With an ongoing attention, Heather Dohollau’s sensitive and mysterious poetry leads us to the very core of things. And Nature brightens up, and here we are at the very location of poetry, of the very essence of poetry, inaccessible to words, where all illusions and appearances fall, where the mountain, the trees, the rose, a fountain, a bird… reveal us to ourselves.
For the bird
There is no sky
His singing is blue
The composer has found in Heather Dohollau a sort of poetic ideal: a discreet, light and almost ethereal language, in which music can freely unfold its magic, its impetus, its emotion to better lead us to “l’ange de la porte du jardin” (the angel at the garden gate):
Does he protect us from the outside
Or is it for us to cross his transparency
To be at last visible?