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Pantoum 1: Sunset
A setting of a pantoum written by my wife, Maggie, for soprano and piano quartet
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Words: Margaret Hardy/Music: Glenn Hardy
2007 Hardymuse Productions
Chamber Music
Fri Mar 21, 2008
Classical : Contemporary
2007 Hardymuse Productions
Chamber Music
Fri Mar 21, 2008
Classical : Contemporary
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Charts position
» highest in charts: # 282 (31,051 songs currently listed in Classical)
» highest in sub-genre: # 73 (6,987 songs currently listed in Classical > Contemporary)
» highest in sub-genre: # 73 (6,987 songs currently listed in Classical > Contemporary)
About the song
This is a live recording from a performance at the Tarrytown Music Hall, Tarrytown, NY on January 19, 2008. Performers are Erika Sunnegardh, soprano, and the New York Piano Quartet
Lyrics
SUNSET (A PANTOUM)
The sun is setting in the west,
An artist’s pigments stain the sky,
Their gentle colors bring us rest:
I cannot, will not tell you why.
An artist’s pigments stain the sky,
Brightly blooming flowers of night;
I cannot, will not tell you why
Their colors give us such delight.
Brightly blooming flowers of night
Growing in an artist’s dream,
Their colors give us such delight:
These flowers are not what they seem.
Growing in an artist’s dream,
In some lovely skyward garden,
These flowers are not what they seem,
They who never beg our pardon.
In some lovely skyward garden
They dance, and dream, and laugh and bloom,
They who never beg our pardon,
And fill with scent our secret rooms.
They dance, and dream, and laugh and bloom,
Their gentle colors bring us rest,
And fill with scent our secret rooms;
The sun is setting in the west.
The sun is setting in the west,
An artist’s pigments stain the sky,
Their gentle colors bring us rest:
I cannot, will not tell you why.
An artist’s pigments stain the sky,
Brightly blooming flowers of night;
I cannot, will not tell you why
Their colors give us such delight.
Brightly blooming flowers of night
Growing in an artist’s dream,
Their colors give us such delight:
These flowers are not what they seem.
Growing in an artist’s dream,
In some lovely skyward garden,
These flowers are not what they seem,
They who never beg our pardon.
In some lovely skyward garden
They dance, and dream, and laugh and bloom,
They who never beg our pardon,
And fill with scent our secret rooms.
They dance, and dream, and laugh and bloom,
Their gentle colors bring us rest,
And fill with scent our secret rooms;
The sun is setting in the west.
