to drift under the setting sun
Edgar Degas - Coastal Strip at Sunset
Claude Debussy was 17 or 18 years old when he wrote Beau soir to a poem by Paul Bourget. According to François Lesure's catalogue, this would be Debussy's sixth composition. How does a mere teenager even have the emotional capacity to write something like this? I can only feel envious for the kind of inspiration that must have gripped Debussy when he read Bourget's text for the first time. What kind of colors did Debussy see as he read the text, as the notes would slowly stream into his consciousness to encapsulate the image envisioned within a piece? The piece is definitely characteristic of the late-romantic / impressionistic era and surprisingly mature to be one of any composer's earliest pieces.
Even consider the text of the poem itself, for when I read this I cannot help but scoff at the shallowness of my own writing. Looking upon the score, I can't help but be amazed at its simplicity, yet it's apparent that Debussy has a great grasp on compositional techniques. As with many other impressionistic pieces, you have a duple figure against triplets, which serves to seemingly exaggerate the waxing and waning of the tempo. While it's typically the piano in triple with the voice in duple, as the piece reaches to its climax, I love how Debussy puts the main gauche into duples against main droite's triples, with the first of each triplet figure doubled in the higher octave.
I really hope you enjoy this piece. It's absolutely beautiful.
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Original French:
Lorsque au soleil couchant les rivières sont roses
Et qu'un tiède frisson court sur les champs de blé,
Un conseil d'être heureux semble sortir des choses
Et monter vers le coeur troublé.Un conseil de goûter le charme d'être au monde
Cependant qu'on est jeune et que le soir est beau,
Car nous nous en allons, comme s'en va cette onde:
Elle à la mer, nous au tombeau.
Translated English:
When the rivulets are rosy in the setting sun,
And a mild tremor runs over the wheat fields,
An exhortation to be happy seems to emanate from things
And rises towards the troubled heart.An exhortation to enjoy the charm of being alive
While one is young and the evening is beautiful,
For we are going on, as this stream goes on:
The stream to the sea, we to the grave.