poignant

that's the word i think of when i hear susan graham sing reynaldo hahn's "si mes vers avaient des ailes" the lyrics of which come from a victor hugo poem.

Si Mes Vers Avaient Des Ailes

Mes vers fuiraient, doux et frêles,
Vers votre jardin si beau,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Des ailes comme l'oiseau.

Ils voleraient, étincelles,
Vers votre foyer qui rit,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Des ailes comme l'esprit.

Près de vous, purs et fidèles,
Ils accourraient, nuit et jour,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Des ailes comme l'amour.

the song reminds me of two things: the first is standing in the living room of my first singing teacher's house after a long day of work as a tour guide at the national historic site i used to supervise. i was sunburned and a little dirty from long hours toiling in the period kitchen in full garb, but in front of me was an impressionist painting proped up on a music stand that i gazed into while working my way through hahn's piece. through the opened window i could smell the faint breeze blowing off the niagara river.

the second is a moment in a drive back from toronto with an ex-boyfriend. we had spent an early summer afternoon prowling around queen st. west and i had found graham's cd in a used cd store. i was elated. as we spend down the highway back to niagara, i remember looking at the stars out over the water and listening to graham's voice ripple out of the car stereo.

though the lyrics do not really reference water, i hear in the lines "si mes vers avaient des ailes/comme l'oiseau" --- "if only my poems had the wings/of a bird." --- the longing that i feel when i'm near the water. it is the longing i felt this afternoon as i lay out on a dock at the yacht club with confessing mermaid and shani, laughing, talking and occasionally jumping off the dock into the dark blue of the lake. underneath the discussions about unsuitable men (never date a man who has a tattoo involving flames or trucks!), body weight, the skill of sailing and the rigours of rowing, there it was --- that strange feeling of longing that i can never quite quel. i longed for the deep blue of the lake to fill me and quiet it. moving through me was the desire i hear in graham's voice, the wishing for, the dreaming, the closing one's eyes tightly in hopes that when one opens them the world will be different. "if only my poems had the wings/of love".