Even as the Manoel Theatre has just put up Gluck’s iconic Orphee et Eurydice, Richard England is finalising a 200-poem anthology revolving around the theme of the two lovers.
The book comes with an introduction by poet and Ground Zero architect Daniel Libeskind and includes visuals by Emilio Ambasz, Antoine Predock, Franco Purini and the late Victor Pasmore. Line drawings by England’s granddaughter Christina Darmanin also embellish the publication, together with two portraits of Orpheus and Eurydice by his daughter Sandrina.
We are here reproducing four poems as a preview to the publication.
Haunt me with your music
ORPHEUS
matador of music
haunt me with your music
taunt me with your song
you who with your lyre
unveiled the sorrow of the dark
and
unfurled the brilliance of the stars
as
the gold of your voice gilds the
hallways
of
Hades
I
savour the sound of your song
sense its tamarisk texture
and
beg
you
my
beloved
to
relinquish the mask of my anguish
colour the winds of my shade
and
release
me
from
the shackles of my mortal sleep.
The singer she kept in her heart
As
the sky flayed its stars in sorrow
she descended the ladders of loss
vertigos of tension chilled her soul.
There
deep
in
the
depths
of
Hades
in shadowed tapestries of reverie
in mandarin midnights of dream
she kept the echo of his song in
her mind
but
the singer she kept in her heart.
Where is your music now?
She
a
nymph of the forest
of
beauty uncompared
too soon in nuptial union
condemned by Stygian spirits
passed to the dungeons of the dark.
He
a
poet of the lyre
of
vocal tone sublime
when florid strains he sang
the rapture of his song
even nature did disarm.
Agonised and tortured
at the taking of his spouse
a luring chant he pines
for
the loved one he had lost
then no longer able
to bear this parting pain
he trails the tracts
of
HADES
imploring her return
his canticle of craving
a poem more powerful than a prayer.
The radiance of his song
illumes this penal realm
the music thaws the furnace
of
the anguish of the damned
and
as
once more
he intones his prayer
the judges of the dead
assenting to his plea
allow their captive free.
“Back to the realm of the living
she may indeed return
but as you lead her homeward
cast not your glance on her
when the rays of sunlight
caress once more her face
only then may you behold
the beauty of your bride.”
As he starts his journey
straddling the ascent
through arduous rite and passage
towards xanthic noontide light
she in darkness follows
his lyre treble tones
and
as they neared the sunlight
it seemed that love had won.
But
doubting
Stygian
covenant
and
unable to delay
he
turns to set his gaze
on her fair and fragrant frame
his eyes her fleeting vision
for
an instant did behold
then in pain and sorrow
he watched her slip away.
Then
too well he knew
that he again had lost her
this time forever more.
The song now is extinguished
the dulcet tones are mute.
Magician of the Muses
where is your music now?
Our paths may cross again
Vesperal
winds from her tombstone
rekindle
my
grief
and
as
solitude extends sorrow
her shadow and her shade
rise to shed
anguish
on
my
grieving soul
inflame
the bloodstream in my veins
and
augment
the
longing in my heart.
Yet
still
I
believe
that
one
day
in
the topographical coordinates of
somewhere
and
the calendrical chronology of
sometime
our paths may cross again.