Mezzo-soprano Paula Rivera is the Artistic Director of Opera Box Arts. In this role, she has directed and performed a variety of major operatic works such as The Magic Flute, Hansel and Gretel, Cinderella, Amahl and the Night Visitors, Dido and Aeneas and Suor Angelica. She is an accomplished solo/ensemble singer and teacher who is at home in the full lyric mezzo repertoire as well as lighter coloratura mezzo roles. She was recently seen performing the role of The Mother in Menotti’s The Consul, with Liberty City Opera and Prismatic Arts. Other notable roles include Madame Flora in The Medium, Principessa in Suor Angelica and the Witch in Hansel and Gretel . Among other favorite operatic roles are Maddalena in Rigoletto, Mallika in Lakme, Emilia in Verdi’s Otello, Amastre in Xerxes, Sorceress in Dido and Aeneas and Mother in Amahl and the Night Visitors. 

On the concert stage, Paula is comfortable in Oratorio and Recital, and has performed in the US and Latin-America. She has been featured as a soloist in Mozart's Requiem, Handel’s Messiah, Bach’s Magnificat, Beethoven Missa Solemnis, Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater, Brahms’ Alto Rhapsody and Schubert’s Mass in G and E flat. 

As an ensemble singer, Paula is a core member of the Opera Philadelphia Chorus and has appeared with Vox Amadeus, Choral Arts Society, Philadelphia Symphonic Choir and The Philadelphia Singers.

A passionate educator, Paula is the founder and head instructor at CANTARE School of Voice in Northwest Philadelphia.

Baritone Kevin Patrick is a versatile artist performing lyric and character roles in the Italian, French, German, and English traditions. He has appeared with Opera Delaware, Opera Baltimore, Prismatic Arts Ensemble, Wilmington Concert, and Boheme Opera NJ. His extensive operatic repertoire includes roles such as Leporello, Dr. Falke, Escamillo, Peter (the Father), Dr. Dulcamara, and the Four Villains. 

His recent credits also include a celebrated turn as Sam in Bernstein’s Trouble in Tahiti. Mr. Patrick is equally at home in musical theatre and cabaret performance, regularly appearing in crossover and concert settings that bridge operatic technique with theatrical and popular idioms. He made his Off-Broadway debut in 2017 as Isaac Feinman/Lead Player in Dorian Gray: The Musical.

Praised for her “clear, beautiful soprano,"(Aisle Seat) Marcelle McGuirk brings her bold musical interpretations to audiences of every kind. As Violet Caballero, she won Philadelphia Magazine’s “Best of Philly 2025” for her performances bridging opera, burlesque, and drag.

Notable stage credits include: Magda (The Consul), Juliette (Roméo et Juliette), Della (The Gift of the Magi), Snow Maiden (The Snow Maiden), Musetta (La Boheme), and several roles in the two woman contemporary opera, Between: The Elevator. Her solo concert credits include: Crumb’s Apparition, Mozart’s Requiem, Vivaldi’s Gloria, Handel’s Messiah, Bach’s Magnificat in D, and Orff's Carmina Burana. 

Marcelle is a co-founder of Prismatic Arts Ensemble, which creates immersive stagings of song literature, featuring new works and the works of lesser known composers. Additionally, she is working on a solo project, Songs of mi Gente, which aims to spread awareness of classical vocal music from Puerto Rican composers.

When not singing, Ms. McGuirk works with racial justice groups with a special focus on creating cross-cultural relationships and dialogue, particularly with Spanish-speaking communities, as she is of Puerto Rican descent. 

Learn more at www.marcellemcguirk.com

Martin Dantagnan has participated in Children’s Opera Box workshop productions since the age of 4, when he was in the chorus for Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel. Other productions he was in as a young child include Rossini’s Cinderella,  Menotti’s Amahl and the Night visitors and Mozart’s The Magic Flute, where he sang his first solo role as The First Spirit at age 10. Martin continued singing with Opera Box Arts as a high school student and performed the role of Amor in their production of Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas, also working as Stage Manager. He is a voice student of Paula Rivera at CANTARE School of Voice in Philadelphia and a Music Technology & Sound Recording student at Community College of Philadelphia. Upcoming performances as an Opera Box Grad include the role of The Paige in Amahl and the Night Visitors in January 2027 and Soloist - Ghost in Of Sound and Fury in May 2027.

Soprano, Tracy Sturgis has performed in numerous operas, oratorios and concerts throughout the United States. Some of her favorite concert work includes singing as the soloist in Vaughan Williams Mass in G minor, Schubert’s Mass in G, Orff’s Carmina Burana and Mozart’s Vesperae solennes de confessore among others. Her operatic roles include Susanna (Le Nozze di Figaro), Violetta (La Traviata), Gretel (Hansel and Gretel), and Pamina (The Magic Flute).

Tracy frequently sings as a choral artist and is on the roster of the Vox Ama

Deus Ensemble, Vox Renaissance Consort and the Philadelphia Chorale. She most recently performed as the soprano soloist in Bach’s Magnificat and Mozart’s Requiem . Tracy is looking forward to performing as the soprano soloist in Mozart’s Vesperae solennes de confessore in June 2027. 

Tenor Christopher Hodson is an established artist currently based in Morrisville PA.

Most recently he originated the role of Doyle in the world premiere of A Capacity for

Evil in Detroit, MI. Previous operatic roles include Peter Quint (The Turn of the Screw),

Don Ottavio (Don Giovanni), Belmonte (Die Entführung aus dem Serail), Nemorino

(l’Elisir d’Amore), and Pelléas (Pelléas et Mélisande). In 2018, Christopher debuted his

first album with the New Jersey Chamber Singers and Orchestra in their performance of

Mozart’s Requiem and Bach’s Cantata 80 (Naxos). While actively performing,

Christopher maintains a regular teaching schedule at Fairleigh Dickinson University.

Christopher holds a Master of Music in Voice Performance and Pedagogy from

Westminster Choir College where he studied voice with Dr. Christopher Arneson. He

received his Bachelor of Arts in Vocal Music from Western Michigan University.

Luna Dantagnan is a voice teacher and a Philadelphia native with a strong foundation in vocal performance and music education. She is highly engaged in the local choral community, having served on the board of Epiphany Singers, an auditioned choral ensemble of young adults. Luna has also performed with Opera Box in numerous roles, including her most recent appearance as First Witch in Purcell's Dido and Aeneas. This performance and leadership background is complemented by her experience teaching general music and directing choirs at institutions like J. R. Masterman School and her current role at Academy Park High School. This combination allows her to offer students a well-rounded approach to vocal technique and artistry. Luna earned her Bachelor of Music in Music Education and Vocal Performance from Temple University.

Lyric Bass Martin Hargrove is from Willingboro, New Jersey and has performed in opera, musical theater, recital, and concert throughout the US, Europe, South America and Canada. His concert repertoire includes Bass soloist in Handel's Messiah and Israel in Egypt, Beethoven's 9th Symphony, the Requiems of Mozart and Fauré, William Schuman’s Casey at the Bat, Haydn’s The Creation, Valerie Capers’ Sojourner, Eric Houghton’s Pioneer Songs, Alice Parker's Sermon on the Mountain, and Duke Elington’s Sacred Concerts at the Clifford Brown Jazz Festival and at his Kennedy Center solo debut with Cyrus Chestnut and his orchestra. In recital Martin has featured the songs of Schubert, R.V.Williams, and Paul Bowles as well as folk song arrangements by Aaron Copland, Benjamin Britten, Celius Dougherty and the spiritual arrangements of Harry Burleigh, Hall Johnson Margaret Bonds and Maria Thompson Corley. This summer he was featured in the Philadelphia Fringe Festival, presenting his recital program, “Black Voices in American Art Song”. Mr. Hargrove's operatic roles include lead roles in Aida, La Boheme, Le nozze di Figaro, Rigoletto, Tosca, Lucia di Lammermoor, Die Zauberflöte, Il Tabarro, Porgy and Bess, Madama Butterfly, Don Giovanni, and the role of Cinque M'tume in Robert Zuidam's Freeze. On the musical theater stage he has performed in Ain't Misbehavin' and Little Shop of Horrors, the pre-broadway workshop cast of the Tony award winning musical The Color Purple, and was featured in the Tony Award winning production of Showboat directed by the legendary Hal Prince. Martin studied at Westminster Choir College, and Trenton State College and was an apprentice at Florida Grand Opera, and Minnesota Opera. He is currently on the roster of Delaware Choral Arts, The New York Philharmonic Chorus, The National Chorale in New York City, and an ensemble member and featured soloist with the Voices of Harlem, the Unsung Collective and The American Spiritual Ensemble. Last season he made his first appearances with the Houston Grand Opera and the Metropolitan Opera.

Sarah Shoff is a soprano studying Classical Voice Performance at the Schulich School of Music of McGill University, under Anja Burmeister. Born and raised in Philadelphia, Sarah has performed across the city for many years with the Pennsylvania Girlchoir (now PYCE), Opera Box, and the Philadelphia Orchestra. She graduated from the CANTARE School of Voice in 2023. Sarah is a particular champion of contemporary classical music and underrepresented composers in the song genre. At McGill, she is a recipient of the Duncan L. Campbell Memorial Award, the Margaret Kalil Memorial Award, and the Robert N.C. Tennant Voice Award. Upcoming projects include singing the role of Lucy in the Canadian academic premiere of Gregory Spears’ Fellow Travelers (Opera McGill), workshopping Canadian-American composer Luna Pearl Woolf's A Prayer for Owen Meany (Opera Magnolia), and making her directorial debut via a new adaptation of Euripides’ The Bacchae in February 2027. She can be found on Instagram (@sarahshoffsoprano).

Connor Fluharty is an organist, pianist, and choral conductor. As a church musician for Episcopal churches since 2017, he is passionate about the tradition of Anglican music and its role in deepening worship and building community within the church. Connor finds great joy in his mission to nurture an intergenerational community of musicians in which participants feel musically stimulated and spiritually nourished. He previously served at Trinity Church Princeton in various roles, including Organ Scholar, Interim Director of Music, and Associate Director of Music, during which time he simultaneously directed the semi-professional Lux Choir of the Episcopal Church of Princeton.

Connor earned his Master of Music in Organ Performance from Westminster Choir College, where he studied with Daryl Robinson, and also holds a Bachelor of Music in both organ and piano performance. Connor has taught organ at Lehigh University and often performs as a solo organist and pianist, as well as an accompanist and continuo player. When not behind the keyboard, he also sings in the bass section of the Philadelphia Symphonic Choir, as well as with Princeton Pro Musica and other local ensembles. Outside of music, Connor is an avid reader and cinephile, and is usually planning some overly ambitious cooking project.

POEMS

La hija del viejo Pancho          E. Cordero / PUERTO RICO

Cuando canta en la enramada

Mi buen gallo camagüey

Y se cuela en el batey

el frío de la madrugada

Cuando la mansa bueyada

se despierta en el corral

y los becerros berrear

se oyen debajo del rancho

Y la hija del viejo Pancho

va las vacas a ordeñar

Entonces viene a mi hamaca

un olor como de selva

Ah... Ah...

Todo tiene un hondo y ancho olor a felicidad

y ese olor que me lo da

es la hija del viejo Pancho.

Bito Manué                                     A. García Caturla / CUBA

Bito Manué , tú no sabe inglé 

Bito Manué , tú no sabe inglé 

Con tanto inglé que tú sabía

Con tanto inglé no sabe ahora desí yé

Ah!

La’ mericana te bu’ca

Y tu le tiene que huí 

Tu inglé era de etrai guan

De etrai guan y guan, tu, tri

Tu inglé era de etrai guan

De etrai guan y guan, tu, tri

Bito Manué, tú no sabe inglé 

Bito Manué, tú no sabe inglé 

Con tanto inglé que tú sabía

Con tanto inglé no sabe ahora desí yé

Yea, yea, Bito Manué

Ea, ea, Bito Manué

No te enamore ma nunca, Bito Manué

Bito Manué, si no sabe inglé 

Préstame tu pañuelito      C. Guastavino / ARGENTINA

Préstame tu pañuelito

Para secarme los ojos

Porque llorando me vi

Por tus desdenes y antojos

Ay, ay de mí, llorando por ti

Préstame tu pañuelito

Que yo te lo lavaré

Con lágrimas de mis ojos

De nieve lo dejaré

Ay, ay de mí, velando por ti

Préstame tu pañuelito

Que tiene flores bordadas

Que yo te las regaré

Con mis lágrimas lloradas

Ay, ay de mí, ausente y sin ti

La Gitana                                           J. Orrego Salas / CHILE 

Quisiera vivir, morir

Por las vereditas, siempre!

Quisiera vivir, morir

Por las vereditas, siempre!

Dejame morir,

Dejame vivir,

Deja que mi sueno

Ruede contigo al sol,

A la luna

Dentro de tu carro verde

¿Por qué vereda se fue?

Ay, aire, que no lo se!

Por la de Benameji?

Por la de Lucena o Priego?

Por la de Loja se fue?

Ay, aire! Ay, aire, que no lo sé!

Ahora recuerdo:

Me dijo que caminaba

a Sevilla.

A Sevilla? No!

No lo se!

Por qué vereda se fue?

Ay, aire, que no lo sé!

Canción del carretero

                                       C. López  Buchardo / ARGENTINA

En las cuchillas se pone el sol; 

Las golondrinas han vuelto ya, 

Y por la senda del campo verde 

Un carretero cantando va: 

"Alma de mi alma ¡Cómo lloré! 

Bajo este cielo lleno de sol, 

Cuando agitaste en la tranquera 

Tu pañuelito diciendo ¡Adiós! 

¡Ay, paisanita! Vuelve a mi amor.

Sin ti mi vida no puede estar.

 Las madreselvas se han marchitado 

Y las calandrias no cantan ya. 

¡Ay, Paisanita! Vuelve a mi amor. 

Hecha tapera la casa está 

Y entre los sauces llora el remanso 

Por que tus labios no cantan más." 

En las cuchillas se ha puesto el sol; 

Mientras la tarde muriendo está 

Y así cantando va el carretero 

Las desventuras de su cantar.

Madre mía cuando muera                 B. Galindo / MEXICO

Madre mía cuando muera, cuando muera,

sepúltame en el hogar.

sepúltame en el hogar.

Madre mía cuando muera, cuando muera,

sepúltame en el hogar.

sepúltame en el hogar.

Y al hacer el pan espera,

y por mí ponte a llorar.

Y al hacer el pan espera,

y por mí ponte a llorar.

Y si uno en saber se empeña, en saber,

la causa de tu penar,

La causa de tu penar.

Y si uno en saber se empeña, en saber,

la causa de tu penar,

La causa de tu penar.

Dile que verde es la leña

y que el humo te hace llorar

Dile que verde es la leña

y que el humo te hace llorar

y que el humo te hace llorar.

La Rosa y el Sauce                 C. Guastavino / ARGENTINA

La rosa se iba abriendo

Abrazada al sauce,

El árbol apasionado,

apasionado,

La amaba tanto!

Pero una niña, una niña coqueta

Pero una niña, una niña coqueta

Se la ha robado

Y el sauce desconsolado

La está llorando.

La está llorando.

Júrame                                                     M. Grever / MEXICO

Todos dicen que es mentira que te quiero

Porque nunca me habían visto enamorado

Yo te juro que yo mismo no comprendo

El porqué  tu mirar me ha fascinado

Cuando estoy cerca de ti,

y estas contenta

no quisiera que de nadie te acordaras

Tengo celos hasta del pensamiento

que pueda recordarte

a otra persona amada

Júrame

Que aunque pase mucho tiempo

No olvidarás el momento

En que yo te conocí

Mírame

Pues no hay nada más profundo

Ni más grande en este mundo

Que el cariño que te di

Bésame

Con un beso enamorado

Como nadie me ha besado

Desde el día que nací

Quiéreme

Quiéreme hasta la locura

Así sabrás la amargura

Que estoy sufriendo por ti

Rocío                                          C. Guastavino / ARGENTINA

Esta era una rosa llena de rocío

Este era mi pecho con el hijo mío

Junta sus hojitas para sostenerlo

Esquiva la brisa por no desprenderlo

Descendió una noche desde el cielo inmenso

Y del amor tiene su aliento suspenso

De dicha se queda callada, callada

No hay rosa entre rosas mas maravillada

Mas maravillada

Esta era una rosa llena de rocío

Este era mi pecho con el hijo mío

Rima                                             J.  León Ferro / COLOMBIA

No puedo decirte

ni con el silencio,

ni con las palabras,

ni aun con la música

más desesperada.

Tal vez con la luna

o con un aroma

de violetas, húmedo

de vino y de música,

sufriendo, nocturno.

Tal vez con la noche,

cuando es solamente

un rumor de hojas

con viento y estrellas

para el desvelado.

Tal vez con la luna,

si la luna oliera

a vino y violetas.

Tal vez con palabras

nocturnas,

y si las palabras

miraran.

No puedo decirte.

Yaraví                                                 G. Guevara / ECUADOR

En lo más profundo de la sierra Andina

Se oyen los lamentos de un rondador

Es el indio que así canta su amargura y dolor

El que fuera ayer dueño del monte

Donde el padre sol su fulgor guarda

Canta un Yaraví, canta su pena

Y en su rondador, su alma desgrana

Es el indio que así canta su amargura y dolor

Ah!

Jujeña                               C. López Buchardo / ARGENTINA

Frescor de chirimoyos, Vidita

Flor de Abertuya

Perfume de Amancay, Vidita

Y Puya Puya

Brisas serranas

Brisas serranas

Que perfuman los cantos, vidita,

De tus mañanas

Trinar de chalchaleros, Vidita

Y reinas mora

Todo dice la gracia, Vidita

Con que te doras

Tardes serenas

Tardes sernas

Con tersura de helechos, Vidita

Y de azucenas

Del misterio de piedra, Vidita

De tus quebradas,

Llegan lamentaciones, Vidita

Hondas, calladas

Llora la quena

Llora la quena

Su leyenda infinita, Vidita

De amor y pena

Oro tienen tus campos, Vidita

Oro y aromas

Si se duerme la tarde, vidita

Sobre tus lomas

Flor de Agapanto

Flor de Agapanto 

Canto porque te quiero, Vidita

Por eso canto!

Balada                                                           E. Cantón / CHILE

Él pasó con otra;

yo le vi pasar.

Siempre dulce el viento

y el camino en paz.

¡Y estos ojos míseros

le vieron pasar!

Él va amando a otra

por la tierra en flor.

Ha abierto el espino;

pasa una canción.

¡Y él va amando a otra

por la tierra en flor!

El besó a la otra

a orillas del mar;

resbaló en las olas

la luna de azahar.

¡Y no untó mi sangre

la extensión del mar!

El irá con otra

por la eternidad.

Habrá cielos dulces.

(Dios quiera callar.)

¡Y él irá con otra

por la eternidad!

Cortadera, plumerito           C. Guastavino / ARGENTINA

Cortadera, plumerito...

¡Cuánto nácar en el viento!

Recuerdos de tus verdores

me causan un sentimiento.

¡Ay, cuánto te necesito!

Trebolar donde vivía.

¿Podré volver algún día,

cortadera, plumerito?

Ay, cuanto te necesito,

Cortadera, plumerito.

Por esos campos viví,

provincia de Buenos Aires,

y, abanicando los aires,

por esos años te vi.

¡Ay, cuánto te necesito!

Trebolar donde vivía.

¿Podré volver algún día,

cortadera, plumerito?

Ay, cuanto te necesito,

Cortadera, plumerito.

Canción al árbol del olvido  A. Ginastera /  ARGENTINA

En mis pagos hay un árbol

que del olvido se llama,

al que van a despenarse,

Vidalitay,

los moribundos del alma.

Para no pensar en vos

bajo el árbol del olvido

me acosté una nochecita,

Vidalitay,

y me quedé bien dormido.

Al despertar de aquel sueño

pensaba en vos otra vez,

pues me olvidé de olvidarte,

Vidalitay,

en cuantito me acosté.

La niña de la guitarra                       G. Yepes / COLOMBIA

No se ha muerto, no se ha muerto

La niña la guitarra

Está mirando la lluvia

Y jugando con el agua.

No se ha ido, está bordando un ruiseñor en su falda

Con la música que toca y las canciones que canta

No se ha muerto, no se ha muerto

La  niña la guitarra

Está mirando la lluvia

Y jugando con el agua:

No se ha ido, está bordando un ruiseñor en su falda

Con la música que toca y las canciones que canta

Es una ramita verde, es una paloma blanca

Es el sonido del viento en la noche y en el alba

Toda la tierra es su cielo, toda la tierra es su patria

Y los caminos se acercan para verla y escucharla

No se ha muerto, no se ha muerto

La niña la guitarra

Está mirando la lluvia

Y jugando con el agua.

Algún día                                    J. León  Ferro / COLOMBIA

Un día llegarás. 

El amor nos espera 

Y me dirás; y me dirás, amada, 

¡Ya llegó la primavera! 

Un día me amarás 

Estarás de mi pecho tan cercano 

Que no sabré si el fuego que me abrasa 

Es de tú corazón o del verano.

Un día me tendrás 

Escucharemos mudos 

Latir nuestras arterias 

Y sollozar los árboles desnudos

Un día, cualquier día, 

Breve y eterno. 

El amor es el mismo en verano, 

En otoño y en invierno.

Chañarcito                               C. Guastavino / ARGENTINA

Chañarcito, chañarcito, que tantas espinas tienes

Igual a mi corazón entre espinas te sostienes

Igual a mi corazón entre espinas te sostienes

Échale, échale, échale, 

échale entre las espinas

Échale entre las espinas tus flores finas

Chañarcito, chañarcito, de lindas y verdes ramas

Igual a mi corazón en amores te derramas

Igual a mi corazón en amores te derramas

Échale, échale, échale, échale entre las espinas

Échale entre las espinas tus flores finas

Chañarcito, chañarcito, de tan alegre mirar

Igual a mi corazón, no lo dejes desmayar

Igual a mi corazón, no lo dejes desmayar

Échale, échale, échale, échale entre las espinas

Échale entre las espinas tus flores finas, tus flores finas

Échale entre las espinas tus flores finas, tus flores finas

Viento Norte                         C. Guastavino /   ARGENTINA

Desgarrado entre los montes sobre largos arenales

Va chillando el viento norte su grito en los quebrachales

Va chillando el viento norte su grito en los quebrachales

Un cordaje de tacuaras de espinillos y chircales

Bordonean la agonía del fuego en la roja tarde

Bordonean la agonía del fuego en la roja tarde

Aire de fragua viento de fuego

Quemando leguas pasa febrero

El viento brama fuego en su aliento

Tierra cuarteada hombre sediento

El viento brama fuego en su aliento

Tierra cuarteada hombre sediento

Ya está la tierra quemada, está herida mi esperanza

Viento norte río bajo reseca está la barranca

Viento norte río bajo reseca está la barranca

Pobre mi tierra cansada no te alcanzan mis sudores

Para verte rebrotado milagro en pampa de flores

Para verte rebrotada milagro en pampa de flores

Aire de fragua viento de fuego, quemando leguas pasa febrero

El viento brama fuego en su aliento, tierra cuarteada hombre sediento

El viento brama fuego en su aliento, tierra cuarteada hombre sediento

TRANSLATIONS

Old Pancho’s daughter

When in the arbor

my good Camagüey rooster sings

And into the plaza slips

the cold of dawn 

When the meek oxen

stir awake in the barnyard

And the bleating of the calves

is heard under the ranch

And old Pancho’s daughter,

goes to milk the cows

It is then when towards my hammock

drifts a scent of forest

Ah!

Everything has a deep and wide smell of happiness

And the scent that brings it to me

Is old Pancho’s daughter

Bito Manué

Bito Manué, you don’t know English

Bito Manué, you don’t know English

With so much English you claimed you knew

With so much English you don’t know how to say yes

Ah!

The american girl is looking for you

And you have to run away

Your English was of “strike one”

Of strike one and one, two three

Your English was of “strike one”

Of strike one and one, two three

Bito Manué, you don’t know English

Bito Manué, you don’t know English

Con tanto inglé que tú sabía

Con tanto inglé no sabe ahora desí yé

Yeah, yeah, Bito Manué

Ea, ea, Bito Manué

Don’t ever fall in love again, Bito Manué

Bito Manué, if you don’t know English

Lend me your little handkerchief

Lend me your little handkerchief

To dry my eyes

Because I found myself crying

Due to your disdain and your whims

Oh, oh, poor me, crying for you!

Lend me your little handkerchief

That I will wash it for you

With the tears from my eyes

I will leave it white as snow

Oh, oh, poor me, weeping for you!

Lend me your little handkerchief

That has embroidered flowers

For I will water them

With the tears I have cried

Oh, oh, poor me! Absent and without you.

The Gypsy

I'd like to live, to die,

on those little sidewalks, always!

I'd like to live, to die,

on those little sidewalks, always!

Let me die! 

Let me live!

Let my dream 

roll with you towards the sun,

towards the moon,

inside your green chariot

Which sidewalk did he take to leave?

Oh, air, I do not know!

The one in Benameji?

The one in Lucena or Priego?

Did he leave through the one in Loja?

Oh, air! Oh, air, I do not know!

Now I remember:

He told me he was walking

towards Sevilla

Towards Sevilla? No!

I do not know!

Which sidewalk did he take to leave?

Oh, air, I do not know!

Song of the cart driver

On the blades, the sun sets; 

The swallows have returned, 

And by the path of the green field 

A plowman goes along singing: 

"Soul of my soul! How I cried! 

Under this sun-filled sky, 

When by the fence you waved 

your handkerchief saying goodbye! 

Oh, little country girl! Return to my love.

Without you my life cannot exist. 

The honeysuckle has withered 

And the orioles no longer sing.

Oh, little country girl! Return to my love. 

The house has been made a ruin 

And among the willows cries the river 

Because your lips sing no more."

On the blades the sun has set; 

While the afternoon is dying 

In the same way singing goes the cart driver 

The misfortunes of his song.

Mother of mine, when I die, when I die

Mother of mine, when I die, when I die,

bury me in the hearth,

bury me in the hearth.

Mother of mine, when I die, when I die,

bury me in the hearth,

bury me in the hearth.

And when you bake the bread, wait,

and begin to cry for me.

And when you bake the bread, wait,

and begin to cry for me.

And if someone insists on finding out,

on finding out

the cause of your weeping,

the cause of your weeping.

And if someone insists on finding out,

on finding out

the cause of your weeping,

the cause of your weeping.

Tell them the firewood is green

and that the smoke makes you cry.

Tell them the firewood is green

and that the smoke makes you cry.

And that the smoke makes you cry.

The Rose and the Willow tree

The rose was blooming

embracing the willow tree.

The tree, passionately,

passionately,

loved her so!

But a girl, a vain girl,

but a girl, a vain girl

has stolen her

And the tree, inconsolable 

is crying for her,

is crying for her.

Swear to me

They all say that it’s not true that I love you

Because they had never seen me in love

I swear to you that I myself can’t comprehend

Why your gaze has fascinated me

When I am near you and you are happy

I wouldn’t want you to remember anyone else

I am jealous even of the thoughts

That could remind you

Of another person you have loved

Swear to me

That even if a long time passes

You won’t forget the moment

I met you

Look at me

For there is nothing deeper

Or bigger in this world

Than the love I gave you

Kiss me

With a kiss of love

Like nobody has kissed me

Since the day that I was born

Love me

Love me to insanity

And then you’ll know the bitterness

That I’m suffering for you

Dew

There once was a rose filled with dew

There once was my breast holding my child

She gathers her petals to hold him

Shuns the breeze so she doesn’t lose him

She came down one night from the vast sky

And love has her holding her breath in suspense

Out of joy she stays silent, silent

There is no rose among roses as filled with wonder

As filled with wonder

There once was a rose filled with dew

There once was my breast holding my child

Rhyme

I cannot tell you,

not with silence,

nor with words,

not even with music

of the most desperate sort.

Maybe with the moon

or with the scent

of violets, humid

with wine and music,

suffering, nocturnal.

Maybe with the night

when there is only

a rumor of leaves

with wind and stars

for those who cannot sleep.

Maybe with the moon,

if the moon could smell

of wine and violets

Maybe with nocturnal words,

and if the words could see.

I cannot tell you.

Yaraví  

In the deepest of the Andean sierra

The laments of a reed flute are heard

It is the indian who thus sings his bitterness and pain

He who yesterday was the owner of the mountain

Where Father Sun holds his brilliance

Sings a Yaraví tune, sings his sorrow

And through his reed flute, unveils his heart

It is the indian who thus sings his bitterness and pain

Ah!

Jujeña

Freshness of the Cherimoya tree, sweetheart

Abertuya flower

Perfume of Amancay, sweetheart

And of Puya Puya

Mountain breezes

Mountain breezes

That scent the song

Of your mornings

Song of the robins, sweetheart

And blue cardinals

It all shows the grace, sweetheart

With which you sunbathe

Serene afternoons

Serene afternoons

With the smoothness of moss, sweetheart

And of lilies

From the stony mystery, sweetheart

of your ravines

Come lamentations, sweetheart

Deep and quiet

The flute cries

The flute cries

Its infinite legend, sweetheart

Of love and sorrow

Tour fields have gold, sweetheart

Gold and fragrances

If the evening falls asleep, sweetheart

On your hills

Agapanto flower

Agapanto flower

I sing because I love you, sweetheart

This is why I sing!

Ballad

He passed by with another;

I saw him pass.

The wind always sweet

and the road at peace.

And these wretched eyes

saw him pass! 

He goes, loving another

through the flowering earth.

The hawthorn has opened;

a song passes by.

And he goes, loving another

through the flowering earth! 

He kissed the other

by the shores of the sea;

into the waves slipped

the orange-blossom moon

And it was not my blood that anointed

the expanse of the sea!

He will go with another

for eternity.

There will be sweet heavens

(God wants to be silent.)

And he will go with another

for eternity! 

Pampas Grass, Little Plume

Pampas grass, little plume,

so much mother-of-pearl in the wind!

Memories of your greenness

stir feelings within me.

Memories of your greenness

stir feelings within me.

Oh, how I need you,

clover fields where I lived!

Can I return someday,

Pampas grass, little plume?

Oh, how I need you,

Pampas grass, little plume!

I lived among those fields,

the Province of Buenos Aires,

and fanning the airs

during those years I saw you.

And fanning the airs

during those years I saw you.

Oh, how I need you,

clover fields where I lived!

Can I return someday,

Pampas grass, little plume?

Oh, how I need you,

Pampas grass, little plume!

Song to the Tree of Oblivion

In my land there’s a tree

called the tree of oblivion,

Where they go to cleanse their sorrows,

Vidalitay,

those whose souls are dying.

So that I would not think of you,

under the tree of oblivion

I laid down one night,

Vidalitay,

and I fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up from that dream

I thought of you once again

for I forgot to forget you,

Vidalitay,

as soon as I laid down.

The girl with the guitar

She hasn't died, she hasn't died

The girl with the guitar

She’s watching the rain

and playing with the water.

She hasn't left; she is embroidering a nightingale on her skirt

With the music she plays and the songs she sings

She hasn't died, she hasn't died

The girl with the guitar

She’s watching the rain

And playing with the water:

She hasn't left; she is embroidering a nightingale on her skirt

With the music she plays and the songs she sings

She is a green sprig, she is a white dove

She is the sound of the wind in the night and at dawn

The whole earth is her sky, the whole earth is her homeland

And the roads draw near to see and hear her

She hasn't died, she hasn't died

The girl with the guitar

She’s watching the rain

And playing with the water.

Some day

One day you will arrive 

Love is waiting for us 

And you will tell me: Beloved, 

Spring has arrived!

One day you will love me 

You will be so close to my bosom

That I won’t know if the fire that consumes me 

Comes from your heart or from the summer. 

One day you will have me 

We will listen in silence 

To the pulsing of our veins

And the sobbing of the bare trees 

One day, any day, 

Brief and eternal. 

Love is the same in summer, 

In autumn and in winter

Little chañar tree

Little chañar tree, little chañar tree, with so many thorns

Just like my own heart, you hold your own amidst the thorns

Just like my own heart, you hold your own amidst the thorns

Cast them, cast them, cast them, 

cast them amidst the thorns

Cast amidst the thorns all your delicate flowers

Little chañar tree, little chañar tree, with pretty green boughs

Just like my own heart, you overflow with love

Just like my own heart, you overflow with love

Cast them, cast them, cast them, 

cast them amidst the thorns

Cast amidst the thorns all your delicate flowers

Little chañar tree, little chañar tree, of such a joyful gaze

Just like my own heart—do not let it falter

Just like my own heart—do not let it falter

Cast them, cast them, cast them, 

cast them amidst the thorns

Cast amidst the thorns all your delicate flowers

Your delicate flowers

Cast amidst the thorns all your delicate flowers

Your delicate flowers

Northern Wind

Torn across the hills over long sand dunes,

shrieking its cry, the northern wind goes through the groves;

shrieking its cry, the north wind goes through the groves;

A web of reeds, thorns, and shrubs

Hums the agony of the fire in the crimson evening;

Hums the agony of the fire in the crimson evening.

Air like a forge, wind of fire. 

Burning up the miles, February goes by

The wind roars, fire in its breath. 

Parched earth, thirsty man

The wind roars, fire in its breath

Parched earth, thirsty man!

Already the land is scorched, my hope is wounded

Northern wind, downstream the ravine is dried out

Northern wind, downstream the ravine is dried out

My poor, weary land—my sweat is not enough

to see you sprout anew like a miracle, into a flowery pampa.

To see you sprout anew like a miracle, into a flowery pampa.

Air like a forge, wind of fire. 

Burning up the miles, February goes by

The wind roars, fire in its breath. 

Parched earth, thirsty man

The wind roars, fire in its breath

Parched earth, thirsty man!