Adaptation of the tale “A Noite de Natal” ("Christmas Eve") by Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen

(portuguese version)

Narrador(a):

O amigo

Era uma vez uma casa pintada de amarelo com um jardim à volta. No jardim havia tílias, bétulas, um cedro muito antigo, uma cerejeira e dois plátanos. Era debaixo do cedro que Joana brincava. Joana não tinha irmãos e brincava sozinha. Mas de vez em quando vinham brincar os primos ou outros meninos. Mas estes … faziam troça das suas casas de musgo. E Joana tinha muita pena de não saber brincar com os outros. Só sabia estar sozinha. Mas um dia encontrou um amigo. Foi numa manhã de Outubro. Estava todo vestido de remendos e os seus olhos brilhavam como duas estrelas. Joana ...pensou:
«Parece um amigo. É exactamente igual a um amigo.»
E do alto do muro chamou-o:
— Bom dia!
O garoto sorriu e respondeu:
— Bom dia!
Depois Joana perguntou:
— Como é que te chamas?
— Manuel — respondeu ele.
— Eu chamo-me Joana — disse ela.
— O teu jardim é muito bonito – disse o garoto.
Joana desceu do muro, foi abrir-lhe o portão, e foram os dois pelo jardim fora. Joana mostrou-lhe o tanque e os peixes vermelhos. Mostrou-lhe o pomar, as laranjeiras e a horta. E mostrou-lhe a casa da lenha onde dormia um gato. E mostrou-lhe todas as árvores e as relvas e as flores.
— Aqui, — disse Joana — é o cedro. É aqui que eu brinco.
E sentaram-se sob a sombra redonda do cedro. A luz da manhã rodeava o jardim: tudo estava cheio de paz e de frescura. Às vezes do alto de uma tília caía uma folha amarela que dava voltas no ar. Joana foi buscar pedras, paus e musgo e começaram os dois a construir a casa do rei dos anões. Brincaram assim durante muito tempo.
— Meio-dia — disse o garoto — tenho de me ir embora.
— Onde é que tu moras? — perguntou a Joana.
— Além nos pinhais — respondeu Manuel.
— É lá a tua casa?
— É, mas não é bem uma casa. O meu pai morreu. A minha mãe trabalha todo o dia mas não temos dinheiro para ter uma casa.
— Então à noite onde é que dormes?
— O dono dos pinhais tem uma cabana onde de noite dormem uma vaca e um burro e dá-nos licença de dormir ali também.
— E onde é que brincas?
— Brinco em toda a parte. Pode-se brincar em toda a parte — disse Manuel.
— Mas eu não posso sair deste jardim, – disse Joana – volta amanhã para brincar comigo.
E daí em diante todas as manhãs o rapazinho passava pela rua. Joana esperava-o empoleirada em cima do muro. Abria-lhe a porta e iam os dois sentar-se sob a sombra redonda do cedro. E foi assim que Joana encontrou um amigo. Era um amigo maravilhoso. As flores voltavam as suas corolas quando ele passava, a luz era mais brilhante em seu redor e os pássaros vinham comer na palma das suas mãos as migalhas de pão que Joana ia buscar à cozinha.

A festa

Passaram muitos dias, passaram muitas semanas até que chegou o Natal. E no dia de Natal Joana pôs o seu vestido de veludo azul, os seus sapatos de verniz preto e muito bem penteada saiu do quarto e desceu a escada. Quando chegou ao andar de baixo ouviu vozes na sala grande; eram as pessoas crescidas que estavam lá dentro. Joana foi à sala de jantar e deu uma volta à roda da mesa. Os copos já lá estavam. As velas estavam acesas e a sua luz atravessava o cristal. Em cima da mesa havia coisas maravilhosas e extraordinárias: bolas de vidro, pinhas douradas e aquela planta que tem folhas com picos e bolas encarnadas. Era o Natal.
Então Joana foi ao jardim. Porque ela sabia que nas Noites de Natal as estrelas são diferentes. Muito alto, por cima das árvores, era a escuridão enorme e redonda do céu. E nessa escuridão as estrelas cintilavam, mais claras do que tudo. Joana olhava a imensa felicidade da noite no alto céu escuro e luminoso, sem nenhuma sombra. Depois, Joana voltou para casa e foi à cozinha ver a cozinheira Gertrudes, que era uma pessoa extraordinária porque mexia nas coisas mais quentes sem se queimar e nas facas mais aguçadas sem se cortar, e mandava em tudo, e sabia tudo.
— Gertrudes — perguntou Joana, — Que presentes é que achas que eu vou ter?
— Não sei — disse Gertrudes — não posso adivinhar.
— E achas que o meu amigo vai ter muitos presentes?
— Qual amigo? — disse a cozinheira.
— O Manuel — respondeu Joana.
— O Manuel não. Não vai ter presentes nenhuns.
— Não vai ter presentes nenhuns? Mas porquê, Gertrudes?
— Porque é pobre. Os pobres não têm presentes.
Daí a uns minutos apareceram as pessoas grandes e foram todos para a mesa. Tinha começado a festa do Natal. Havia no ar um cheiro de canela e de pinheiro. Em cima da mesa tudo brilhava: as velas, as facas, os copos, as bolas de vidro, as pinhas doiradas. No fim de jantar levantaram-se todos … e entraram na sala. Da árvore de Natal nascia um brilhar maravilhoso que pousava sobre todas as coisas. Um dos primos puxou-a por um braço e disse:
— Joana, ali estão os teus presentes.
Joana abriu um por um os embrulhos e as caixas: a boneca, a bola, os livros de desenhos a cores, a caixa de tintas. As pessoas grandes sentaram-se nas cadeiras e nos sofás a conversar e as crianças sentaram-se no chão a brincar. Até que alguém disse:
— São horas de as crianças se irem deitar.
Então as pessoas começaram a sair.
A casa ficou muito silenciosa. Joana subiu a escada e foi para o seu quarto. Os seus presentes de Natal estavam em cima da cama.
— Uma boneca, uma bola, uma caixa de tintas e livros. Deram-me tudo o que queria. Mas ao Manuel ninguém deu nada.
Joana pôs-se a imaginar o frio, a escuridão e a pobreza na cabana onde Manuel dormia.
«Que frio lá deve estar!», — pensava ela.
«Que escuro lá deve estar!»
«Que triste lá deve estar!»
- Amanhã vou dar-lhe os meus presentes. — disse Joana.
Foi à janela, abriu as portadas e através dos vidros, espreitou a rua. Ninguém passava.
Ao longe via-se uma grande sombra escura: era o pinhal.
«Hoje», pensou Joana, «tenho de ir hoje. Tenho de ir lá agora, esta noite. Para que ele tenha presentes na Noite de Natal.»
Foi ao armário, tirou o casaco e vestiu-o. Depois pegou na bola, na caixa das tintas e nos livros. Apetecia-lhe levar também a boneca, mas ele era um rapaz e com certeza não gostava de bonecas. Joana desceu a escada, saiu para o jardim, atravessou-o, abriu o portão e saiu para a rua.

A estrela

Quando se viu sozinha no meio da rua teve vontade de voltar para trás. As árvores pareciam enormes e os seus ramos sem folhas enchiam o céu de desenhos iguais a pássaros fantásticos. E a rua parecia viva. Não se viam pessoas, só se viam coisas. Mas Joana tinha a impressão de que as coisas a olhavam e a ouviam.
«Para que lado ficará a cabana? Como é que hei-de encontrar o caminho?» - perguntava ela.
Então viu que no céu, lentamente, uma estrela caminhava. E começou a seguir a estrela.
Já no meio do pinhal pareceu-lhe ouvir passos. O barulho dos passos aproximava-se. Até que viu surgir entre os pinheiros um vulto muito alto que vinha ao seu encontro. O vulto parou na sua frente e ela viu que era um rei.
— Boa noite — disse o rei. — Eu chamo-me Melchior. Onde vais sozinha a esta hora da noite?
— Vou com a estrela. — disse Joana.
— Também eu, também eu vou com a estrela. — disse o rei.
Continuaram e de novo ela ouviu passos. E um vulto surgiu entre as sombras da noite.
— Boa noite. Chamo-me Joana e vou com a estrela.
— Também eu — disse o rei —, também eu vou com a estrela e o meu nome é Gaspar.
Continuaram e mais uma vez Joana ouviu um barulho de passos e um terceiro vulto surgiu entre as sombras azuis e os pinheiros escuros.
— Boa noite. O meu nome é Joana. E vamos com a estrela.
— Também eu caminho com a estrela — disse o rei — e o meu nome é Baltasar.
E continuaram a caminhar. Até que chegaram ao lugar onde a estrela tinha parado, por cima de um casebre sem porta. E Joana viu o seu amigo Manuel. Estava deitado nas palhas entre a vaca e o burro e dormia sorrindo.

Coro SATB:
A estrela
Eu caminhei na noite
entre silêncio e frio
só uma estrela secreta me guiava (…)

______________________________________

(english translation)

Narrator:

a friend

Once upon a time there was a yellow house with a large garden all around it. In the garden there were linden and birch trees, a very old cedar, a cherry tree and two maples. It was below the cedar that Joana played. She had no brothers or sisters and so she played by herself. Once in a while her cousins or other kids would come and play with her. But they, made fun of her moss houses. Joana felt sorry she didn't know how to play with other children. She only knew how to play by herself. But one day she found a friend. It was on an October morning. His clothes were mended and his eyes sparkled like two stars. Joana thought:
“He looks like a friend. He looks exactly like a friend.”
From a high wall she called to him:
— Good morning!
The boy smiled and responded:
— Good morning!
Then Joana asked him:
— What's your name?
— Manuel — he answered.
— My name is Joana — she said.
— Your garden is very beautiful — said the boy.
Joana came down from the high wall and opened the gate and they both went walking thru the garden. Joana showed him the fountain and the red fish. She showed him the orchard, the orange trees and the vegetable garden. She showed him the woodshed where a cat was napping. And she showed him all the trees, grasses and flowers.
— Here, — pointed Joana — is the cedar. Its here where I play.
And they sat under the round shade of the cedar. The garden was bathed by the morning light. Everything was fresh and peaceful. Sometimes, from high up on the linden tree, a yellow leaf would fall and circle through the air. Joana gathered stones, sticks and moss and they started building a house for the king of the elves. They played like that for a long time.
— Twelve o'clock! — said the boy — I must go!
— Where do you live? — asked Joana.
— There in the pine forest — answered Manuel.
— Your house is there?
— Yes, but its not really a house. My father died, my mother works all day but doesn't have enough money for a house.
— Then at night where do you sleep?
— The owner of the pine forest has a hut where his cow and donkey sleep, he lets us sleep there as well.
— And where do you play?
— I play everywhere! — said Manuel — You can play everywhere!
— But I can't leave my garden, — said Joana — come play with me again, tomorrow.
And from that day on, every morning Manuel would walk by Joana's house where she would be waiting, on top of the wall. She would then open the gate and they would go sit in the round shade of the cedar. And thats how Joana found a friend. He was a marvelous friend. The flowers would turn their petals when he passed by, the light was much brighter around him and the birds would eat from his hand the bread crumbs that Joana could gather in the kitchen.


a feast

Days passed, weeks passed and then it was Christmas. On Christmas eve, Joana put on her blue velvet dress, her black varnish shoes and with her hair well combed, she left her bedroom and went downstairs. On the ground floor, she heard voices coming from the large living room, the grown ups had arrived. Joana went to the dining room and walked around the dinner table. The glasses were on the table, the candles were lit and shinned through the crystal. There were wonderful things on top of the table: glass balls, golden pine cones and that plant that has spiky leaves and little red balls. It was Christmas eve.
Then Joana went out to the garden. She knew the stars were different on Christmas night. Very high above the trees was the enormous and round darkness of the sky. In that darkness, the stars sparkled brighter than all else. Joana looked at the immense happiness of the night in the shadowless dark and luminous sky. Then she returned inside and went to the kitchen to speak with Gertrud, the cook, an extraordinary person because she could touch extremely hot pans without burning her fingers and she could work with the sharpest knives without cutting herself, and she could tell everyone what to do, and she knew everything.
— Gertrud, — Joana asked — what presents do you think I will get?
— I don't know! — said Gertrud — I can't guess.
— Do you think my friend will have lots of presents?
— Which friend? — asked the cook.
— Manuel! — answered Joana.
— Manuel? No! He won't get any presents.
— No presents?! But why? — asked Joana.
— Because he is poor and poor children don't receive presents.
Some minutes later the grown-ups appeared and everyone went to the table. Christmas eve feast had begun. In the air was the aroma of cinnamon and pine. Everything sparkled on top of the table: the candles, the knives, the glasses, the glass balls and the golden pine cones. After dinner everyone stood up and went into the living room. The Christmas tree projected a marvelous glow that settled over all things. One of Joana's cousins pulled her by the arm:
— Joana, there are your presents!
She opened one by one, each package and box: a doll, a ball, coloring books and crayons. The grown-ups sat on the chairs and sofas, talking, while the children sat on the floor and played. Until someone said:
— Its time for the children to go to bed.
And the grown-ups started to leave. The house became silent. Joana went upstairs to her bedroom. Her presents were on top of the bed.
— A doll, a ball, coloring books and crayons. I got everything I wanted. But Manuel has no presents.
She tried to imagine the cold and darkness in the hut, and how poor Manuel was.
— It must be really cold — she thought.
— It must be really dark.
— It must be really sad.
— Tomorrow... I will give him my presents.
She went to the window, opened the shutters, and through the glass she looked out at the road. No one was passing by. In the distance she saw a large dark shadow: it was the forest.
— Today! — Joana thought — I must go today! I must go there now, tonight. This way he will have presents for Christmas.
She went to the closet, took out a jacket and put it on. Then, she grabbed the ball, the coloring books and crayons. She thought about taking the doll, but Manuel was a boy and probably didn't like dolls. Joana went downstairs, out onto the garden, crossed it, opened the gate and stepped out onto the road.


a star

Once she found herself alone in the middle of the road, she had the urge to turn back. The trees looked enormous and their bare branches filled the sky with images of fantastic birds. The road looked alive. She saw no one, just things. But Joana had the impression that those things were looking at her and listening to her.
— Which way is the hut? How will I find the way? — she asked herself.
Then, she saw a star in the sky, slowly heading in the direction of the forest. She began following the star. When she reached deep into the forest she heard footsteps. The sound of the footsteps was getting closer. Then she saw a very tall figure coming towards her between the pines. The figure stopped in front of her and she realized it was a king.
— Good evening, — said the king — my name is Melchior. Where are you going alone at this time of the night?
— I'm following the star — said Joana.
— Me too! I'm also following the star — said the king.
They continued on and again, Joana heard footsteps. Another figure emerged from the shadows in the night.
— Good evening! My name is Joana and I am following the star.
— Me too! — said the second king — I am also following the star and my name is Gaspar.
They continued on and once again, Joana heard the sound of footsteps and a third figure emerged from the blue shadows and dark pines.
— Good evening! My name is Joana. We are following the star.
— Me too! — said the third king — I am following the star and my name is Balthasar.
And they continued on together.
Until, they reached a place where the star stopped, above a hut, with no door. Joana saw her friend Manuel inside. He was lying on a bed of hay between a cow and a donkey, sleeping and smiling.

SATB Choir:
The star
I walked in the night,
between silence and cold,
just one secret star guided me.

mezzo-soprano Alexandra Montano
alto sax José Massarrão
cello Miguel Ivo Cruz
accordion Pedro Miguel
piano Afonso Malão

Tormenta e Harmonia is subtitled “overture, dances and aria” and was written for the choreographer Hillel Kogan

Sung in Portuguese
Poem by Alexandra Montano

Eu sou

Eu sou mulher e sou divina
Sou criatura de sonho e poesia
Quando as minhas coxas se movem
A terra inteira estremece.
Eu sou laranja do Sol
E turquesa da água
De pernas fortes para bailar
Para carregar minhas filhas por onde seja.
Sou para ti noite fresca
E sou dona das estrelas
Sou para ti tua égua selvagem
E sou rainha de todas as brisas.
Eu sou mulher e sou divina
Sou criatura de calor e terra
Sou criatura de sonho e poesia
Sou criatura de amor e vida.
Eu sou mulher e sou divina
Sou criatura de tormenta e harmonia.

(English translation)
I am

I am a woman and I am divine
I am a creature of dream and poetry
When my hips move
The whole earth trembles.
I am orange from the sun
And turquoise from the water
With strong legs for dancing
And to carry my daughters wherever.
I am for you your cool evening
I am ruler of the stars
I am for you your wild mare
I am the queen of all breezes.
I am a woman and I am divine
I am a creature of heat and hearth
I am a creature of dream and poetry
I am a creature of love and life.
I am a woman and I am divine
I am a creature of torment and harmony.

A fascinating and skillful musical mix where various references are crossed (baroque dances, traditional Portuguese music, fado, jazz...) in a subtle and humorous manner. The last section, where the wonderful voice of Alexandra Montano introduces a dream like atmosphere, appears displaced in relation to the character of the previous sections, but, musically, it is a beautiful moment...

Público - Lisbon, May 2, 1999

Live performance at Expo 98, Lisbon, Portugal

mezzo-soprano Alexandra Montano
alto sax Rui Gabriel
percussion Elizabeth Davis
piano Afonso Malão
cello Miguel Ivo Cruz
bass Luís Sousa

Oda al Mar is a group of five songs, with instrumental interludes, based on texts by Pablo Neruda (Odes to the earth, air, fire and sea). It was written for the Fred Darsow Dance Company.

Oda al la tierra (excerpt)

Arida Tierra, mano
sin signos en la palma,
a ti te canto,
aquí no diste trinos
ni te nutrió la rosa
...
a ti te canto
porque el hombre
te hará parir, te llenará de frutos,
...
estrella negra,
a ti te canto.
...
Tierra, me gustas
en la arcilla y la arena,
te levanto y te formo,
como tú me formaste,
y ruedas de mis dedos
voy a volver a tu matriz extensa.
Tierra, de pronto
me parece tocarte
en todos tus contornos
de medalla porosa,
...
y en tu forma paseo
mis manos
hallando la cadera de la que amo,
los pequeñitos senos,
el viento como un grano
de suave y tibia avena
y a ti me abrazo, Tierra,
...
(el agua brota,
el fuego hierve,
el viento lleva)
...
y a ti me abrazo, Tierra,
la tierra entierra rosas.
Tierra de los desiertos,
línea pura,
A ti las escrituras de mi canto
porque pareces muerta
y te despierta
el ramagazo de la dinamita,
y en un penacho de humo sangriento
anuncia el parto
y saltan los metales hacia el cielo.
A ti me abrazo,
Tierra,
...
(el agua busca,
el fuego canta,
el viento lleva,)
...
A ti me abrazo,
Tierra,
junto a ti, duermo,
en tu cintura se atan mis brazos y mis labios,
duermo contigo y siembro mis más profundos besos.

Oda al aire (excerpt)
Andando en un camino 
encontré al aire, 
lo saludé y le dije 
con respeto: 
“Me alegro 
de que por una vez 
dejes tu transparencia, 
así hablaremos”. 

Él incansable, 
bailó.
...
Yo le besé su capa 
de rey del cielo,
...
y le dije: 
monarca o camarada, 
hilo, corola o ave, 
no sé quien eres,
pero 
una cosa te pido, 
no te vendas. 

...
Él incansable, 
bailó.
movió las hojas.
...
No, aire, 
no te vendas, 
que no te canalicen, 

que no te entuben, que no te encajen,
...que no te metan en una botella, 
cuidado!
llámame 
cuando me necesites, 
yo soy el poeta hijo 
de pobres,
...hermano de todos.

Oda al fuego (excerpt)
Descabellado fuego,
Enérgico,
Ciego y lleno de ojos,
Deslenguado,
Tardío, repentino,

Estrella de oro,
Ladrón de leña,
Callado bandolero,
Cocedor de cebollas,
Célebre pícaro de las chispitas,
Perro rabioso de un millón de dientes,
Óyeme,
Centro de los hogares,
Rosal incorruptible,
Destructor de las vidas,
Celeste padre del pan y del horno,
Progenitor ilustre
De ruedas y herraduras,
Polen de los metales,
Fundador del acero,
Óyeme fuego.
Arde tu nombre,
Da gusto
Decir fuego,
Es mejor
Que decir piedra
O harina.
Las palabras son muertas
Junto a tu rayo amarillo,
Junto a tu cola roja,
Junto a tus crines de luz amaranto,
Son frías las palabras.
Se dice fuego,
Fuego, fuego, fuego,
Y se enciende
Algo en la boca:
Es tu fruta que quema,
Es tu laurel que arde.

Oda al mar (excerpt)
Aquí en la isla
el mar, el mar,
y cuánto mar
se sale de sí mismo
a cada rato,
dice que sí, dice que sí,
que no, que no, que no, que no,
dice que si, en azul,
en espuma, en galope,
dice que sí, que no.
No puede estarse quieto,
me llamo mar, repite
me llamo mar, mar,
pegando en una piedra
sin lograr convencerla,
pegando en una piedra
sin lograr convencerla,
sin lograr convencerla,
entonces
con siete lenguas verdes
de siete perros verdes,
de siete tigres verdes,
con siete lenguas verdes,
de siete tigres verdes,
con siete lenguas verdes,
de siete mares verdes,
la recorre, la besa,
la humedece
y se golpea el pecho
repitiendo su nombre.

Quatro Elementos (excerpt from Oda al la fertilidad de la tierra)
La tierra entierra rosas
el viento lleva
el fuego hierve y canta
el agua brota y busca

Oda al Mar can be heard as a cantata for mezzo-soprano and instrumental group, combining stravinskian influences with aspects of the minimalist idiom, marked by it’s rhythmic liveliness and a discourse which mixes the classical-popular coordinates, creating a stimulating no man’s land. In this well crafted work, there are real finds in the instrumental writing and the discourse is at times irresistible.

Público - Lisbon, September 2, 1998

Live performance at the Kitchen in New York City

mezzo-soprano Alexandra Montano
violin Marka Gustavsson
accordion Anne DeMarinis
piano Margaret Kampmeier
bass Richard Sosinsky

 Written for the Fred Darsow Dance Company

Texts by Satu Hummasti

Hours like veils
Why did I linger and fall, wearing the hours like veils?
I've longingly curved for your hand bearing the hours like veils.
I've waited.
I let you come up to me late in the night when love held your eyes, bright as stones.
I fell when I reached for you faded in dark when love fled your eyes cold as stones,
but I'll eat those stones before I cry, I'll eat those stones alone.

I see her waiting every night as the grocer pulls his fruits inside,
she's staring down the street,
I see her waiting every night,
in the pressure of the hours she sits there staring down the street as he brings another flowers.
But she'll eat those stones before she cries, she'll eat those stones alone.

I left when the first light quietly fell finding the street by dawn,
I'll go through the corridor in the dark, and find the street by dawn.
I dreamt of a body carried on my back, the body was my own, I flung it from my skin.
I dreamt of a ship easing into sand tall and full of flight urging me to go, urging me.
I threw my body from my back, I threw me on the deck and left.

In the mirror in the hall I saw the place I left I saw the place I'll always leave fading in the glass.
In the mirror in the hall a stranger urges me to leave and love and always leave to fade into the glass.
I see you in a pool of light fading in the glass.

Flicked in the night by a wind my dress falls and falling does not find you.
In the wind I rise and falling do not find you.
Night held me close like a ghost holds skin I fold into the night.
How will I ever sleep again?
I remember your hand on my waist I fold into the night.
When will I ever sleep again?
Some devil keeps me wide awake waiting for the sun.

I slept and had a dream so sweet a body in a field of wheat.
I wake into the dark alone, gentle in this place and seized, quiet in this place and seized. Some devil keeps me wide awake waiting for the sun.

If I had never seen despair, I would not know you, but you are not a stranger, I feel your skin.

In the mirror in the hall I saw the place I left I saw the place I'll always leave fading in the glass.
In the mirror in the hall a stranger urges me to leave and love and always leave to fade into the glass. I see you in a pool of light fading in the glass.

I've known

I've known, I've known the dead stop night, the humid air, your body next to mine.
I've known the sweet of summer vine curving through the air.
I've heard the perfume running down the street.
The smoke I've seen build up between the walls, the suffocating fire searing through the hall.
I've known, I've known the dead stop night, waiting at each ticking of the clock, no body next to mine.

violin James Crawford
piano Jane Hawkins

Cernicalo is subtitled “bailes Andaluces” and was written for the Fred Darsow Dance Company

Cernicalo, a violin score of throbbing intensity composed by Eugénio Rodrigues, fared best in its simplicity.

The New York Times - New York, NY August 16, 1993