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I look into my glass
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THE LAST MY FLOWER (THE WOLF AND THE WITCH)
Piano solo
Piano Solo - Digital Download SKU: A0.1012709 Composed by Monica Bergo. Contemporar…
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Piano Solo - Digital Download SKU: A0.1012709 Composed by Monica Bergo. Contemporary. Score. 13 pages. Moni Bergo #5742973. Published by Moni Bergo (A0.1012709). Music and song composed by meTHE LAST MY FLOWER (the wolf and the witch) I look at my last flower It loses its scentand I do not know what to do I protect you with warmthof this other story I have to tell creatures alone and desperate many scars heal a witch and a wolf do not know yet that their destinies are to merge and starts this magical storysweet as ancient fable in a forest with no place and no age out of touch and the time is stopped and does not move a breath and the heart, explodes and skip a beat and look you recognize like not having never lost and the wolf that is injured a white rose in red has turned He is bleeding along with drops of pain his red eyes burning with love and the witch instead hides because she isn't beautiful and it is not important nobody in the world has never belonged and a caress he never touched she care and caresses the soul he looks at her and his anger dominates and one year only lasts a moment lost in eternity and the wolf tells tales and the witch makes magic potions and exchange promises useless that the night guard and she will dance will dance naked and the wolf with his heart on his sleevelying by the fire that lights up, so free unobstructed and are reflected in the magic lake and do not feel that cold shiver... not last, do not you feel it too?cold around us Abracadabra !! from caterpillar to butterfly Alakazam !! and I too am beautiful do not you wonder how and why I started to talk to me snow fallsbut we are in August and there is nothing that you find a place this my music speaks for it self this is the strangest tale that is I stop here It will end well I can not tell the end of a love that is not written yet I stop here It will end well in a vacuum and the absence these days my silence and inconstancy in your feeling sthe flower dies already go wolf go stop thinking about her from your pack you will need to return and then runs away witch will if you want to transform changes role an actress who artand you will have new flowers day step into the dark caverns of regret Mix them with potions and transform everything into tears like a cat in the night I try the food in the trashno sun, no light no god here that help me body and spirit dentedas a glass stuckinside my poor heart the memory of a love He never really lived so alive in the mind is my animal instinct that makes me ache while another dream diesthe witch in the lake you slidethe water lapping against the planin his eyes the wolf that is now already far a fairy tale real or invented in between my hidden truth all my stories strange and weird over this skin are now tattooed I watc.
$5.00
4.59 €
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Piano solo
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Monica Bergo
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THE LAST MY FLOWER
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Moni Bergo
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SheetMusicPlus
I look into my glass (for tenor and guitar)
Piano, Voice
Digital Download SKU: HX.365177 By Giles Swayne. Classical. Piano Vocal. 3 pages. P…
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Digital Download SKU: HX.365177 By Giles Swayne. Classical. Piano Vocal. 3 pages. Published by Hal Leonard Europe (HX.365177).
$4.99
4.58 €
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Piano, Voice
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Giles Swayne
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I look into my glass
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Hal Leonard Europe
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SheetMusicPlus
Too Much For Our Thirst (Trombone and Piano)
Trombone and Piano
Piano,Tenor Trombone - Level 4 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1335564 Composed by Alexa…
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Piano,Tenor Trombone - Level 4 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1335564 Composed by Alexander Burdiss. Contemporary. Score and part. 12 pages. Ars Nova Press #921400. Published by Ars Nova Press (A0.1335564). Too Much For Our Thirstby Alexander BurdissArranged for Trombone and PianoDedicated to Courtney CarmackPerformance Time: approx. 7:00This is an adaptation for trombone of a piece originally written for tuba. The Eyes of the Poor from Paris SpleenWritten by Charles Baudelaire, Translated by Arthur Symons Ah! you want to know why I hate you to-day. It will probably be less easy for you to understand than for me to explain it to you; for you are, I think, the most perfect example of feminine impenetrability that could possibly be found. We had spent a long day together, and it had seemed to me short. We had promised one another that we would think the same thoughts and that our two souls should become one soul; a dream which is not original, after all, except that, dreamed by all men, it has been realised by none. In the evening you were a little tired, and you sat down outside a new café at the corner of a new boulevard, still littered with plaster and already displaying proudly its unfinished splendours. The café glittered. The very gas put on all the fervency of a fresh start, and lighted up with its full force the blinding whiteness of the walls, the dazzling sheets of glass in the mirrors, the gilt of cornices and mouldings, the chubby-cheeked pages straining back from hounds in leash, the ladies laughing at the falcons on their wrists, the nymphs and goddesses carrying fruits and pies and game on their heads, the Hebes and Ganymedes holding out at arm's-length little jars of syrups or parti-coloured obelisks of ices; the whole of history and of mythology brought together to make a paradise for gluttons. Exactly opposite to us, in the roadway, stood a man of about forty years of age, with a weary face and a greyish beard, holding a little boy by one hand and carrying on the other arm a little fellow too weak to walk. He was taking the nurse-maid's place, and had brought his children out for a walk in the evening. All were in rags. The three faces were extraordinarily serious, and the six eyes stared fixedly at the new café with an equal admiration, differentiated in each according to age. The father's eyes said: How beautiful it is! how beautiful it is! One would think that all the gold of the poor world had found its way to these walls. The boy's eyes said: How beautiful it is! how beautiful it is! But that is a house which only people who are not like us can enter. As for the little one's eyes, they were too fascinated to express anything but stupid and utter joy. Song-writers say that pleasure ennobles the soul and softens the heart. The song was right that evening, so far as I was concerned. Not only was I touched by this family of eyes, but I felt rather ashamed of our glasses and decanters, so much too much for our thirst. I turned to look at you, dear love, that I might read my own thought in you; I gazed deep into your eyes, so beautiful and so strangely sweet, your green eyes that are the home of caprice and under the sovereignty of the Moon; and you said to me: Those people are insupportable to me with their staring saucer- eyes! Couldn't you tell the head waiter to send them away? So hard is it to understand one another, dearest, and so incommunicable is thought, even between people who are in love!
$9.99
9.16 €
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Trombone and Piano
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Alexander Burdiss
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Too Much For Our Thirst
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Ars Nova Press
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SheetMusicPlus
Солнце (Sun)
Choral SATB
Choral Choir,Choral,SATB Chorus divisi - Digital Download SKU: A0.1418462 Composed …
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Choral Choir,Choral,SATB Chorus divisi - Digital Download SKU: A0.1418462 Composed by Cassy Gress. 21st Century. 10 pages. Cassy Gress #1000029. Published by Cassy Gress (A0.1418462). On April 8, 2024, I had the privilege to be able to view a solar eclipse in totality. I'd previously seen one at around 99% totality, but 100% is a completely different experience. I periodically glanced at the sun in my protective glasses, watching the disc shrink down to nothing, not expecting much other than the absence of a sun. But I looked away for a moment, and my son suddenly cried, It's there!I turned and gasped: the sky was a flat twilight blue, and a crisp brilliant ring glowed in the sky, safe to view with the naked eye. The world was still, strangely silent, alien and new. We all tried to grab as many pictures as we could. After a few minutes, the moon continued its arc across the sky, and the sun's glare abruptly reappeared, already blinding even as a sliver. I can still see that ring in my mind's eye, fiercely burning, as if someone had literally cut a circle out of the sky and exposed another universe behind it.In this piece I tried to capture the growing ominous wonder of an eclipse approaching totality. While the 2024 eclipse was not visible in Russia, the Russian word for sun, Ñолнце (solntse), has a lily-like fragility to it that the English equivalent does not. Various parts of the choir repeat the word throughout the piece, and the repeated ts and s sounds should create a percussive susurrance. Stagger breathing should be used throughout.Also repeated is the Russian word for moon, луна (luna). As the eclipse approaches that crystalline moment of totality, the moon becomes more and more prominent and the text more chantlike. The refrain, first sung by a solo bass at bar 7, and sung in variation by the other parts thereafter, is repeated in its original form once by the sopranos near the top of their range. This represents the sun in final desperate ecstasy, before it too collapses into the inevitability and madness of occultation.After an indefinite sudden pause, the shock of the moment, the choir reverently sings suscipe deprecationem nostram. Glorificamus te. As the moon frees the sun from its cold grip, the menace of the previous section threatens to return, but just as quickly fades, revealing once again Ñолнце в небе (the sun in the sky).
$1.99
1.83 €
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Choral SATB
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Cassy Gress
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Солнце
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Cassy Gress
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SheetMusicPlus
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