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【悲憤のシェイクスピア〜Sonnet 66をジャズで朗唱】 Indignant Shakespeare — Reciting Sonnet 66 in Jazz

  全てに疲れ切って……  400年前も現在も変わらぬ世情。加えて、酷暑(摂氏40℃)に迫る暑さがアパシーを増幅する。こうなると、もはや怒る気は失せ、気休めに吹き付ける微風に身を任せるように軽快なジャズ朗唱でも試みるか、と作ったのが、今回の「ジャズ・シェイクスピア ソネット66」。ご視聴頂ければ幸いです。 “Tir’d with all these...” The world, it seems, has changed little over the past four hundred years. And now, with the scorching heat approaching 40°C, even apathy grows heavier. At such a point, one no longer feels much like getting angry. Instead, as if surrendering oneself to a faint breeze blowing only for comfort, I found myself trying a light jazz recitation. That is how this piece, Jazz Shakespeare: Sonnet 66 , came into being. I hope you will enjoy it.

【クリスマスは孔雀の聖歌で〜W.B.イェイツ「孔雀」】A poetry chant for Christmas Eve. “The Peacock” by W. B. Yeats

  本日はクリスマスイブ。七面鳥がふさわしいところだが、父親の県展入選の写真を使わせてもらうことにして、孔雀でお許しください。真っ白の羽の孔雀だが、動画制作中、彩色の誘惑に駆られ、ヴィジュアルに傾いてしまった。まあ、クリスマスでもあるし、美を意識してのこととご勘弁ください。 戦後80年も、残すところ一週間。戦闘機の代わりに「熊」が襲来する一年だった。来年こそ、まともな年になりますように。。。  

 動画の詩「孔雀」は、W .B.イエーツ、中期の詩集「レスポンシビリティーズ」所収。世俗的な富より美こそ、と謳う。グレゴリオ聖歌などとても歌えないが、たまには美しいものを、と原文の美麗さに乗って口ずさんだもの。お気に召していただければ幸い。


 Today is Christmas Eve.

 A turkey would be more appropriate, perhaps, but instead I have borrowed a photograph by my father—one that was once selected for a prefectural exhibition—and ask your forgiveness for presenting a peacock instead. This peacock, with its pure white feathers, was meant to remain unadorned. Yet during the process of making the video, I found myself tempted by color, and the work gradually leaned toward the visual. Since it is Christmas, I hope you will allow this indulgence as an offering to beauty.

 Eighty years since the end of the war, with only one week left in the year. It has been a year in which “bears,” rather than fighter jets, came rushing toward us. May the coming year finally be a decent one. The poetry film “The Peacock” is based on a poem by W. B. Yeats, included in his mid-career collection Responsibilities. It sings of beauty as something that surpasses worldly wealth. I cannot claim to sing Gregorian chant, but from time to time, one wishes simply to dwell in something beautiful. Guided by the elegance of Yeats’s original language, I found myself softly chanting the poem.

    If this work brings you even a small moment of pleasure, I would be glad.






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