Song of Exile
SATB choir, SA youth choir, string quintet, and tabla
*Part 2 coming soon
Part 1 – 13:36 approx.
Song of Exile is a setting of text by Iranian-born poet, playwright, and librettist Sholeh Wolpé. Poetry and music have the capacity to carry our histories, longings, and dreams. Together, they can create a bridge between people and cultures where we can meet and truly see one another. Through this collaborative creation, we are able to create a space where we encounter the pain of loss (represented by the adult choir) dissolving into hope (represented by the youth choir) and culminating in pride in the cultural heritage immigrants contribute to their adopted communities.
This work was commissioned by the Arlington Chorale and their artistic director, Ingrid Lestrud. The tabla part was written for and in collaboration with Hamid Habib Zada. The world premiere was given in the UU Church of Arlington on June 2023.
Song of Exile
by Sholeh Wolpé
Adults and Youth
We who left home, ran
towards blackthorn walls,
children who crossed boundaries,
torn by its thousand serrated tongues;
we who bear scars that bloom and bloom
beneath healed skins
who have we become?
Beh keh bá-dál sho-deh-eem? (به که بدل شدهایم؟)
Adults
Khäneh dán-däneest ghäyeb (خانه دندانیست غایب)
Home is a missing tooth.
The tongue reaches for hardness
but falls into absence.
Absence.
Will we go back one day?
Rub our cheeks against our old house door.
Will it open its timbre arms
widen its wooden jaw? Let us in.
Or will it creak shut, slam, betray?
Loss is a language we all speak well,
a body-moan that echoes between ribs.
Home is a missing tooth.
Youth
Home is the beat of your heart.
Khäneh dár tápesh-eh ghálb ást (خانه در تپش قلب است )
Carry seeds from home in your mouths.
Plant turmeric, cardamom, and saffron.
Water them with your grandmothers’ songs.
They will grow, they will,
against these blackthorn walls.
Adults
We are shoreless lakes, skirt-less mountains.
Our scars bloom and bloom beneath healed skin.
Hours fall backward
into our eyes,
into our souls.
The sun will burn us in exile.
Youth
The sun will give you daisies.
It will give you groves of pear.
Adults
Our scars bloom and bloom beneath healed skin.
Youth
Your downfall is your windfall.
Home is the beat of your heart.
Khäneh dár tápesh-eh ghálb ást (خانه تپش قلب است )
Carry seeds from home in your mouths.
Plant turmeric, cardamom, and saffron.
Water them with your grandmothers’ songs.
They will grow, they will,
against these blackthorn walls.
Adults
Against these blackthorn walls.
Our downfall is our windfall.
We will root into fields
with our grandmothers’ songs.
Adults and Youth
What is a transplanted tree
but a time being
who has adapted to adoption?
We are seeds in the wind.
Turmeric, cardamom, and saffron.
We sing our grandmother’s songs.
Loss is a language we all speak well.
It is a downfall that becomes windfall.
Seeds in the wind.
We will grow against all blackthorn walls.
Khäneh dár tápesh-eh ghálb ást (خانه تپش قلب است )
We carry home in the beat of our hearts.