News

scroll down

Poet-in-Residence Rhina P. Espaillat

Rhina P. Espaillat

‍

Does anyone in Newburyport really need an introduction to Rhina? If America had a category for Living National Treasure, Rhina would be at the top of the list. Born in the Dominican Republic under the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo, her family was forced into exile and settled in New York City. She began writing poetry as a young girl in both Spanish and English and has never looked back. She settled in Newburyport thirty years ago and has been queen of the local scene ever since, even as her star has risen internationally.

‍

This summer, Rhina’s poem “The Jury” will serve as libretto to the commissioned piece for soprano and string quartet by Composer-in-Residence Jon Deak. We are also using the occasion to treat our final concert as a kind of big party to celebrate Rhina, our Poet-in-Residence’s, ninetieth birthday. Please join us in August!

‍David Yang, Artistic Director

THE JURY
Rhina P. Espaillat

In a bare tree,
four strangers gathered from afar
slipped into talk, as travelers do.
First Eagle said, “How strange they are,

these creatures lately come to climb
our cliffs and spy upon our brood.
They have no constancy, but drift
from mood to mood:

first, wanton slaughter, and now zeal
to build our hunted tribe again.
I cannot fathom them at all.”
“They are called Men,”

said Pigeon, “and I know them well.
I’ve learned their secret. All they use,
from day to day, to guide their steps,
is just their shoes.

It’s true, my friends. In new spiked boots
yesterday’s farmer struts the street,
turned killer, and tomorrow dies
derelict, with rag-bound feet.

More out of sympathy than need,
I gather their spilled crumbs to know
toward what new grief
their wayward shoes would have them go.”

“And yet,” said Sparrow, “I have known
some who would leave their lighted nest
to scatter seed, through razor winds,
for our sake, lest

we hunger through December days.
I’ve seen them fling their gaze above
their comforts, to pursue us with
something like love.”

“True,” Vulture said, “for they love me
and have my welfare much in mind.
In Leningrad, in Lebanon
men were most kind

and nourished me with their own young.
Vietnam, Verdun, Angola, Troy,
Thermopylae…the love of men
is my chief joy.”

“Well, that’s as may be,” Eagle said,
“but they are feeble things at best.
Condemned to winglessness, they creep
in their own shadow, flight-obsessed,

a sad smudge upon the earth,
half-willingly erased at last.
We will posses our own again,
when they have passed.”

‍

Download File

latest posts
Notes from David Yang

NCMF Winter Baroque: What makes a Baroque concert “authentic?"

By

David Yang

No, this does not mean the musicians will be dressed in 18th century costumes.

Notes from David Yang

Heinrich Biber, workplace ethics, and the Age of Enlightenment

By

David Yang

Have you ever done something that screwed over your boss but was to your benefit?

Notes from David Yang

Alessandra in Geneva, Part II

By

Alessandra Yang

I once heard that the reason god destroyed the Tower of Babel was because he understood that working towards a goal is what makes us human.

Help ensure our continued success

NCMF relies on the assistance of corporations, foundations, and most importantly, you.

Make a GiftVolunteer
Season
17

About

The Newburyport Chamber Music Festival fosters an interactive partnership between residents and visiting artists by engaging the community in the process of creating and presenting chamber music in Newburyport’s unique architectural spaces. Read more >>

Corporate Sponsors

Stay Tuned

Receive periodical emails about our Organization and Events. Let us know if you would like a print copy of our summer brochure sent to your home.

Subscribe
© Newburyport Chamber Music Festival | PRIVACY POLICY | made by MacPHee Design