Songs My Mother Taught Me

I admit this past week has been a low one. Before I go further, let me say that my immediate family is healthy and we have everything we need. It could be much worse! That said, I am really missing my extended family. They are in Georgia, so it isn’t far, but not knowing when I will get to see them in person again is weighing on me. It’s the same for my husband—his folks are also relatively close, but none of us want to risk making them sick.

My friend and collaborator Sangeetha Ekambaram and I have been making recordings remotely since March, both for ourselves and for fun. One of the songs we recorded is “Songs My Mother Taught Me",” by Antonín Dvorák, poetry by Adolf Heyduk. When she sent me the finished product, I admit that I got weepy. I’d love to say it is because of our incredible performance, but no. It is because of the longing inherent in the music. The melody is gorgeous and memorable, and there is also a tug between the pianist and singer. Logically, this happens because the pianist plays in 6/8, while the singer’s line is in 2/4. However, I like to think of the piano as time marching on (and that is so often our job) and of the singer as someone who wants to move back in time, and hold on to happy memories.

(I also got weepy because the word “mother” is in the song title and, well, I miss my mom).

Sangeetha sings this in Czech; below is an English translation by Natalie Macfarren:

Songs my mother taught me, in the days long vanished; seldom from her eyelids were the teardrops banished.

Now I teach my children each melodious measure. Oft the tears are flowing, oft they flow from my memory’s treasure.