I. CONFESSION

II. SIN
1. Thy sin like some murky fog...
2. The mind will have its freedom...
3. The Devil now and hourly...
4. Idleness the Devil's soft cushion...
5. Sinfonia
6. Foul muckheaps and loathsome turd...
8. Like as coil'd eels in basket..
9. Sinfonia
10.This sermon cutteth like whetted...

III. DEATH
1. Sinfonia
2. For Death is like a net...
3. Flowers we are...
4. For each man his own death...
5. ...flowers we all are...
6. None can be so ignorant...
7. As into some fair...
8. Righteous custom thus demandeth...
9. Delicate as a blossom is...

IV. SPRING
1. Thy faith's not dreaming...
2. Have a look at the starry, moonlit firmament...
3. (Summary of the Sayings of P. B.)
4. When again it's springtime...

“…I cannot, I must not, die
before
I have found purity.”
(Attila József)

Some will deride it, some rail at it, some others recoil from it in horror; some will understand more of it, some less. The brave in body, the jousters and jesters, the giggling-gaggling roisters will laugh some of it to scorn; but not all of it. Those sunken in depravity fond of idolatry, abominable lechery, and intemperance will berate it; and speak of it with scoffs and scorns... Those that are but beginning to taste of the temptations of the Devil will recoil from it in horror. And those that are sick and tired of wrestling with the Devil, will take heart and comfort from it, seeing that they are not alone in the Devil's temptations
(Péter Bormenisza: The Devil's Temptations)

1. CONFESSION
When I was come to the writing this Book of Sermons, laying me a trap, Lord God secretly sent devilish wily temptations. Spirits, rushing at me, urged and egged me to write of, importuned me to write of those demonic, harassing wily temptations. But so hideous visions did beset me, I shrank from writing and cried besseeching the Lord God: would he please have to push them back, all the quicker they grew and grew and visited me all these num'roustemptations. Thus I had no choice of doing except, utterly against my will, sore blushing shameful, whether or no needs must I send forth my writings abroad, to make thus any but a blind man see his own odiousnesse'en as a basilisk would his mirror'd self.

2. SIN
1. Thy sin like some murky fog, else some turbid vapour, else some thickbuilt stone wall; hideth and shutteth from sight the Maker.
2. The mind will have its freedom, neither by chaining or tethering, none can entrammel it. Nay but endlessly, nightly and daily when we lie and sleep and dream, it wandereth.
3. The Devil now and hourly stirreth stumps and driveth to starkly, stiffly deafen, blind and lame thee knock-kneed; ev'ry godly and pious word he stops thee from turning thy ear to.
4. Idleness the Devil's soft cushion.
5. Sinfonia
6. Foul muckheaps and loathsome turd till pok'st thou them not, they stink not so badly, soon as stirrest them uo,right then the smell of the putrefaction issueth. Likewise most men, whene'er not vexed by temptations, oft keep quiet: but when belabour'd by the Devil's instigation, up they start.
7. Sinfonia [...but when belabour'd by the Devil's instigation, up they start...]
8. Like as coil'd eels in basket, or as the maggots in carrion: when as turn'd over, squirm, twitch, wamble, thus turneth in us all too ev'ry obnoxiousness.
9. Sinfonia
10. This sermon cutteth like whetted, edged spiky mattocks such as were employ'd by John to till your arrogant, wicked and stubborn, stiff impenitence, to make you aware of youd inward,  inveterate and vicious corruption.

III. DEATH
1. Sinfonia
2. For Death is like a net thaat catches birds, taketh and snareth, spareth thee not.
3. Flowers we are, frail flowers.
4. For each man his own death is very hideous, a horribly grim matter. For bringing first full many ailments, pains suff'rings, mental and copr'ral tribulations, much grief, wretchedness, turbulence and quavering for all living creatures; lastly the body and soul, 'midst great frightenings, startlings and vile abominations, with the sinews, limbs and ligaments rived asunder, Death dissevers; thy body turneth bad-smelling, mould'ring, a hangful of ashes.
5. ...flowers we all are.
6. None can be so ignorant, who should not know that he must any day die and come tot he last harm. For all that he who feels life's last light is dying, quivereth, winceth, crieth, waileth. Cri'st thou lackaday? Welladay? Ev'ryone payeth his debt once, thou too hast to go unto where others keep going, to the same we had all been born.
7. As into some fair, redolent, blossoming and sweet, abundant, teeming orchard, else to some sweet delicate luxurious hall we must go through locked up, wrought-iron and bolted entrance to get in, so shall we enter life eternal to God through Death's iron door, by an ironshod gateway we pass.
8. Righteous custom thus demandeth: bury thy fellow man: into a decent coffin lay him properly, the body do not ever throw off naked, nay but wrap around him white cerecloth, covering him up dutifully: see him out tot he graveside and compassionately, loving-kindly set and lay him in Earth's enfolding womb.
9. Delicate as a blossom is, or as shadows are, or a gossamer, like a dream is... man is a nothing ...

IV. SPRING
1. Thy faith's not dreaming, but is a living being: to his Maker cleaves it ever, embraceth Him, and as the daylight sheds light over all the world, it enlightens all; in hearts such hope it engenders, herewith the sinful their own pardon may dare to gain above.
2.Have a look at the starry, moonlit firmament, ott he sun in wonder, trusting that each or them will smile at us, cherish us, ever ... cherish us, smile at us ever!
3. (Summary of the Sayings of P. B.) ... in hearts such hope it engenders, wherewith the sinful their own pardon may dare to gain above ... and freely obtain it from God's grace ...
4. When again it's springtime we see trees put forth buds and come out in leaflets; coppices, hedges, plantations 'gin to renew again, jubilates each man, knowing summer's coming; those bleak chilly, nippy. foggy, slishy, harrowing wintery days are gone: and hail come ye long, sweet sunny, warming, meadowbedecking, green-beclothing, creating and nourishing summery days, wherein every living being's quickening, a-stirring: birds, animals, hopping, lfuttering, horses, roosters, peacocks, bullocks, ewes, rams, lambs; each fair garden, riverbank, vineyard and vegetation 'gins a-growing and over again now the long-famish'd poor, winter-worn, shivering comfort and warmth shall have, warmth and comfort...

FIRST REVIEWS

Péter Várnai
The Budapest Chamber Ensemble made its debut with seven new compositions
Magyar Hírlap (October 7, 1968)

[…] We must, however, make special mention of the concert’s greatest highlight: György Kurtág’s work titled “The Sayings of Péter Bornemisza,” written for voice and piano. Kurtág’s music is always characterized by emotional richness, and this piece is no exception. In this forty-minute work – likely unique in the vocal-piano repertoire – he captivates the listener throughout, both through the dramatic tension of the narrative and the diversity of the musical devices employed. Kurtág gives almost every word its own musical image, or more precisely, he conveys the text’s message through music. He possesses a gift granted to very few in our time: he can move from tension to resolution, from tragic depths to the tranquility of a starry spring sky.

This concert was a celebration of our musical life not only because of the works performed, but also because of the performing ensemble making its debut, which brought at least as much joy. The Budapest Chamber Ensemble was formed from the best of our instrumentalists; in addition to the individual abilities of its members, András Mihály’s almost unparalleled coaching and leadership raised the ensemble to the very high standard we heard. Pianist Lóránt Szűcs– our pianist most attuned to modern music– deserves special praise, especially for his virtuoso performance of the piano part in the Kurtág piece, which is extraordinarily demanding in every respect. Alongside András Mihály, we must speak of Erika Sziklay with the highest regard. This outstanding singer, the heroine of so many premieres of new Hungarian and foreign works, once again demonstrated the full extent of her musical, stylistic, and interpretive abilities in the works by Darvas, Kurtág, and Durkó.

András Pernye
Modern Hungarian Music – The Budapest Chamber Ensemble’s Debut Concert
Magyar Nemzet (October 3, 1968)

[…] The final part of the evening, after the second intermission, featured a single work lasting nearly three-quarters of an hour: György Kurtág’s Sayings of Péter Bornemisza– Concerto for Piano and Soprano, Op. 7, performed with almost unbelievable perfection by Erika Sziklay and Lóránt Szűcs.

Kurtág’s artistic and creative approach is grounded in the understanding that the artist can never master life – at most, only serve it. He does not seek to conquer life or seize fate by the throat; he only wishes to profess. Kurtág’s music walks with head bowed, preferring and accepting everything else over violence. He was not even granted the closing D-major chord of the Cantata Profana as an appendix, not even to the extent that such a solution was possible for Penderecki’s Hiroshima or Stabat Mater. Kurtág seeks to create his own system of norms; his darkness and his light exist solely for himself, each constantly containing the other. In the same way, sin lurks behind virtue, and forgiveness precedes damnation. This is how Kurtág creates his musical world, seemingly devoid of contrasts, yet within which a tremendous tension pulses.

Kurtág’s music is the voice of fear, but not the terror that has been elevated to an aesthetic principle and consolidated in recent decades. Rather, it is the fear of arbitrarily and unjustly resolving problems from the outside, problems that have not been fully explored or experienced to the very end. It is the fear that this might come to dominate something to which, by right, it should remain only a servant. Confession–Sin–Death–Spring: this is the subtitle of the work’s four movements, composed to the weighty words of the great 16th-century preacher-poet. In its fundamental approach to text and melody, it follows the techniques of the New Viennese School, but in the first three movements, it is even more austere and uncompromising than those. The massive intervals often shatter the words, but it is precisely in this that the tension– which barely tolerates the words and crushes the concepts– is revealed. The final movement, that is, the resolution, is made of the same material, merely revealing its other side to us. With this strict economy, Kurtág succeeded in avoiding the resolution’s appendage-like nature. Thus, he ensures that the problem resolves itself, without any violent external intervention and without the tension diminishing for a single moment. No triumphant elation, but rather a quietly undulating inner happiness and harmony speaks to us in the final bars of Kurtág’s work.