America the Beautiful
Music by Samuel Ward (1848-1903); arr. Paul John Rudoi (b. 1985)
Text by Katharine Lee Bates (1859-1929)

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country love
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
Till selfish gain no longer stain
The banner of the free!

Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

Lejanas Voces (Distant Voices)
Music by Carlos Cordero (b. 1992)
Text by Lilia Boscán de Lombardi (1942-2019) and Carlos Cordero

Mvmt. I
Lejanas Voces
en el campo de la hierba
entre mi corazón y el infinito.

Translation
Distant voices
on the field of grass
between my heart and the infinite.

Mvmt. II
Lejanas voces,
las escucho dentro de mí.
Como si aún me cantaran
las más hermosas melodías. 

Translation
Distant voices,
I hear them inside of me.
As if they still sang to me
The most beautiful melodies.

Leron, Leron Sinta (Leron, Leron My Dear)
Traditional Filipino Folk Song; arr. Saunder Choi (b. 1988)

Leron, Leron sinta
Buko ng papaya
Dala-dala’y buslo,
Sisidlan ng bunga.
Pagdating sa dulo’y,
Nabali ang sanga.
Kapos kapalaran,
Humanap ng iba. 

Gumising ka, neneng;
Tayo’y manampalok.
Dalhin mo ang buslong,
Sisidlan ng hinog.
Pagdating sa dulo’y,
Lalamba-lambayog.
Kumapit ka, neneng;
Baka ka mahulog.

Ang iibigin ko’y
Babaeng maganda.
Ang rosas niya’y pito;
Ang saya niya’y siyam.
Ang lalakarin niya’y
Parte ng dinulang.
Isang pinggang pansit
Ang kanyang kalaban.

Translation
Leron, Leron my dear,
Blossoms of the papaya tree,
With a bamboo basket,
He’d gather some fruits.
But when he reached the top of the tree
The branch broke.
Oh, what a trick of fate,
He had to search for another.

Wake up, *neneng;
Let’s pick some tamarind fruits.
Take the bamboo baskets,
To put the ripe ones in.
Upon reaching the top of the tree,
The branches swayed heavily.
Hold on tight, neneng,
As you might fall.

The one I will love
Is a beautiful girl.
She has seven roses
And nine dresses.
The journey she will take
Is the distance of a table.
A plate of noodles
Is her foe!

*neneng is a colloquial term referring to a girl and does not have an adequate English translation.

Rimas Tropicales (Tropical Rhymes)
Music by Tania León (b. 1943)
Text by Carlos Pintado (b. 1974)

III. La Guitarra
Cuando canta la guitarra
Es una isla bailando,
Una sirena soñando
Que en otra vida es cigarra.
Canta ella y alguien narra
El esplendor de la palma,
Suena el tambor, ya no hay calma,
La fiesta no tiene fin:
¿Será que un dulce clarín,
Está sonando en el alma?

Translation
III. The Guitar
When the guitar sings
It is like an island dancing,
A mermaid dreaming that she
In another life is a cicada.
She sings and someone tells
Of the splendor of the palm tree,
The drum resounds, calm is ended,
The party goes on and on:
Is it a sweet bugle call
That is sounding from the soul?

El Manisero (The Peanut Vendor)
Music and text by Moisés Simons (1889-1945); arr. Yosvany Estepe Díaz

Caserita no te acuestes ya llegué
El manisero llegó
Si te quieres por el pico divertir
Cómprame un cucuruchito de maní 
Que calentito, y rico esta (traigo mani)
Ya no se puede pedir más
Ay, caserita no me dejes ir
Cómprame mi maní
Porque después te vas a arrepentir
Y va a ser muy tarde ya
El manisero ven que ya llegó
Ya está aqui 
Cuando la calle, sola esta
Acera de mi corazón
El manisero, entona su pregón
Y si la niña escucha su cantar
Llama desde su balcón
Esta noche no voy a poder dormir
Sin comerme un cucurucho de maní
El manisero, entona su pregón
El manisero se va
Ya se fué 

Translation
Homemaker don’t lie down, I’m here!
The peanut vendor has arrived.
If you want to have a treat for your mouth
Buy a cone of peanuts!
How warm, and delicious (I bring peanuts)
One can hardly ask for more!
Ah, little homemaker, don’t let me go
Buy my peanuts
Because, later, you will regret it
And it will already be too late...
The peanut vendor has arrived
They are here.
When the street is empty,
On the sidewalk of my heart
The peanut vendor makes his announcement
And, if the girl hears his song,
She calls him from her balcony.
I won’t be able to sleep tonight
Without having eaten a cone of peanuts!
The peanut vendor makes his announcement 
and then the peanut vendor leaves.
He’s gone!

TaReKiTa
Music and text by Reena Esmail (b. 1983)

Dha Tarekita, Dhum Tarekita, Nom Tarekita Takadimitaka
Takadimi Takajanu Takadimi Na

****

“Practically speaking, this piece is based on sounds the Indian drum, the tabla, makes, called “bols” — they are onomatopoeic sounds that imitate the sound of the drum. The result is something like a scat would be in jazz – ecstatic, energetic, rhythmic music that feels good on the tongue.” -Reena

Fengyang Song
Anhui Folk Song; arr. Chen Yi (b. 1953)

Zuǒshǒu luó yòushǒu gǔ 
Shǒu názhe luógǔ
Lái chànggē

Bié de gē er wǒ yě bù huì chàng
Dǎn huì chàng gè Fèng yáng gē 

Dé er líng dōng piāo yī piāo

Translation
With a gong in my left hand 
And a drum in my right
Come, let’s sing!

I don’t know how to sing any other songs
I only know the Fengyang song.

Bong, ding, dong! Float and drift!

Tipitin
Music and text by María Grever (1885-1951); arr. Raul Dominguez

Ladrón de amores me llaman, por robarme su cariño,
Como un juguete que a un niño se le antojara al pasar.
Con él, me robé, tus besos y un rizo de tus cabellos,
Pero me he enredado en ellos, y no me puedo escapar.

Todas las mañanas bajo tu ventana, canto esta canción.
Y es sólo el sonido del fuerte latido, de mi corazón.

Con miguitarra en la mano, y en ella un ramo de flores,
Por las mañanas temprano, voy cantando mis amores.
Y en mi cantar voy diciendo, que nunca te he de olvidar,
Que aunque la vida me cueste, el cantar no he de dejar.

Translation
They call me a thief of love, for having stolen your love,
Like a toy a child fancies when walking by it.
With it, I stole your kisses and a lock of your hair,
But now I’m tangled in it, and I can’t set myself free.

Every morning below your window, I sing this song.
This is the sound of the strong beating of my heart.

With my guitar in my hand, and in it a bouquet of flowers,
I go out every morning, singing about my love.
And in my song, I keep saying that I will never forget you,
Even if I die, I will never stop singing.

N-400 Erasure Songs
Music by Melissa Dunphy (b. 1980)

2. N-400 (an erasure)

i.
notice: any immigration
notice: hearing
notice: see
notice: you

ii.
to the immigrant :
 homeland is a process delayed.

iii.
 fingerprints disposable 
 a number unpermitted
 immigrants: are
 all of the above

iv.
about the United States:
do not support the criminal history

v.
you are what you have  abandoned

vi.
identify: alien
copy: self

vii.
separate your open wounds in the process

viii.
verify: all has  been destroyed

ix.
naturalization can not capture
your free
can not level your personal
for political

x.
this application simplified
is persecution of 
your own safety
to ensure social security

xi.
reschedule
 reschedule
 reschedule
reschedule
 a time
 time
 time
 again time
 time
 date and
time

xii.
 resubmit
 resubmit
 resubmit

xiii.
 please

xiv.
you will
 never
 belong

— Laurel Chen

That Lonesome Road
Music and text by James Taylor (b. 1948) and Don Grolnick (1947-1996); arr. Simon Carrington (b. 1942)

Walk down that lonesome road all by yourself
Don't turn your head back over your shoulder
And only stop to rest yourself when the silver moon
Is shining high above the trees

If I had stopped to listen once or twice
If I had closed my mouth and opened my eyes
If I had cooled my head and warmed my heart
I'd not be on this road tonight

Carry on
Never run feeling sorry for yourself
It doesn't save you from your troubled mind

Walk down that lonesome road all by yourself
Don't turn your head back over your shoulder
And only stop to rest yourself when the silver moon
Is shining high above the trees

Ave Que Emigra (Migrating Bird)
Music and text by Gaby Moreno (b. 1946); arr. Alexander Nishibun (b. 1987)

Vengo desde muy lejos
Buscando el azul del cielo
Siguiendo predicamentos
Vengo desde muy lejos 

Recuerdos desde mi infancia
Que a veces parten el alma
Mi guate* nunca la olvido
La llevo siempre conmigo
Cansados de estar corriendo
En tiempo de cacería
Alzo en alto mi vuelo
Como el ave que emigra
Vengo desde muy lejos
Buscando el azul del cielo
Siguiendo predicamentos
Vengo desde muy lejos 

Y como uno se aferra
A un pedazo de tierra
Tarde o temprano llega
Arde el aire sin tregua
Cansados de estar corriendo
En tiempo de cacería
Alzo en alto mi vuelo
Como el ave que emigra
Aunque vuelo, sigo estando aquí 

*an affectionate abbreviation for Guatamala

Translation
I come from far away
Searching for the blue sky
Following predicaments
I come from far away

Memories from my childhood
That sometimes break the soul
I never forget my Guate
I always carry it with me
Tired of running
In hunting time
I raise my flight high
Like the migrating bird
I come from far away
Searching for the blue sky
Following predicaments
I come from far away

And like one clings
To a piece of land
Sooner or later it arrives
The air burns without respite
Tired of running
In hunting time
I raise my flight high
Like the migrating bird
Even though I fly, I'm still here

Manush Dhoro, Manush Bhojo (Hold Fast to People, Cherish People)
Music and text by Baul Rashid Uddin (b. 1962); arr. Shabnam Abedi (b. 1995)

Manush¹ dhoro, manush bhojo,
Shon boli re pagol mon
Manusher bhitore manush, koriteche birajon
Manush ki ar emni bote,
Jar chorone jogot lute
Ei na poncho bhuter bote,
Kheliteche niranjon?
Choddo talar upore dalan,
Tar bhitore phuler bagan
Laili ar Mojnu dewan,
Shukhe kore je ashon

Translation
Hold fast to people, cherish people,
Listen, I tell you, O crazy mind.
Humanity exists within himself
Is he merely called “human”,
The one at whose feet the world falls?
Is this not the five ghosts’² pretext –
Their Aarti³ play?
Above the 14 floors⁴ stands a mansion;
Within it, a garden of flowers
Laili and Majnu⁵ attend as ministers;
In joy, they prepare the seat.

¹manush often signifies the indwelling Divine/Human; line 3 reflects “within the human, the Human dwells”
²the “five ghosts” represent the five senses or passions that mislead the mind
³Aarti is the lamp-waving worship rite; here portrayed as “play” or spectacle
⁴”14 floors” evokes the fourteen realms of Indic cosmology
⁵Laili and Majnu are lovers from Persian lore; they suggest love serving the seat of the Divine Human

Plakatap
Music by Sydney Guillaume (b. 1982)

Text by Gabriel T. Guillaume

Enfants de tous pays,
Jeunesses de partout,
Chantez, sautez, dansez!
A pied ou en vélo,
Sacoche sur le dos,
Plakatap – Plakatap,
Plakatap – Plakatap! 

Fêtez, chantez!
Célébrons d’un seul cœur la grande Humanité
Et chantons tous en chœur notre Fraternité!

Malgré ce qui se passe,
En dépit de l’espace,
Nous sommes une famille
De garçons et de filles.
Vivons dans l’Unité
D’une seul Humanité.
Chantez, pompez, dansez!
Plakatap – Plakatap! 

Avec le même amour,
Allons jour après jour,
Chantez, pompez, dansez
La Ronde Fraternelle
Des enfants de la Terre.
Plakatap – Plakatap,
Plakatap – Plakatap!

Translation
Children of all countries,
Youth from everywhere,
Sing, jump, dance!
On foot or by bike,
Our bangs on our backs,
*Plakatap – Plakatap,
Plakatap – Plakatap!

Let’s party, let’s sing!
Let’s celebrate Humanity with one heart,
And let us all sing our Fraternity in chorus!

Regardless of what’s happening,
In spite of the distance,
We are one family
Of young men and women.
Let us dwell in the Unity
Of one Humanity.
Sing, jump, dance!
Plakatap – Plakatap!

United in the same love,
Let us go day by day,
Singing, jumping, dancing
The Fraternal Dance
Of the children of the World.
Plakatap – Plakatap
Plakatap – Plakatap!

*The lyric ‘Plakatap’ is not a word, but rather a rhythmic, non-lexical chant that imitates the sound of a rhythm.

The Road Home
“Prospect” tune from Southern Harmony; adapted by Stephen Paulus (1949-2014)
Text by Michael Dennis Browne (b. 1940)

Tell me, where is the road
I can call my own
That I left, that I lost
So long ago?
All these years I have wandered
Oh, when will I know
There's a way, there's a road
That will lead me home

After wind, after rain
When the dark is done
As I wake from a dream
In the gold of day
Through the air there's a calling
From far away
There's a voice I can hear
That will lead me home

Rise up, follow me
Come away, is the call
With the love in your heart
As the only song

There is no such beauty
As where you belong
Rise up, follow me
I will lead you home