Lyell Cresswell: The Harp SangText: Fiona FarrellThe harp sang. The harp sang. The harp sang as the city falls. The harp kept its head to the wall. Listen to my broken song, sang the harp. Listen to the beauty, the beauty of broken things. I am wood and gut. Trees made me Trees and the bodies of wild cats. Hey! Said the harp as the floor jumped. Hey! Hey! A jig! The cups and plates are tapping their feet. Once round and mind the dresser. Harps make fine companions in disaster. You can float on a harp as the ship goes down. Harps make fine companions in disaster. You can hold on to a single string, Find your way through a broken city. Harps make fine companions in disaster. Lyell: “When Helen asked me to write a piece, my immediate thought was to write for harp and voice - working with Fiona Farrell. I have only ever written for the harp in the orchestra before so it was great to have the opportunity to write for solo harp. The words have told me what notes to write.” Fiona Farrell is a novelist and poet who lives at Otanerito on Banks Peninsula. |
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