News has a kind of mystery

Opera details:

Opera title:

Nixon in China

Composer:

John Coolidge Adams

Language:

English

Synopsis:

Nixon in China Synopsis

Libretto:

Nixon in China Libretto

Translation(s):

Not entered yet.

Aria details:

Type:

aria

Role(s):

Richard Nixon

Voice(s):

Baritone

Act:

1.03a

Previous scene: Your flight was smooth
Next scene: We live in an unsettled time

Libretto/Lyrics/Text:

Nixon:
News has a kind of mystery;
When I shook hands with Chou En-lai
On this bare field outside Peking
Just now, the world was listening

Chou:
May I –

Nixon:
Though we spoke quietly
The eyes and ears of history
Caught every gesture –

Chou:
--introduce—

Nixon:
And every word, transforming us
As we, transfixed –

Chou:
-- the Deputy
Minister of Security

Nixon:
Made history. [Our shaking hands
Were shaping time. Each moments stands
Out sharp and clear.

Chou:
-- Army.] May I --

Nixon: On our flight over from Shanghai

Chou: The Minister --

Nixon:
-- the countryside
Looked drab and gray. "Breughel," Pat said
"We came in peace for all mankind"
I said, I was put in mind
Of our Apollo astronauts
Simply --

Chou:
-- of the United States

Nixon:
Achieving a great human dream.
We live in an unsettled time.
Who are our enemies? Who are
Our friends? The Eastern Hemisphere
Beckoned to us, and we have flown
East of the sun, west of the moon
Across an ocean of distrust
Filled with the bodies of our lost;
The earth's Sea of Tranquility.
It's prime time in the U.S.A
Yesterday night. They watch us now;
The three main networks' colors glow
Livid though drapes onto the lawn.
Dishes are washed and homework done,
The dog and grandma fall asleep,
A car roars past playing loud pop,
Is gone. As I look down the road
I know America is good
At hearts. An Old cold warrior
Piloting towards an unknown shore
Though shoals. The rats being to chew
The sheets. There's murmuring below.
Now there's ingratitude! My hand
Is steady as a rock. A sound
Like mourning doves reaches my ears
Nobody is a friend of ours.
Let's face it. If we don't succeed
On this summit, our name is mud.
We're not out of the woods, not yet,
The nation's heartland skips a beat
As our hands shield the spinning globe
From the flame-throwers of the mob.
We must press on. We know we want --
What -- Oh yes --

English Libretto or Translation:

Not entered yet.

Sheetmusic in our database with this aria

American Arias: Baritone/Bass

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