Sometimes all it takes is a word, a single note, a chord, an image, a rhythmic or melodic motive, as the starting point for a whole musical work. Other times, the work is born out of a conjugation of multiple factors, ideas and interests. Pietà is of the later kind. It mixes the art of Paula Rego, the poetry of Miguel Torga, and the mountains of Lousã, a small town in central Portugal where I was born and currently live.
The idea for this work began when in 2003 I discovered the pastel drawings by Paula Rego for the Chapel of the Belém Palace, official residence of the Portuguese President, commissioned by the then President, Jorge Sampaio. In those works, Paula Rego depicts moments in the life of Mary of Nazareth, mother of Jesus, in a hiper-natural style with figures from today. At that moment I thought of composing a kind of “stabat mater” in the same spirit as the drawings, each section, in some way representing each of the eight drawings. I began looking for appropriate texts, which took me to the poetry of Miguel Torga. However the project was put to the side and only recently, after returning to Lousã, where there is a sanctuary and cult following of “Our Lady of Piety”, did I complete the work as a tribute to my ancestors who built that sanctuary on a hill of schist stone and deep green moss, hidden in the middle of the mountains.
Pietà, also the title of Miguel Torga's poem, is the first of the eight sections that I completed, the other sections await the conjugation of other factors to join Pietà.

Pietà

Vejo-te ainda, Mãe, de olhar parado,

Da pedra e da tristeza, no teu canto,

Comigo ao colo, morto e nu, gelado,

Embrulhado nas dobras do teu manto.

Sobre o golpe sem fundo do meu lado

Ia caindo o rio do teu pranto;

E o meu corpo pasmava, amortalhado,

De um rio amargo que adoçava tanto.

Depois, a noite de uma outra vida

Veio descendo lenta, apetecida

Pela terra-polar de que me fiz;

Mas o teu pranto, pela noite além,

Seiva do mundo, ia caindo, Mãe,

Na sepultura fria da raiz.

Lisboa, Cadeia do Aljube, Natal de 1939 - Como se fosse ainda em S. Pedro de Roma

Miguel Torga (Do livro: Diário X, s/editora, 1966, Coimbra)

I first came across the text I selected for this work, as an anonimous Latin quote at the beginning of a novel. At the time, it impressed me so much that I jotted it down in one of my notebooks. I forgot the novel but remembered the quote. 

Intrigued by it, I decided to find its author, and the work it had come from. As I typed the first words of the poem in my search engine, it appeared: Catullus 5. The author, Gaius Valerius Catullus, a Latin poet of the late Roman Republic who wrote poetry about personal life rather than classical heroes. 

Catullus 5 is a passionate ode and one of the most famous poems by Catullus. 

Sung in Latin

Excerpt of a love poem by latin poet Catullus (ca. 84–54 BC)

Soles occidere et redire possunt;
nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
Da mi basia mille.

English translation:

Suns are able to set and return;
once the brief light sets,
we must sleep one perpetual night.
Give me one thousand kisses.

Mulher

Vejo uma pequena chama, mas muito brilhante, no horizonte dentro do meu coração de vidro coberto de gelo. Vejo uma mulher de cabelo selvagem que ilumina a minha noite, os seus pés beijam a terra com cada passo, o seu vestido transparente é o companheiro dos ventos, ela chama-me com os seus olhos de fogo e com sua voz de madeira curtida pelas ondas e lágrimas. A lua faz brilhar a sua pele, e o seu peito de frutos maduros oferece vida e descanso, protecção e coragem, prazer e inspiração. Suas mãos tocam-me suavemente, atravessam o meu corpo para chegar à minha alma. Quando lá chegam, aromas de flores e de mar salgado intoxicam-me até me fazerem cantar e dançar, cantar e amar.

Woman

I see a small flame, but very bright, in the horizon inside my heart of ice covered glass. I see a woman with wild hair that lights my night, her feet kiss the earth at each step, her transparent dress is company to the winds, she calls me with her fiery eyes and her wooden voice cured by the waves and the tears. The moon shines on her skin, her breasts made of ripe fruits offer life and rest, protection and courage, pleasure and inspiration. Her hands touch me softly, they penetrate my body to reach my soul. When they arrive, the aroma of flowers and the salty sea intoxicate me and make me sing and dance, sing and love.

(translation to english by the composer)

(Unpublished. With permission from the author to reprint and set to music.)

Introduction
Imagine you are walking in a garden and you find a fairy singing, a dancer amongst the trees, animals hiding behind the bushes and a poet writing in his tower. The audience are spread throughout the garden watching and following the action. They can hear the singing and music through wireless headphones. The musicians are in an enclosed space nearby, not visible to the audience until the end. 

The opera Oriana was conceived to be presented on stage (concert hall or theater) or outdoors (in a park, a botanical garden, or a forest) with the help of some technology. This performance concept has been used in other opera presentations and it allows opera to be presented outdoors with acoustic quality, to the point that one can hear a whisper from a singer in the distance. 

The libretto was extracted from the children's tale The Fairy Oriana, by Portuguese author Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen (1919-2004), which serves as the basis for the outdoor performance possibility, mirroring the atmosphere where the story takes place. 

Oriana has a duration of 47 minutes, with an optional break, and was composed in the spirit of Maurice Ravel's, L'enfant e les surtilèges, aiming to be an opera for all ages. 

Singers:
Oriana - soprano (soubrette)
Queen of the Good Fairies/and of Bad Fairies - mezzo soprano
Fish/Spider - tenor
Poet - baritone
Narrators - treble voices (minimum 3)
Old Lady/Snake - contralto

Choreographer/Dancer (minimum 1)


Musicians:
a) piano
b) chamber ensamble

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.

by Henry van Dyke (1852-1933)

If all the skies were sunshine
our faces would be fain
to feel once more upon them
the cooling plash of rain.

If life were always merry
our souls would seek relief
and rest from weary laughter
in the quiet arms of grief.

If all the world were music
our hearts would often long
for one sweet strain of silence
to break the endless song.

Arrangement of Portuguese folk song from Aljezur, Alentejo

Sung in Portuguese

Deus te salve ó Rosa. Claro serafim
pastora formosa que fazes aqui?

Estou guardando o meu gado que eu aqui deixi.

Deixai vosso gado que eu o guardarei
quero ser vosso criado linda flor meu bem.

Não quero criados de meias de seda.

Sapato e meia tudo romperei
para ser vosso criado linda flor meu bem.

Vá-se já embora não me dê mais penas.

Menina tão ingrata menina tão rigorosa
ficai-vos com deus pastora formosa.

O amor é louco já me vai vencendo.

Venha cá menina não é com má intenção
é para falar um pouco como seu irmão.

Se eras meu irmão eu cá não sabia.
Perdoai-me tudo quanto eu te dizia.

Sung in Spanish

Text by Pablo Neruda, from the book Canto General, Capitulo XV, poem XVIII “El vino”

Vino de primavera… Vino de otoño, dadme
mis compañeros, una mesa en que caigan
hojas equinocciales, y el gran río del mundo
que palidezca un poco moviendo su sonido
lejos de nuestros cantos. Soy buen compañero.

No entraste en esta casa para que te arrancara
un pedazo de ser. Tal vez cuando te vayas
te lleves algo mío, castañas, rosas o
una seguridad de raíces o naves
que quise compartir contigo, compañero.

Canta conmigo hasta que las copas
se derramen dejando púrpura desprendida
sobre la mesa. Esa miel viene a tu boca
desde la terra, desde sus oscuros racimos.

Cuántos me faltan, sombras del canto, compañeros
que amé dando la frente, sacando de mi vida
la incomparable ciencia varonil que profeso,
la amistad, arboleda de rugosa ternura.

Dame la mano, encuéntrate conmigo,
simple, no busques nada en mis palabras
sino la emanación de una planta desnuda.

Por qué me pides más que a un obrero? Ya sabes
que a golpes fui forjando mi enterrada herrería,
y que no queiro hablar sino como es mi lengua.
Sal a buscar doctores si no te gusta el viento.

Nosotros cantaremos con el vino fragoso
de la tierra: golpearemos las copas del otoño,
y la guitarra o el silencio irán trayendo
líneas de amor, lenguaje de ríos que no existen,
estrofas adoradas que no tienen sentido.

Child Soprano Elvira de Paiva

I was born in the city of Coimbra and grew up in Lousã, 30km from the city. From an early age I was fascinated by the Coimbra, its history, its legends, its myths and places. The great love story of Pedro and Inês, associated with the legend of the Fountain of Tears, is the first theme I decided to treat musically. It al began far from the shores of the Mondego River, on the other side of the Atlantic, at Duke University Library. There I found a book that served as my road map for the journey: Inês de Castro, Um Tema Português na Europa, by Maria Leonor Machado de Sousa, Edições 70. With this book I was introduced to the Trouas by Garcia de Resende, Castro by António Ferreira, I re-read Os Lusiadas, Canto III, by Camões, and I descovered a latin poem, De Agnetis Caede, by André de Resende. In this poem, André de Resende creates many of the elements and images that António Ferreira and Camões would later imitate, in their works on the same theme, “as was acceptable and common practice at the time”, according to Maria Leonor de Sousa.

I chose the poem by André de Resende, in latin, as the text for a lament on the death of Inês, which I titled
Fontis Amorum, from the last line of the poem. From the 24 stanzas of the poem I chose numbers 3, 21 and 24, whose main element is water in the form of the river, the fountain and tears.

Stanza number 3 evokes the fields on the shores of the Mondego River and the memory of Pedro. Stanza 21 speaks of the green fields, the rivers and valleys crying over the death of Inês. Stanza 24, the last stanza of the poem, describes the transformation of the tears, wept for Inês' companions, into a natural spring which they named ‘Fontis amorum’, the fountain of love.

Sung in Latin
De Agnetis Caede, by André de Resende (1498-1573)

Pulchra iucundis fruebare, Virgo,                      Beautiful Virgin, you were enjoying the
Fructibus Mondae recreantis agros,                 sweet fruits of the Mondego, as it revived the fields,
Edocens flores resonare clarum                       teaching the flowers to re-echo
Nomen Amantis.                                                    the name of your lover.

Antra plorarunt viridesque luci,                         The caverns and green groves bewailed her,
Et piis fatum lacrimis acerbum                          and the valleys wept with tender tears,
Flere convalles sonituque rauco                       over her harsh fate; with raucous sound
Flumina flerunt. the rivers wept.

Virginis mortem sociae gementes                    The virgin’s friends, mourning her unjust death,
Impiam tristes lacrimis in undam                      to their tears that had turned into
Candidam versis, posuere nomen                    a fair spring, gave the name
‘Fontis amorum’.                                                   ‘Fountain of Love’.

On a pier two musicians accompany Penelope in her farewell to Ulysses, as she begins to prepare her yarn.

Sung in Portuguese
Excerpt from the poem Ithaca by the greek poet Konstantinos Kavafis (1863-1933) translated to Portuguese by Jorge de Sena

Quando partires de regresso a Ítaca,
deves orar por uma viagem longa,
plena de aventuras e de experiências.
Ciclopes, Lestregónios, e mais monstros,
um Poseidon irado – não os temas,
jamais encontrarás tais coisas no caminho,
se o teu pensar for puro, e se um sentir sublime
teu corpo toca e o espírito te habita.
Ciclopes, Lestregónios, e outros monstros,
Poseidon em fúria – nunca encontrarás,
se não é na tua alma que os transportes,
ou ela os não erguer perante ti.

Deves orar por uma viagem longa.
Que sejam muitas as manhãs de Verão,
quando, com que prazer, com que deleite,
entrares em portos jamais antes vistos!

Em colónias fenícias deverás deter-te
para comprar mercadorias raras:
coral e madrepérola, âmbar e marfim,
e perfumes subtis de toda a espécie:
compra desses perfumes quanto possas.
E vai ver as cidades do Egipto,
para aprenderes com os que sabem muito.
Terás sempre Ítaca no teu espírito,
que lá chegar é o teu destino último.
Mas não te apresses nunca na viagem.
É melhor que ela dure muitos anos,
que sejas velho já ao ancorar na ilha,
rico do que foi teu pelo caminho,
e sem esperar que Ítaca te dê riquezas.

Ítaca deu-te essa viagem esplêndida.
...

(English translation)

When you set out for Ithaka
ask that your way be long,
full of adventure, full of instruction.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - do not fear them:
such as these you will never find
as long as your thought is lofty, as long as a rare
emotion touch your spirit and your body.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - you will not meet them
unless you carry them in your soul,
unless your soul raise them up before you.
Ask that your way be long.
At many a Summer dawn to enter
with what gratitude, what joy -
ports seen for the first time;
to stop at Phoenician trading centers,
and to buy good merchandise,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensuous perfumes of every kind,
sensuous perfumes as lavishly as you can;
to visit many Egyptian cities,
to gather stores of knowledge from the learned.
Have Ithaka always in your mind.
Your arrival there is what you are destined for.
But don't in the least hurry the journey.
Better it last for years,
so that when you reach the island you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to give you wealth.
Ithaka gave you a splendid journey.

...

English translation by unknown