Heures ternes

Maurice Maeterlinck’s Heures ternes are the dark counterpart of Émile Verhaeren’s Heures claires, the poems in which Nadia Boulanger had found a wellspring of joy the year before. The last two lines, “Moi j’attends un peu de soleil / Sur mes mains que la lune glace,” sum up the grief-laden atmosphere of this moving song. The entry of the voice is preceded by a long, delicate piano introduction, to be played sadly: the melody in the left hand intertwines closely with the obstinate figure in the right, together creating a mood of sorrowful reverie. This spellbinding gentleness is suddenly broken by an exclamation (“Voilà les jours d’espoir passés !”), then returns throughout the second stanza in ever rarer colors. The third stanza (“Encore des sanglots pris au piège”), which begins with great intensity, continues with a gradual quickening of the tempo and culminates in a plea (“Ayez pitié de tout, mon Dieu !”). Finally, the fourth begins gently and offers the illusion of rising toward the light, perhaps toward hope, but immediately sinks back into distress. A new ostinato sets in for the close; subtly, it accelerates while the tempo slows, and the song ends in an atmosphere at once tragic and dreamlike, with a sense of abandonment and despair. Maurice Maeterlinck’s poetry is carried here by music capable of revealing all its mysterious depth.

© Hamelle 1909, Leduc 2017

This song was published in Volume II of the Mélodies pour voix moyenne.

© Anthony Girard