Jeu, Piano & baryton.

Hello dear friends young composers.

Little music scribbled at the beginning of the year always on my dear and dear Jules Laforgue, too soon died of phtisia at the age of 25 it seems to me.
Always his biting irony.
Again, he takes as a witness the moon that never responds, remains cold, like a Rose of the basilica of silence that is the night.
In French, the hidden games of meaning are absolutely fascinating, and the metric of the poem itself gives me a feeling of incantation or at least of scansion.
I would even say that we touch on certain expressionist images when Laforgue evokes the head of Jean-Baptiste absent from the dish that is the moon!
This poet has not been set to music to my knowledge. So I have dared for several years my little experiments by trying to serve him sincerely.

I added an English translation in subtitles, but I'm not sure it can be totally respectful of the black magic of this text.
Good listening and do not hesitate to criticize!