#vanamee

[tromroan]

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An aria that ideally would be sung by a baritone. From an short opera I am composing. Vanamee is singing about his true love who was murdered 16 years ago. He has not gotten over it.   She came to me from out the flowers, the smell of roses in her hair of gold, that hung in two straight plaits on either side of her face. The reflections of violets in the profound dark blue of her eyes. the aroma and the red of the carnations of her lips, the fullness of her lips, the whiteness of the lilies,  perfume of the lilies, lilies of her neck. The folds of her dress, the scent of poppies, poppies, her hands of heliotrope, her feet of hyacinth, this chaos of perfume... From the seed ranch!

Angele!

here by the bench we had often sat, here by the crumbling sun-dial... I recall the night when I kissed her for the first time! Here again by the rim of the fountain - with its fringe of green she once had paused... and bearing her arm to the shoulder,  thrust it deep into the water and gave it to me to kiss, to kiss... Here at last! Here at last... Under the shadows of the pear trees we sat, evening after evening... Looking out over the valley below, watching the night... This garden of dreams!