En abril no llueve
soprano, ensemble and electronics2019
premiered by Amanda DeMaris, Simone Mancuso and ACME
En abril no llueve was written for the Arizona Contemporary Music Ensemble (Simone Mancuso, director) and soprano Amanda DeMaris for the 2019 PRISMS festival at Arizona State University.
The work is based on the following poem by Nicaraguan poet and playwright Lourdes Chamorro César. This was written as a lament for the students that were killed by the Sandinista government during the protests of April, 2018. The victims’ killers have not yet been brought to justice.
En abril no llueve
En abril no llueve
pero la tierra que la pala removió al cavar la tumba de mi hijo
aquel abril
estaba húmeda.
Mis lágrimas fueron.
Y llegó un nuevo abril
y pasó de largo...
Y todo sigue igual
aunque ya nada es igual...
La tierra que lo guarda
sigue húmeda.
Tanto así que
han brotado flores alrededor de su nombre grabado en el cemento blanco.
Y mi niño amado
sigue ahí
sin respirar...
Con el hoyo de la asesina bala en su cráneo
Con el hoyo de la asesina bala
en su tórax
O en su cuello
O con su indefenso cuerpo todo agujereado
Pero
¡No pudieron agujerearle el alma!
En abril no llueve...
Mas la tumba de mi muchacho está siempre florecida.
Lourdes Chamorro César
2 de mayo de 2019
En abril no llueve
pero la tierra que la pala removió al cavar la tumba de mi hijo
aquel abril
estaba húmeda.
Mis lágrimas fueron.
Y llegó un nuevo abril
y pasó de largo...
Y todo sigue igual
aunque ya nada es igual...
La tierra que lo guarda
sigue húmeda.
Tanto así que
han brotado flores alrededor de su nombre grabado en el cemento blanco.
Y mi niño amado
sigue ahí
sin respirar...
Con el hoyo de la asesina bala en su cráneo
Con el hoyo de la asesina bala
en su tórax
O en su cuello
O con su indefenso cuerpo todo agujereado
Pero
¡No pudieron agujerearle el alma!
En abril no llueve...
Mas la tumba de mi muchacho está siempre florecida.
Lourdes Chamorro César
2 de mayo de 2019
In April, it doesn’t rain
In April, it doesn’t rain
but the dirt that the shovel excavated while digging my son’s grave
that April
is wet.
Thanks to my tears.
A new April has come
and gone…
And everything remains the same
even though now nothing is the same...
The earth that holds him
is still wet.
So much so that
flowers have sprouted around his name
carved in the white cement.
And my dear boy
is still there
not breathing…
With the hole of the murderous bullet in his skull
With the hole of the murderous bullet
in his thorax
Or in his neck
Or his helpless body punctured.
But
they could not puncture his soul!
In April it doesn’t rain…
But my boy’s tomb is always
in bloom.
Lourdes Chamorro César
May 2, 2019
In April, it doesn’t rain
but the dirt that the shovel excavated while digging my son’s grave
that April
is wet.
Thanks to my tears.
A new April has come
and gone…
And everything remains the same
even though now nothing is the same...
The earth that holds him
is still wet.
So much so that
flowers have sprouted around his name
carved in the white cement.
And my dear boy
is still there
not breathing…
With the hole of the murderous bullet in his skull
With the hole of the murderous bullet
in his thorax
Or in his neck
Or his helpless body punctured.
But
they could not puncture his soul!
In April it doesn’t rain…
But my boy’s tomb is always
in bloom.
Lourdes Chamorro César
May 2, 2019