A Dionysia, Part 4

Watch on YouTube

A Dionysia, Part 4 is a music video for Leo Brouwer’s Guitar Sonata: La Toccata de Pasquini, with the beginning of a hymn to Pan from The Homeric Hymns translated by Apostolos N. Athanassakis.


Music:

Brouwer, Leo. “Sonata: La Toccata de Pasquini.” Sonatas – Magdalena Kaltcheva. Performed by Magdalena Kaltcheva. NCA, 2006. CD.


Paintings:

painting by Henri Rousseau: The Snake Charmer (1907)
Henri Rousseau. The Snake Charmer. 1907.
<https://www.wikiart.org/en/henri-rousseau/the-snake-charmer-1907>.

painting by Giorgione: Boy with Flute (1508)
Giorgione. Boy with Flute. 1508.
<https://www.wikiart.org/en/giorgione/boy-with-flute-1508>.

painting by Gustave Moreau: The Voices (1867)
Gustave Moreau. The Voices. 1867.
<https://www.wikiart.org/en/gustave-moreau/the-voices-1867>.


Literature:

Athanassakis, Apostolos N., trans.. “To Pan.” The Homeric Hymns. pp. 55-56. © 1976, 2004 Johns Hopkins University Press.  Reprinted with permission of Johns Hopkins University Press.

Sing to me, O Muse, of Hermes’ dear child,
the goat-footed, two-horned, din-loving one, who roams
over wooded glades together with dance-loving nymphs;
they tread on the peaks of sheer cliffs,
calling upon Pan, the splendid-haired and unkempt
god of shepherds, to whose domain all the snowy hills
and mountain peaks and rocky paths fall.
He wanders all over through the thick brushwood,
now drawn to gently flowing streams,
now again making his way through to steep crags
and climbing to the topmost peak overlooking the flocks.
Many times he careers through chalk-white, lofty mountains
and many times he drives beasts onto jutting rocks
and, his keen eye fixed on them, he slays them. Then only at evening
he shouts as he returns from the hunt and on his pipes of reed
he gently plays sweet music. In song he could even outdo
that bird which sits among the leaves at flower-rich springtime
and, pouring forth its dirge, trills honey-voiced tunes.
With him at that time are the clear-voiced mountain nymphs,
dancing with swift feet and singing at some dark spring,
as the echo moans about the mountain peak.
The god glides now here, now there, and then to the middle of the dance,
setting the pace with quick feet. On his back he wears
a bay lynx-skin as his heart delights in the shrill songs
in a soft meadow where the crocus and the fragrant hyacinth
blossom forth and entwine with the grass in fast embrace.