Nel dolce dell’oblio (In the sweet oblivion of sleep)
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- Le spectre de la rose (The ghost of the rose)
- Blumengruß (Flower Greeting)
- Gleich und gleich (One and the same)
- Die Spröde (The coy one)
- Die Bekehrte (The repentant one)
- Frühling übers Jahr (Spring all year long)
- Quando men vo (Musetta’s Waltz)
- Chiquitita la novia (Tiny bride)
- Con amores, la mi madre (With love, my mother)
- Del cabello más sutil (Of the most delicate hair)
- Song from Hermit Songs, Op. 29
| Nel dolce dell’oblio (In the sweet oblivion of sleep), Georg Friedrich Händel
Recitative In the sweetness of slumber, although sleeping, my beloved Phyllis’ thoughts are waking. And in the stillness Cupid never ceases to disturb her peace in many different ways while she sleeps. Aria Since sleep deceives her with the illusion of her lover’s image, she imagines, in the stillness, that she is embracing his chains. Recitative Thus she remains faithful to the beloved heart and in the shade she breathes the sunlight that she loves so dearly. Aria The deception enjoys it when thoughts are overwhelmed by feelings and believe the dream to be true. But when thoughts, on waking, reveal the error: then the deception feels its pain. Translation by J. Whybrow Recitativo Nel dolce dell’oblio, benché riposi, la mia Filli adorata veglia coi pensier suoi. E in quella quiete Amor non cessa mai, con varie forme, la sua pace turbar mentre elle dorme.
Giacché il sonno a lei dipinge la sembianza del suo bene, nella quiete né pur finge d’abbracciar le sue catene.
Cosi fida ella vive al cuor che adora, e nell’ombra respira la luce de quel sol per cui sospira. Aria Ha l’inganno il suo diletto Se i pensier mossi d’affetto, stiman ver cio che non sanno. Ma se poi si risveglia a un tale errore il pensier ridica a noi: ha l’inganno il suo dolore.
Text by Théophile Gautier, Translation by Bard Suverkrop When comes the new season, When the cold has vanished, Both of us will go, my beauty, To gather the lilies of the valley in the woods; Beneath our feet scattering the pearls of dew That we see in the morning trembling, We will go to hear the blackbirds Singing. The spring has come, my beauty, It is the month by the lovers blessed, And the bird preening its wing Sings his verses on the edge of the nest. Oh! Come then to this mossy bank, To speak of our beautiful love, And tell me with your voice so sweet: Forever!
Far, very far, straying from our path We make the hidden rabbit flee, And the deer, mirrored in the spring, Admires his great lowered antlers; Then, to our home we will return, all happy, all content, like baskets interwoven are our fingers, We return bringing some strawberries of the woods.
Quand viendra la saison nouvelle, Quand auront disparu les froids, Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle, Pour cueillir le muguet aux bois; Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles Que l’on voit au matin trembler, Nous irons écouter les merles Siffler. Le Printemps es venu ma belle; C’est le mois des amants béni, Et l’oiseau, satinant son aile, Dit ses vers au rebord du nid. Oh! Viens donc sur ce banc de mousse, Pour parle de nos beaux amours, Et dis moi de ta voix si douce: Toujours! Loin, bien loin, égarant nos courses, Faisons fuir le lapin caché, Et le daim au miroir des sources Admirant son grand bois penché; Puis, chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises, En paniers enlaçant nos doigts, Revenons, rapportant des fraises des bois. L’absence (Absence), Hector Berlioz Trans. Bard Suverkrop Return, return, my beloved! Like a flower far from the sun, the flower of my life is closed far from your brilliant smile! Between our hearts what distance! What space between our kisses! O bitter fate! O hard absence! O great, unappeasable desires! Return, return… Between here and there what fields,
Return, return… Reviens, reviens, ma bien aimé! Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée Loin de ton sourire vermeil! Entre nos cœurs quelle distance! Tant d’espace entre nos baisers! O sort amer! ô dure absence! O grands désirs inapaisés! Reviens, reviens… D’ici là-bas que de campagnes,
Reviens, reviens… Le spectre de la rose (The ghost of the rose), Hector Berlioz Text by Théophile Gautier, Translation by Bard Suverkrop Lift your closed eyelids, touched by a virginal dream! I am the ghost of a rose which you wore last night at the ball. You took me, still pearled with silver tears from the watering can, and, throughout the star-filled festival you carried me all the evening. Oh you who were the cause of my death, without your being able to chase it away, every night my rose-colored ghost will dance by your pillow. But fear nothing; I claim neither mass nor requiem. This light perfume is my soul, and I have come from paradise. My destiny is worthy of envy and to have a fate so beautiful more than one might have given his life; since your bosom is my tomb, And upon the alabaster where I rest a poet has written with a kiss: “Here lies a rose which all kings envy.” Soulève ta paupière close Qu’effleure un songe virginal! Je suis le spectre d’une rose Que tu portais hier au bal. Tu me pris, encore emperlée Des pleurs d’argent, de l‘arrosoir, Et, parmi la fête étoilée, Tu me promenas tout le soir. O toi qui de ma mort fut cause, Sans que tu puisses le chasser, toute les nuits mon spectre rose A ton chevet viendra danser. Mais ne crains rein, je ne réclame Ne messe ni De Profundis, Ce léger parfum est mon âme, Et j’arrive du paradis. Mon destin fut digne d’envie, Et pour avoir un sort si beau Plus d’un aurait donné sa vie; Car sur ton sein j’ai mon tombeau, Et sur l’albâtre où je repose Un poète avec un baiser Ecrivit: “Ci-git une rose, Que tous les rois vont jalouser.” Blumengruß (Flower Greeting), Hugo Wolf Text by Goethe, Translation by Bard Suverkrop The bouquet, that I picked, Greets you many thousand times! I have myself often bent over it, Ah, indeed a thousand times, And it to the heart pressed How many hundred thousand times! Der Strauß, den ich gepflücket, Grüße dich viel tausendmal! Ich habe mich oft gebücket, Ach, wohl eintausendmal, Und ihn ans Herz gedrücket Wie hunderttausendmal! Gleich und gleich (One and the same), Wolf From the ground, a little flower-bell Had sprouted early in lovely blossom; Then came a little bee and sipped from it gently: They surely must have been made for each other. Text by Goethe, Translation by Bard Suverkrop Ein Blumenglöckchen vom Boden hervor War früh gesprosset in lieblichem Flor; Da kam ein Bienchen und naschte fein: Die müssen wohl beide für einander sein.
Walked the shepherdess and sang, Young and beautiful and without cares, That her song resounded over the fields, So lala! Lerallala! So lala, rallala! Thyrsis offered her for a little kiss, two, three sheep right on the spot. Roguishly she looked a little while, But she sang and laughed on: So lala! Lerallala! So lala, rallala! And another offered her ribbons, And the third offered his heart; But she made, with heart and ribbons, So as with the lambs, a joke: Only lala! Lerallala!
An dem reinsten Frühlingsmorgen Ging die Schäferin und sang Jung und schön und ohne Sorgen, Dass es durch die Felder klang, So lala! Lerallala! So lala, rallala! Thyrsis bot ihr für ein Mäulchen Zwei, drei Schäfchen gleich am Ort, Schalkhaft blickte sie ein Weilchen; Doch sie sang und lachte fort: So lala! Lerallala! So lala, rallala! Und ein Andrer bot ihr Bänder, Und der Dritte bot sein Herz; Doch sie trieb mit Herz und Bändern So wie mit den Lämmern Scherz, Nur lala! Lerallala! Die Bekehrte (The repentant one), Wolf In the glow of the sunset I walked silently the woods through, Damon sat and blew his flute So that it from the rocks resounded: So lala! Rallala! Lalala! And he drew me down to him, Kissed me so gently and sweetly, And I said “blow again” And the good youth blew, So lala! Rallala! Lalala! My peace is now lost, My joy has flown away, And I hear before my ears Always only the old tones, So lala! Rallala! Lalala!
Bei dem Glanz der Abendröte Ging ich still den Wald entlang, Damon saß und blies die Flöte, Dass es von den Felsen klang, So lala! Rallala! Lalala! Und er zog mich zu sich nieder, Küsste mich so hold, so süß, Und ich sagte: “Blase wieder!” Und der gute Junge blies, So lala! Rallala! Lalala! Meine Ruh’ ist nun verloren, Meine Freude floh davon, Und ich hör’ vor meinen Ohren Immer nur den alten Ton, So lala! Rallala! Lalala! Frühling übers Jahr (Spring all year long), Wolf The flowerbed already loosens and lifts upward! Little bells, white as snow, are swaying there; Crocuses unfold their powerful glow, Some buds are emerald green, some blood-red; Primroses strut so pertly, Roguish violets, hidden with diligence; What all is there stirs and weaves, Enough, the spring is active and alive. But that which flowers most richly in the garden, That is my sweetheart’s charming spirit. There her glances constantly radiate for me, Her songs excite me, her words cheer me. Her heart is ever open and blossoming, Kindly when earnest, and honest in play. Although summer brings the rose and the lily, it competes with my sweetheart in vain. Text by Goethe, Translation by Bard Suverkrop Das Beet, schon lockert sich’s in die Höh’! Da wanken Glöckchen so weiß wie Schnee; Safran entfaltet gewalt’ge Glut, Smaragden keimt es und keimt wie Blut; Primeln stolzieren so naseweis, Schalkhafte Veilchen, versteckt mit Fleiß; Was auch noch alles da regt und webt, Genug, der Frühling, er wirkt und lebt. Doch was im Garten am reichsten blüht, Das ist des Liebchens lieblich Gemüt. Da glühen Blicke mir immerfort, Erregend Liedchen, erheiternd Wort. Ein immer offen ein Blütenherz, Im Ernste freundlich und rein im Scherz. Wenn Ros’ und Lilie der Sommer bringt, Er doch vergebens mit Liebchen ringt.
Text by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa, Translation by Aaron Green When I walk alone down the street, People stop and stare And examine my beauty From head to toe... And then I savor the cravings which from their eyes transpire And from the obvious charms they perceive The hidden beauties. So the scent of desire is all around me, It makes me happy! And you who know, who remembers and yearns, You shrink from me? I know why this is: You do not want to tell me of your anguish, But you feel like dying! Quando men vo soletta per la via, La gente sosta e mira E la bellezza mia tutta ricerca in me Da capo a pie'... Ed assaporo allor la bramosia Sottil, che da gli occhi traspira E dai palesi vezzi intender sa Alle occulte beltà. Così l'effluvio del desìo tutta m'aggira, Felice mi fa! E tu che sai, che memori e ti struggi Da me tanto rifuggi? So ben: le angoscie tue non le vuoi dir, Ma ti senti morir! Al amor (To love) from Canciones clásicas españoles, Fernando Obradors Text by Cristóbal de Castillejo, Translation by Zoë Pollock Give me, love, countless kisses, Grabbing my hair. And one thousand one hundred after those And after those, eleven hundred more And after… Those thousands, three! And so no one can tell Let’s throw off the tally And start counting backwards!
Dame, amor, besos sin cuento Asido de mis cabellos Y mil y ciento tras ellos Y tras ellos mil y ciento Y después… De muchos millares, tres! Y porque nadie lo sienta Desbaratemos la cuenta Y… contemos al revés. Chiquitita la novia (Tiny bride), Obradors Del Cancionero Popular, Translation by Zoë Pollock Ah! Tiny bride, Tiny groom Tiny living room And bedroom. That’s why I want The tiny bed And the mosquito net. Ah!
¡Ah!
Chiquitita la novia, Chiquitito el novio, Chiquitita la sala Y el dormitorio, Por eso yo quiero Chiquitita la cama Y el mosquitero ¡Ah!
Text by Juan Anchieta, Translation by Zoë Pollock
With love, I fell asleep; While asleep, I was dreaming What was veiled by my heart, The love comforted me With better than I deserved. That kindness lulled me to sleep That love gave me with love; It allowed my pain to rest The faith with which I served it. With love, mother, With love, I fell asleep. Con amores, la mi madre, Con amores me dormí; Así dormida soñaba Lo que el corazón velaba, Que el amor me consolaba Con más bien que merecí: Adormecióme el favor Que amor me dio con amor; Dio descanso a mi dolor La fe con que le serví. Con amores, la mi madre, Con amores me dormí.
Translation by Zoë Pollock That most delicate hair That you have in your braid I must make a chain To keep you by my side. A jug in your house, Sweetheart, I would love to be, To kiss you on your lips, When you went to take a drink. Ah!
Del cabello más sutil Que tienes en tu trenzado He de hacer una cadena Para traerte a mi lado. Una alcarraza en tu casa, Chiquilla, quisiera ser, Para besarte en la boca, Cuando fueras a beber. ¡Ah!
II. Church Bell at Night (12th century text translated by Howard Mumford Jones)\ Sweet Little bell, Struck on a windy night, I would liefer keep tryst with thee Than be with a light and foolish woman. V. The Crucifixion (From The Speckled Book, 12th century, translated by Howard Mumford Jones) At the cry of the first bird They began to crucify Thee, O Swan! Never shall lament cease because of that. It was like the parting of day from night. Ah, sore was the suff’ring borne By the body of Mary’s Son, But sorer still to Him was the grief Which for his sake Came upon His Mother. VII. Promiscuity (9th century text translated by Kenneth Jackson)
But I do know that fair Edan will not sleep alone. VIII. The Monk and His Cat (8th-9th century text translated by W.H. Auden)
How happy we are Alone together, Scholar and cat. Each has his own work to do daily; For you it is hunting, for me study. Your shining eye watches the wall; My feeble eye is fixed on a book. You rejoice when your claws Entrap a mouse; I rejoice when my mind Fathoms a problem. Pleased with his own art, Neither hinders the other; Thus we live ever Without tedium and envy. Pangur, white Pangur, How happy we are Alone together Scholar and cat. Pangur, white Pangur, How happy we are. X. The Desire for Hermitage (8th-9th century text translated by Sean O’Faolain) Ah! To be all alone in a little cell With nobody near me; Beloved that pilgrimage Before the last pilgrimage to Death. Singing the passing hours to cloudy Heaven; Feeding upon dry bread And water from the cold spring. That will be an end to evil When I am alone In a lovely little corner among tombs Far from the houses of the great. Ah! To be all alone in a little cell, To be a lone, All alone, Alone I came into the world, Alone I shall go from it. “Steal me, Sweet Thief” from The Old Maid and the Thief, Gian Carlo Menotti Text by Gian Carlo Menotti Recitative What a curse for a woman is a timid man! A week has gone by; He had plenty of chances, But he made no advances. Miss Todd schemes and labors to get him some money. She robs friends and neighbors the club and the church. He takes all the money With a smile that entrances… But still makes no advances. The old woman sighs and makes languid eyes. All the drawers are wide open, All the doors are unlocked… He neither seems pleased nor shocked. He eats and drinks and sleeps, He talks of baseball and boxing… But that is all. What a curse for a woman is a timid man! Aria Steal me, oh steal me, sweet thief, For time's flight is stealing my youth. And the cares of life steal fleeting time. Steal me, thief, for life is brief and full of theft and strife. And then, with furtive step, death comes and steals time and life. O sweet thief, I pray make me glow, before dark death steals her prey. Steal my lips, before they crumble to dust, Steal my heart, before death must, Steal my cheeks, before they're sunk and decayed, Steal my breath, before it will fade. Steal my lips, steal my heart, steal my cheeks, Steal, oh steal my breath, And make me die before death will steal her prey. Oh steal me! For time's flight is stealing my youth. Directory: file -> view view -> Western Europe after wwii view -> Author study: paul fleischman view -> Qpa1 7ela study Guide view -> Arctic Oil/Gas Neg view -> November 1970 Approximately 150,000-500,000 deaths Bhola Cyclone Bangladesh view -> Grade Level: 6 Unit of Study: Caribbean glce view -> Citation: Duffield, Katy view -> Table of Contents Lesson # view -> Chinese Wind Energy Disad Download 58.73 Kb. Share with your friends:
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