners on the emotional journey of summer’s departure and the subsequent descent into winter. This journey is not only conveyed in the imagery and overall affect of each poem, but also represented through the
A recording of this work will be available soon!
I. Sumarnótt
Steingrímur Þorsteinsson
Sólu særinn skýlir,
Síðust rönd er byrgð,
Hýrt á öllu hvílir
Heiðrík aftankyrð.
Ský með skrúða ljósum
Skreyta vesturátt,
Glitra gulli og rósum,
Glampar hafið blátt.
Stilt með ströndum öllum
Stafar vog og sund,
Friður er á fjöllum,
Friður er á grund;
Heyrist fuglkvak hinzta,
Hljótt er alt og rótt,
Hvíl nú hug minn insta,
Himnesk sumarnótt!
The sun hides the sea,
Its last edge veiled,
Gentle calm rests on all,
In the evening’s serene embrace.
Clouds with radiant hues
Adorn the western sky,
Glinting with gold and rose,
The sea sparkles blue.
Stillness graces every shore,
The bays and straits aglow,
Peace rests upon the mountains,
Peace rests upon the ground.
The final birdsong echoes,
All is hushed and still,
Rest now, my innermost mind,
Celestial summer night!
II. Haust
Kristján Jónsson
Allt fram streymir endalaust,
ár og dagar líða;
nú er komið hrímkalt haust,
horfin sumars blíða.
Fölna grös, en blikna blóm,
af björkum laufin detta;
dauðalegum drynur óm
dröfn við fjarðar-kletta.
Everything flows forward endlessly,
years and days pass;
now frosty autumn has come,
the gentleness of summer gone.
The grass fades, the flowers pale,
leaves fall from the birches;
a deathly rumble echoes,
the surf against the fjord cliffs.
III. Vetur
Steingrímur Þorsteinsson
Hvar eru fuglar þeir á sumri sungu?
Þeir suður flugu brimótt yfir höf.
Hvar eru blómin sæl frá sumri ungu?
Und snjónum hvíla þau í vetrar gröf.
Hvað er nú söngva? vindgnýr hærri og hærri
um fölnað land, en þung með drunuhljóð.
Þar þögull sjófugl þyrpist brimströnd nærri,
hinn þrúðgi gýmir kveður stirðan óð.
Svo dvelji söngfugl hver einn fyrir handan
og hylji fönnin blómið hvert sem dó.
Vér eigum sumar innra fyrir andann,
þá ytra herðir frost og kyngir snjó.
Where are the birds that sang in summer?
They flew southward across the seas.
Where are the flowers blissful from summer?
Under the snow they rest in winter’s grave.
What is a song now? The wind roars louder and louder
across the faded land, heavy with a thundering sound.
There, a silent seabird flocks near the storm’s shore,
The heavy gull bids farewell with a faltering song.
Then each songbird lingers afar,
And the snow covers each bloom that has passed.
We carry summer in our spirits,
while outside frost hardens and swallows the snow.
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