This is an instrumental extension of my vocal setting of my father’s translation of Ronsard’s poem “A Cassandre”
Darling, come see the rose so red,
Which this morn timidly had spread
Her mantle to the eye of day.
Come see if she has lost this e’en
Her crimson pleated robe’s soft sheen,
That same blush which on your cheek plays.
See how in but a paltry hour
She has let fall her ailing flower.
Her beauty lies there in the dust!
Alas! How cruel is Mother Nature,
Since such a blossom can endure
Only from trembling dawn to dusk.
Darling you must indeed believe,
Whilst innocence within you cleaves
The bud and blooms in purity,
Garner the gifts of tender youth,
For, like this flower, age in sooth
Will sadly spoil and tarnish beauty.
(c) S N Solomons
Performed here by the Budapest Scoring Cellos.