Chan Hing-Yan

Quotation of Queries 蘇問


I. 前奏






II. 幽人









III. 桓伊三弄


新⽉愁煙去還留 。


落花⾶絮送⾏⾈ 。


IV. 誰説東坡老










V. 忘卻營營




⼈似⾶鴻來有信 ,






何如? 占得⼈間⼀味愚!













I. Prelude


What do you think human life is like here or there?

What is human life like?

What is it like?


II. The Hermit


From a sparse plane tree hangs the waning moon;

The water clock is still and hushed is man.

Who sees a hermit pacing up and down alone?

Is it the shadow of a swan?

Startled, he turns his head,

as maple leaves are falling into the frosty Wu River.


III. Huanyi’s Three Farewell Tunes


The new moon and the gloomy mist ebb and flow.

Who is performing Huanyi’s three farewell tunes?

Falling petals and flying catkins see the sailing boat off.


IV. Who Says that Dongpo is Old?


Who says that Dongpo is old?

Who laughs at me for turning my hair grey so early?

Don’t be upset by the rooster’s hastening crow!

Aging is not confined to me in this world!

Who says that Dongpo is old?

Who laughs at me for turning my hair grey so early?

I’ve said that I’m not old at all!


V. Ignore the Encumbrance


Ignore the encumbrance!

When can I just ignore the encumbrance?

Old friends like autumn swans keep punctually the date;

The bygones like spring dreams have left no traces here.


Ignore the encumbrance!

When can I just ignore the encumbrance?

If you ask me what my talents are,

Oh, they are no more than a handful of mediocrity!


Ignore the encumbrance! Ignore the encumbrance!

Listen not to the rain beating against the trees.

Why don’t you slowly walk and chant at ease.


When can I just ignore the encumbrance?

Drums beat thrice in the night so deep,

Even a leaf falls with sound so loud,

A tired wanderer being so far from home,

Gloomily, I awake from my dream!

John Browne

The Suppliant Women






O Zeus

God of sanctuary grant us asylum

We are Women of Egypt,

Neighbours of Syria,

Who dug our toes into the soft sand

at the mouth of the Nile,

And pushed our boat into the sea, to flee.

O Zeus!


We didn’t flee from famine,

feud or flood,

blood or crime,

But from men,

The unholy sons of King Aegyptos,

to whom we’re force-betrothed.

Our cousin men, four dozen men,

Who want to marry us

They disgust us.

O Zeus!


Danaos, our father, planned it for us,

He plotted the game well, and led us

Across the great sea-board

Till we landed here, on our ancestral shore

Argos! Argos!

And what better city to take us in than this?

Argos! Argos!


Long, long ago

In the gorgeous, green pasture,

Our ancestral mother

Io was singing,

And you Zeus, you saw her

And wanted to take her, you wanted to fill her,

With breath and with touch

But Hera, your wife,

In this very same meadow,

Turned joyous Io

From girl into cow.


O Zeus!

Sea fleeing is hard

But ah it was glorious

To give ourselves up to the waves

And be blown,

thrown, spun, stung,

burned, smashed, crashed

and spat out


On the shingled shore of Argos, Argos.


Land of Io!

Take us in.

Rocks of Argos!

Take us in.

Rivers! Trees!

Take us in.

Ghosts of Argos! Furies! Muses!

Take us in. Take us in.

Gods of Argos!

Take us in.


We come to you begging, a boat-load of women,

Armed only with these, our suppliant branches.

You guided our boat here, you gave us beach breezes

And now Zeus, we need your protection again.

Soon we’ll see, on the horizon,

A ship full of rape, a swarm full of violence

A ship full of man-imals, hungry for girl-flesh,

Howling like hounds and chasing us down.

Smash them with storms, Zeus, beat them with waves,

Blast them with thunder, crack up their crime-ship,

Bind them with seaweed, before they bind us.



Ode 2




Io! Io!


O Zeus

Most blessed king of blessed kings,



Mighty wave of power,

Use your force to

Stop male violence.


Take the hearts of men

And plunge them

Into a lake of blood,

Forever tether

The bull of madness

To which men yoke their souls.


O Zeus,

Look kindly on the woman’s side,

Remember Io.

You loved her,

She lived here

Long ago

In that beautiful story.

Remember her


She belonged to you.

We belong to you


You cradled her with gentle strength

Blew life back inside her

Til she felt so safe she could let fall

All the grief she’d borne

All the tears and shame and sorrow

All fell away

Until in peace

She could at last let fall

A calf Epaphos

Blameless baby

Dropped Into the warm mud of the Nile.


O that calf was a happy calf

All through his long and lucky life,

Which is why Egyptians say

We’re children of Lord Zeus Protector

For Zeus it was who fathered us

From that gentle child of Egypt

Born beside the Nile’s waters.


Oh Zeus.

There’s no one above you

What you want, happens.

Furious Zeus

You made us.

And you can do


Furious Zeus!



Ode 3




Come, let us offer a praise-prayer to Argos,

Praise, for they give us the gift of asylum.

Zeus, god of suppliants, let our girl-voices

Sing out the truth.

Argos is good!


May war never fall here,

May fields here never burn,

May the graves here never eat up

The flesh of her sons,

For the people of Argos took pity,

Pity on us pitiful birds

And voted us shelter.


They didn’t vote to protect male power.

They didn’t vote to undermine women.

They saw Zeus

On their roof,

Heavy Zeus,

Waiting to see if they did the right thing,

And they did.

The conscience of Argos is clean and it’s pure.


May the old men of Argos

Always light altars,

May the city be ordered

And always be holy,

Your land full of farmers,

The hands of your midwives

Always full of new life.


And don’t let Ares,

Bloodthirsty Ares,

God of war,

Bring war

Cry war,

That God who hates all music,

The God who hates all dance,

Bring war

Cry war.


May her poets be brilliant,

May their hymns all be holy,

And may her politicians

Act always with honour

Protecting Argos,

Consulting together,

And always respect

The rights of a stranger.


May the old ways of Argos

always be honoured.

Since reverence for custom,

for women and suppliants,

Are the three strong pillars

that hold up justice!



3rd Amoibaion




Ho ho ho ho

Ha ha ha ha

Ho ho ho ho

Ha ha ha ha
















We will fight you, men of shit.








When we shout, we wake the gods.





I see. There must be a dance

before the work of violation.




Ah ah ah ah

Come to us, you Argive farmers!

Save us all, these men are monsters.

Wolves on the land and sharks at sea!

King Pelasgos, please protect us!




Ai ai ai ai!

Hurry! Hurry! To the barges.

Fast as pretty feet will take you.

Won’t there, won’t there

Be hair pulling,

Holding, gripping, dragging, branding?

Hurry! Hurry!

Damned women.

Hurry! Hurry!

To the barges!

Won’t there, won’t there

Be beheadings?

Don’t be disobedient now!




I wish you’d sunk!

I wish you’d died!

In salty seas on your crap ship!

Why couldn’t the lovely waves expunge you!

Salty death on your crap ship!




To the barges! To the barges!

Damned women board the boats!

If you do not cease your shouting

We will beat you!

Barges, now!




We will never go to Egypt,

We will never see the Nile.

Nile feeds the pigs before us.

Pigs before us – stinking vile.




We are powerful as the sea

Deep! Deep! Deep! Deep!

We will take you like a wave

Deep! Deep! Deep! Deep!

You will be on barges with us.

Ship! Ship! Ship! Ship!

This is how we solve a problem,

Force! Force! Force! Force!

What you want no longer matters

You are lovely, hair and dresses

Come to meet our fists, your masters.

Fists! Fists! Fists! Fists!




Ai! ai! ai! ai!

Why can’t you die!

Die from the punch of a salt fist.

Body washed up on a lost beach

Syrian wind in your papery skin.

Ai! Ai! Ai! Ai!

Why can’t you die!




Shout! Dance! It makes us happy.

Shout! Dance! Call your gods.

Shout! Dance! When we whip you.




You blasphemer, you are filthy

Maggoty meat-men

Rats in a drain-men

Never the Nile will see you again–men!





To the ships now, as I tell you,

You, don’t dawdle, standing there

You look pretty, better hurry.

Dragging is no respecter of hair.




Ot ot ot ot ot ot – oi oi!

The temple is destroyed,

Spider coming. Spider dragging

Down to the beach with the boys, boys.

Ot ot ot ot ot ot - oi oi!

O gods of earth, destroy,

These terrible, pitiful boys,

We are to be their toys.

Ot ot ot ot ot ot – oi oi!




Don’t pray, too late, it’s done.

Your gods won’t stop our fun.

They’re not our gods, they’re Greek gods.

We disrespect each one.




Ot ot ot ot ot ot – oi oi!




Stop talking and come or there will be ripping.

These sailors’ rough hands won’t respect your fine clothing.

Don’t leave yourself open to beating and stripping.




Snake on two feet

Spitting his poison

Ready to strike us.

Will his bite hurt?




Forget about Argos. Forget about voters.

The Sons of Aegyptos are your masters now.

Do not resist anything, we’ll treat you specially,

If you submit to us all will be well.




Voters of Argos, we’re taken!







Let’s go to the city now, glorifying

The gods of the city now, glorifying

You people who live in the city of Argos,

Welcome us kindly.

No more will you hear of us

Praising the Nile

Welcome us in. Welcome us in.

Now all our love is for the river Erasinos

Flowing so calm through meadows of Argos,

Filling her fields with all her children.

You people who live in the city of Argos,

Welcome us in.




Girls, all we wish for you is blessings and marriage.



Aphrodite, take pity,

Don’t force us to wed.

Leave us chaste we beg you,

We’ll marry, we promise,

One day when we’re dead.




Girls, wait,

It’s not wise to

Bait Aphrodite.

She’s equal to Hera,

Second only to Zeus.

She whispers the words we yearn to obey.

Subtle and clever,

Longing brings ache and desire for union.

Goddess of love,

She cuts the paths where all our love affairs run

Til Harmony strikes a note deep in our souls,

Goddess of love.





O Zeus, dear lord, deprive us

Of marriage to men we hate!

You healed and freed our ancestor Io,

Now show us that same kindness -

We pray to you, O Zeus;

Give equal power to women

And from this blessing let justice flow.

Johannes Brahms

11 Zigeunerlieder (Gypsy-Songs), Op.103 (excerpts)


I. He, Zigeuner, greife in die Saiten ein


He, Zigeuner, greife in die Saiten ein,

spiel das Lied vom ungetreuen Mägdelein!

Laß die Saiten weinen, klagen, traurig bange,

bis die heiße Tränen netzet diese Wange!


VII. Kommt dir manchmal in den Sinn


Kommt dir manchmal in den Sinn,

mein süßes Lieb,

was du einst mit heilgem Eide

mir gelobt?

Täusch mich nicht, verlaß mich nicht,

du weißt nicht, wie lieb ich dich hab,

lieb du mich, wie ich dich,

dann strömt Gottes Huld auf dich herab.


VIII. Horch, der Wind klagt in den Zweigen


Horch, der Wind klagt in den Zweigen traurig sacht;
süßes Lieb, wir müssen scheiden: gute Nacht!
Ach, wie gern in deinen Armen ruhte ich!
Doch die Trennungsstunde naht,

Gott schütze dich.


Dunkel ist die Nacht, kein Sternlein spendet Licht;
süßes Lieb, vertrau auf Gott und weine nicht!
Führt der liebe Gott mich einst zu dir zurück,
bleiben ewig wir vereint in Liebesglück.


V. Brauner Bursche führt zum Tanze


Brauner Bursche führt zum Tanze
sein blauäugig schönes Kind,
schlägt die Sporen keck zusammen,
Csardas-Melodie beginnt;
küßt und herzt sein süßes Täubchen,
dreht sie, führt sie, jauchzt und springt!
Wirft drei blanke Silbergulden
Auf das Cimbal, daß es klingt.





Ho, gypsy, strike your strings,

play the song of the faithless girl!

Let the strings weep and wail in anxiety and despair,

'til hot tears moisten this cheek!




Do you sometimes recall in your mind,

my sweet love,

what you once vowed to me

with a sacred oath?

Do not deceive me, do not leave me,

you do not know how much I love you,

love me as I love you,

then God’s grace will pour down on you.




Hark, the wind wails softly and sadly in the branches;
sweet love, we must part: good night!
Ah, I would gladly stay in your arms!
But the hour of parting approaches,

may God protect you.


The night is dark, no tiny star sheds its light;
sweet love, trust in God and do not weep!
Loving God will lead you back to me one day,
and we will remain united in love’s bliss forever.




A swarthy lad leads his beautiful
blue-eyed girl to the dance,
boldly clicks his spurs together,
a Csardas melody begins;
he kisses and caresses his sweet loved one,
whirls her, leads her, shouts and leaps!
Throws three shining silver guilders
on the cymbal so that it rings.

Francis Poulenc

Chansons françaises (excerpts)


I. Margoton va t’a liau


Margoton va t’a liau avec que son cruchon.

La fountaine était creuse, elle est tombée au fond:

Aïe, aïe, aïe, aïe se dit Margoton.

Par la passèrent trois jeunes et beaux garçons.

Que don’rez-vous la belle qu’on vous tir’ du fond?

Tirez d’abord, dit-elle, après ça nous verrons.

Quand la bell’ fut tirée commence une chanson.

Ce n’est pas ça la bell’ que nous vous demandons.

C’est votre petit coeur savoir si nous


Mon petit coeur, messir’s, n’est point pour greluchons.


II. La belle se siet au pied de la tour


La belle se siet au pied de la tour

Qui pleure et soupire et mène grand dolour.

Son père lui demande;

fille, qu’avez-vous?

Volez-vous mari ou volez-vous seignour?

Je ne veuille mari, je ne veuille seignour,

je veuille le mien ami qui pourrit en la tour.

Par Dieu, ma belle fille alors ne l’aurez vous,

car il sera pendu demain au point du jour.

Père, si on le pend, enfouyés moi dessous:

Ainsi diront les gens, ce sont loyales amours.


III. Pilons l’orge


Pilons l’orge, pilons l’orge,

pilons l’orge, pilons la.

Mon père m’y maria,

pilons l’orge, pilons la,

a un villain m’y donna,

tirez vous ci, tirez vous ça.

Qui de rien ne me donna,

pilons l’orge, pilons la,

Mais s’il continue cela,

pilons l’orge, pilons la,

battu vraiment il sera,

tirez vous ci, tirez vous la.

Pilons l’orge pilons l’orge,

pilons l’orge, pilons la.


IV. Clic, clac, dansez sabots


Clic, clac, dansez sabots

et que crèvent les bombardes!

Clic, clac dansez sabots,

et qu’éclatent les pipeaux.

Mais comment mener la danse

Quand les belle n’y sont pas?

Allons donc quérir les filles,

ben sur qu’il n’en manqu’ra pas?

Ben l’bonjour messieux et dames,

Donn’rez vous la bell’ que v’la?
Les fill’s c’est fait pour l’ménage

et pour garder la maison.

Ouais mais pour fair’ mariage

vous faudra ben des garçons.

Vous n’en avez point fait d’aotre,

vous patronne et vous patron

Allez donc ensemble au diable,

ça s’ra ben un débarras.

Ah! Patron et vous patronne,

qu’on s’embrasse pour de bon.


VIII. Les tisserands


Les tisserands sont pir’ que les évèques,

Tous les lundis ils s’en font une fête

Et tipe et tape et tipe et tape

Est-il trop gros, est-il trop fin

Et couchés tard, levés matin,

En roulant la navette le beau temps


Tous les lundis ils s’en font une fête

Et le mardi ils ont mal à la tête.

Le mercredi ils vont charger leur pièce.

Et le jeudi ils vont voir leur maîtresse.

Le vendredi ils travaillent sans cesse.

Le samedi la pièce n’est pas faite.

Et le dimanche il faut de l’argent, maître.





Margoton went to the water with her small jug.

The well was deep and she fell to the bottom.

“Oh dear, dear, dear, dear,” cried Margoton.

Three handsome young lads passed by.

“What would you give us if we pull you out, my beauty?”

“Pull me out first,” she said, “then we shall see.”

When she was pulled out, she began to sing.

“That’s not what we had in mind, my


“We want to know if we may have your little heart.”

“My little heart, sirs, is not for fancy men.”




The beautiful maid sat at the foot of the tower,

crying, sighing and carrying on in great distress.

Her father asked her,

“Daughter, what’s the matter?”

“Do you want a husband, or do you want a lord?”

“I don’t want a husband, I don’t want a lord,

I want my true love who lies rotting in the tower.”

“Good Lord, my girl, you can’t have him,

for he is to be hanged tomorrow at dawn.”

“Father, if he is to be hanged, bury me beneath the spot,

then people will say, ‘that was true love’.”




Grind the barley, grind the barley,

grind the barley, grind it.

My father married me off

grind the barley, grind it.

He gave me to a nasty man

tug it here, tug it there.

Who has given me nothing

grind the barley, grind it.

But if he continues in that manner,

grind the barley, grind it.

I’ll really give him a beating

tug it here, tug it there.

Grind the barley, grind the barley,

grind the barley, grind it.




Click, clack!  Dance, clogs,

till the bagpipes burst!

Click, clack!  Dance, clogs,

till the reed-pipes split.

But how can we lead the dance

without any pretty girls here?

Let us go and fetch the girls

and be sure not to miss any.

“Good day ladies and gents,

will you give me the pretty maid here?”

“Girls are made for cleaning

and keeping the house.”

“Yes!  But for making a marriage

you need many lads.”

“Haven’t you made any others like her

sir and madam?”

“To the devil all of you!

That will be a good riddance.”

“Ah!  Sir and madam,

let us embrace each other for the sake of friendship.”




The weavers are worse than bishops,

every Monday they celebrate.

And tip and tap and tip and tap,

is it too thick, is it too thin,

go to bed late, get up early,

keep the shuttle rolling and the good times will

come around.

Every Monday they celebrate

Tuesday they have a headache.

Wednesday they load their loom.

Thursday they go to see their mistress.

Friday they work all day.

Saturday the cloth is definitely not made.

And on Sunday, we want our money, master.

Chan Kai-Young

Two Cantonese Works


Under the Mid-Autumn Moon

水調歌頭 (Seui Diu Go Tau)


明月幾時有?(Ming yut gei si yau?)

把酒問青天。(Baa jau man ching tin.)

不知天上宮闕,(Bat ji tin seung gung kyut,)

今夕是何年。(gam jik si ho nin.)

我欲乘風歸去,(Ngo yuk sing fung gwai heui,)

又恐瓊樓玉宇,(yau hung king lau yuk yu,)

高處不勝寒。(gou chyu bat sing hon.)

起舞弄清影,(Hei mou nung ching ying,)

何似在人間?(ho chi joi yan gaan?)

轉朱閣,(Jyun jyu gok,)

低綺戶,(dai yi wu,)

照無眠。(jiu mou  min.)

不應有恨,(Bat ying yau han,)

何事長向別時圓?(ho si cheung heung bit si yun?)

人有悲歡離合,(Yan yau bei fun lei hap,)

月有陰晴圓缺,(yut yau yam ching yun kyut,)

此事古難全。(chi si gu nan chyun.)

但願人長久,(Daan yun yan cheung gau,)

千里共嬋娟。(chin lei gung sim gyun.)



When will the moon be bright and clear?

Raising my wine glass, I ask the dark blue sky.

In the palace of heaven,

which season is it now?

Much as I want to ride the wind back to the palace,

I fear the pagodas of jade and mansions of crystal,

which are unbearably lofty and cold.

Dancing with my moonlit shadow,

how can I remain part of the mundane world?

The turning moonbeam is shed on the rouge mansion,

hanging upon the silk-padded window,

shining over the sleepless.

The moon should have no resentment,

but why is it always full in parting moments?

Humans have their time of sorrow and joy, parting and reunion,

the moon has its time of dimness and brightness, waning and waxing,

imperfections pervade all since the beginning of time.

May we be blessed with longevity,

a thousand miles apart as we may be, we could still share the beautiful full moon.


The Crane Releasing Pavilion

放鶴亭記 (Fong Hok Ting Kei)


鶴飛去兮,西山之缺,(Hok fei heui hai, sai saan ji kyut)

高翔而下覽兮擇所適。(gou tseung yi haa lam hai jaak so sik)

翻然斂翼,宛將集兮,(Faan yin lim yik, yun jeung jaap hai)

忽何所見,矯然而復擊。(fat ho so gin, giu yin yi fuk gik)

獨終日於澗谷之間兮,(Duk jung yat yu gaan gok ji gaan hai)

啄蒼苔而履白石。(deuk tsong toi yi lei baak sek)

鶴歸來兮,東山之陰。(Hok gwai loi hai, dong saan ji yam)

其下有人兮,黃冠草屨,(Kei haa yau yan hai, wong gun tsou geui)

葛衣而鼓琴。(got yi yi gu kam)

躬耕而食兮,(Gung gaang yi sik hai)

其餘以汝飽。(kei yu yi yu baau)

歸來歸來兮,(Gwai loi gwai loi hai)

西山不可以久留。(sai saan bat ho yi gau lau)




Away! Away! My birds, fly westwards now

To wheel on high and gaze on all below

To swoop together, pinions closed, to earth;

To soar aloft once more among the clouds

To wander all day long in sedgy vale;

To gather duckweed in the stony marsh

Come back! Come Back!

Beneath the lengthening shades,

Your serge-clad master stands,

Guitar in hand.

‘Tis he that feeds you from his slender store:

Come back! Come back!

Nor linger in the west.

Ronaldo Miranda

Suíte Nordestina

I. Morena bonita


Morena bonita,

o que vem vê?

O sol nasceu, virou, pendeu…


II. Dendê trapiá


Coco Dendê trapiá

Tá no jeitinho de embolá!



fui à grade da cadeia,

Lá vi eu a coisa feia

a bala dentro trovejá.


Cabra danado,

Se não tem corage eu tenho

De pegá cabra na faca

E amarrá sinhô no engenho.


III. Bumba chora


Chora, chora,

O Bumba chora e eu vou-me embora.

Vou-me embora,

vou tocar minha viola.


Ê, Bumba chora!

Ah! ah!  Chora meu Bumba.


Vou-me embora,

vou-me embora segunda-feira que vem.

Quem não me conhece chora,

qui dirá quem mi qué bem.


Amanhã vou pra escola

Aprendê a lê e a tocá viola.


IV. Eu vou, eu vou


Eu vou, eu vou,

Você não vai

apanhar macaúba no balaio.


A muié do paiaço é um colosso

caiu da cama, quebrou o pescoço.

Oi, pisei na manga, escorreguei

a minha roupa eu rasguei.


Vou apanhar macaúba,

Macaúba no balaio.





Beautiful brunette,

what have you come to see?

The sun rose, turned, but is already set…




The Dendê trapiá coconut,

It is about to fall!



I went to the jailhouse.

There I saw the “ugly thing”

fire a gun shot.


Bad guy,

if you don’t have the courage, I do,

to take him by force

and tie him to the mill.




Cry, cry,

The Bumba cries, and I leave.

I will leave,

I’m going to play my guitar.


Ah, cry, Bumba!

Ah! ah!  Cry, my Bumba!


I will leave,

I will leave next Monday.

If those who don’t know me cry,

imagine those who like me.


Tomorrow I will go to school

to learn to read and play the guitar.




I’ll go, I’ll go,

but you won’t go

To pick up macaúba leaves with a basket.


The clown’s wife is “weird”;

she fell off the bed and broke her neck.

Oops! I stepped on a mango and slipped

and I tore my clothes!


I’ll go to pick up macaúba leaves

with a basket.

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Navona Records offers listeners a fresh taste of today's leading innovators in orchestral, chamber, instrumental, and experimental music as well as prime pieces of classic repertoire. Our music is meticulously performed by the finest musicians and handpicked to ensure the most rewarding listening experience.



223 Lafayette Road

North Hampton NH 03862



press (at) parmarecordings.com

603.758.1718 x 151