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Sarah Bowman
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Salle Sainte Cécile
I stored away all your letters
It's been years since they've been read
Now I long for the tiniest description
of the time that we had
You said you've aged so much
to find me just as I was then
Now I'm looking at pictures I don't recognize
Places that are only in the past
On Thursday you fly down from Boston
so on Thursday I will write
To the children of Sainte Trinity
To the people and their plight
On Friday I'll send my whole heart
from Allmend to Port au Prince
and ask the world to give their attention
to the people who need their music
Twenty seconds on the twelfth
the work of fifty years or more
Salle Sainte Cecile
reduced to rubble on the floor
The Sisters of St Margaret
The letters of Reverend Cesar
A hall that gave a nation its music
is no more
I call to Dominique in my sleep
I dream of walking between the tents
The residents are safe and sleeping
Quiet is the land
You write of wounded reunions
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
You write of the plans
You sent me a piece of the old school
to hold in my hands
Twenty seconds on the twelfth
the work of fifty years or more
Salle Sainte Cecile
reduced to rubble on the floor
The Sisters of St Margaret
The letters of Reverend Cesar
A hall that gave a nation its music
will live on
Roman Catholic Episcopal Protestant and Voodoo
All implored together in God's name
The social barriers had also fallen
We worked with hammers and hands
So many people hungry
without a tent in the rain
Even the people who have a good house
are afraid they're afraid
Words by Sarah Bowman, inspired by Rev. David Cesar
Script for Salle Sainte Cecile (English by Sarah Bowman,
inspired and translated by Jean Montès into Haitian Creole)
The Haitian people have the greatest resilience and will to make so much with so little. Men playing guitars with bicycle parts as strings, children sharing a cello with 5 of their classmates, ensembles rehearsing in a spot where the rubble has been swept aside- all this came soon after the people experienced such great loss. Haiti's will is not broken. Its strength is an example for the world. Music is to Haiti's will, what breath is to our lungs. Haiti is healing, its children are healing. The value that music has to them is seen in their faces as they touch an instrument for the first time since before the earthquake. Disbelief subsides, and a sense of present and future returns. Touching the strings, putting ones lips to the brass, these children learn of a world beyond them who knows them, cares for them, and loves them from afar. The children who lost their families and friends are united with a new love, a new hope, and from this and the music that comes after, Haiti is reborn.
Pep Ayisien gin ampil fos ak kouraj poul fe ampil bagay avekti cras sa yo ginyin an. Neg kap joue guita ki fet ak fil bisiklet, ti moun kap patage yon instruman ak 5 lot camarad, group kap repete yon kote ke yo sot retire ramblet. Tout sa rive apre ke yo te fek subi ampil mize et ampil perte. Haiti pap kase!
Couraj li se yon examp pou le monde antie. Pou Ayisen muzik se kankou souf ki bay lavi-a. Haiti ap geri, ti moun yo ap geri. Nou ka we vale ke muzic giyin pou ti moun yo nan figi yo le yo manyen yon Instrument espoi yo ginyin pou kouniea e pou demin retounin sou figi yo. Le yo magnin kod instruman-an, le yo met bouch yo sou instruman en fe yo! Ti moun sa yo konin ke ginyin moun lot bo dlo ki konnin ke yo la, ki vle ede yo e ki rinmin yo malgre distanse ki separe yo ak moun sa yo. Ti moun ki pedi fanmi, zanmi reuni avek yon nouvel amou, yon nouvel espoi et avek sa mete ak muzik. Haiti ap rekampe pi ferm!
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