Looking more deeply at De Falla's "Siete Canciones"

When I first learned and performed "Siete canciones populares españolas" by Manuel de Falla with the classical guitar, I did not closely consider the words. With my rusty knowledge of Spanish, I knew that the first song, "El paño moruno," had something to do with a cloth that had been stained and was now selling for less in a shop. I didn't know why one would sing about a stained cloth, unless it was a stained dress that made history, but I thought the rhythm was cool, so I focused on that. I also knew that "Asturiana" had something to do with crying (and oddly, also a crying pine tree), and "Nana" was some kind of lullaby. What I did not do was analyze the text, because I thought the words were nonsense, and the songs were more about flamenco dance rhythms. This negligence is inexcusable, however, since a singer should always write out the text of a piece and translate it, line by line and word by word, no matter how proficient she thinks she is in the particular language. One of my favorite singers, Barbara Bonney, has said that when she learns a new piece, she starts with the text. Now I know why.

I. El Paño Moruno (The Moorish cloth): a metaphor for loss of virtue. Or, a 19th-century Spanish local commercial jingle.

The fine cloth in the shop, a stain has fallen on it
For less price it sells now, because it has lost its value.


II. Seguidilla Muriciana: those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Also, get your mule and don't be so fake.

Whoever has a roof made of glass, shouldn't throw stones at his neighbor.
Let us be mule drivers; it could be that we may meet each other on the road.
For your inconstancy, I compare you to a coin (peseta) that runs from hand to hand
And becomes so worn and blurred that people start believing it to be false, and they will no longer take it.

III. Asturiana: sometimes you can get so depressed that you make even the trees cry.

To see whether it would console me, I drew near a green pine.
Seeing me weep, it wept.
And the pine, being green, seeing me weep, wept.

IV. Jota (a flamenco dance): good-bye, windows! good-bye, door!

They say we don't love each other,
Because they never see us talking.
But of your heart and mine, they have only to ask.
Now I bid you farewell, your house and your windows, too.
Even though your mother may not like it,
Farewell, little girl until tomorrow.

V. Nana ("nana" literally means lullaby)

Go to sleep, little child, sleep.
Sleep, my soul.
Go to sleep, little star of the morning.
Lulla-lullaby, lulla-lullaby,
Sleep, little star of the morning.

VI. Canción: jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those peepers?

For being traitors, your eyes, I'm going to bury them
You don't know what it costs, "del aire"
Child, the act of looking at them
"Madre a la orilla"
Child, the act of looking at them, "madre."
They say you don't love me, and you have loved me,
The winner goes away, "del aire,"
For the loser: "madre a la orilla"
For the loser: "madre."

ok, I still don't really understand this one. Those "madre" interjections are some kind of specific expressions in Spanish. Further research is required.

VII. Polo (not the horse game, but another flamenco dance): Ay!!

Ay!
I keep a... (Ay!)
I keep a... (Ay!)
I keep a sorrow in my breast.
I keep a sorrow in my breast
That to no one will I tell.
Wretched be love, wretched.
Wretched be love, wretched.
And he who gave me to understand it!
Ay!

This song cycle is so wonderful for its "Spanish-ness:" the pieces are earthy, passionate, hot, emotional, and sharply rhythmical. I do not claim to be a Flamenco singer, or even a mezzo-soprano (the songs are largely middle voice), but I think they work even in the voice of a Waspy soprano. As long as she goes to that Spanish place in her soul.