Allan Pettersson's

Seventh Symphony

in Words


from the performance of the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Sergiu Comissiona

Live recording in Berwarld Concert Hall, october 1990

CD Caprice 21411

Note : the text that can be read with the corresponding music is in red








Eyes wide opened seek for the sky, seek for the wind.

To breathe deeply, the air disperses, rays appear. 






From everywhere, haze is forming and rises.

There, right ahead, a poisonous shape swells and approaches.

Sweaty temples, it is only a twisted tree where haze always hangs.

Seating on the ground, the face in arm's hollow, the blood has to calm down.

2'  I still see you mother, with your still blind latest child, tightly clasped against your warmth, for him there was nobody else but you.

Your image blurs, here it comes again.








The twisted tree stands in front of me. Its branches rock at the breeze, shivering. Birds wander about and attend to their council.

They are working out on the sentence. Thousands of wings that want to impress me. Here I am.

I am coming and look, high up they fly, swirling up.

I am close now, the low foliage draws aside in a dazzling yellow arc.

It will not bring you back to me.























The passage has closed up. I shall pass, against it rises your memory, I shall pass.

The tree towers above, still. I shall stand still, your face, pressing vision, determinates my will.

It stands, still ; my strengths spin, in your name.

Spectre, against it, you challenge it inside of me.

It does not move; your love holds me, it is your love that go through my veins.

It is frozen;
 you stand me up, your desire keeps on its conquest, imperious you fill my body with your own light, I close my eyes, violent air forces its way into my lungs, you make my blood beat.

I watch, dizziness, I am burning inside.

Around me, I cannot see anything, the tree is at my feet, it is just a plant, tossing between my fingers.

One can still hear it.








From the haze, one can tell some moving presence, wherever we look. A light, I should dare, tend to this hope, pass between the shadows that gather, so close that they become a passage; there, very near, the light.











Sun ! Upright, its rays flatten me on the ground, fervour is coming back.

Spectre, I still hear you, you are wearing yourself out, I shall hold on longer than you will, do you hear me, longer. I rise, my arms wide opened to the four winds; my only breath in the colossal air can it win, I think so, yes !

North, west, south, east, breezes on the mountain, dawn, at last I gaze upon you.

The world is at peace, I can see it now, green forests of summer's mornings.






Young sun, your brightness digs in the heart of the valleys. Dark veil. Spectre, you again, who are you setting about ? I can hear somebody calling, in this columned forest, hides a little presence. "I find you, in my arms, child, cuddle up to me. I know of your fear, I conquered the same, so can you, go, now, against it".  The child goes on, by himself, facing the shadows. They withdraw, I walk to him, closer, I cannot see his face yet; he smiles, enlightened.











Come in my arms, hero, fill yourself with trust, your courage strengthened your heart, you can gaze upon the world, come see the sun setting down on the valley, where dark green turns to blue, where step by step, the night lands."

A distant storm, "It is going away, have no fear, you see, it is far now, take my hand, you are shivering, it is going away, you want to be reassured, we can hardly hear it, you hold my hand tight, see how everything is quiet, nothing moves, you must believe me, take a deep breath, listen, it is communion. "

At the end of the night, no blow of wind, we are the last ones awakened, alive.