Jesús Guridi
1886
–1961
Born in the Basque
province of Alava, Guridi came from a talented musical family. His creative
gifts were nurtured through a rigorous training, which took him to Paris, in
1904 and later Brussels, Liege and Cologne. In 1908 he returned to Spain and
worked as an organist and chorus director in Bilbao.
As a composer, vocal
music was his priority and like Turina he was both a nationalist and a
regionalist. His operas were internationally famous and his nine stage works
included Zarzuelas based on Basque themes and customs. His compositions brought
world attention to the wealth of Basque folk songs and dances, evoking the
valleys and mountains in his 22 Basque Folksongs.
He wrote the Seis Canciones Castellanas in 1936, using folk material,
which he had compiled for a film score for Jacinto Benavente’s drama “La
Malquerida”. The film’s premiere was postponed because of the Civil War. The
originality and charm of these songs are considered second only to De Falla’s
Siete Canciones Populares Españolas.
Click on the blue links to hear my recording
How do you expect me to
guess
If you are awake or asleep?
Since no angel descends
From heaven to tell me!
How do you expect me to
guess?
Joy
and more joy shall be ours,
Pretty
dove, when you are mine.
When
you will be mine, pretty dove?
My
little bunch of laurel.
When
I go to the hills to gather firewood,
Olé
ya, my love,
And
I am caught in a thicket,
And
I see the white snow,
Olé
ya, my love,
I
remember your beauty.
I
would like for a while
To
be the link in your earring,
To
whisper in your ear,
What
I feel in my heart.
I
count the stars,
Olé
ya, my love,
To
see which one it is that pursues me.
I
am pursued by a morning star,
Olé
ya, my love,
Small
but constant.
Joy and more joy shall be
ours,
Pretty dove, when you are
mine.
When you will be mine, pretty
dove?
My little bunch of laurel.
I do not want your
hazelnuts
Nor your gillyflowers.
For they have turned out to
be empty,
The promises you made,
As I fetched water from the
fountain.
Since they were words of
love,
The water bore them away,
The crystal clear water,
Down to the fountain,
Where you gave me your word
To be mine until death.
High up on that mountain,
I picked a cane, I picked a
carnation.
A ploughman, a ploughman,
My lover must be.
I do not want a miller,
Who loves in corn measures.
I want a ploughman,
To take the mules to
plough!
And at midnight, to
serenade me.
Enter ploughman!
If
you come to see me,
Come
through the farmyard,
Climb
up the orange tree,
You’ll
be safe.
Enter
ploughman!
If
you come to see me!
©Copyright Helena Kean
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