Liederabend LIII: The Black Pierrot - Langston Hughes and Paul Verlaine in Song
NEC faculty member JJ Penna presents NEC students from the departments of collaborative piano and voice in an evening of song.
The Liederabend—literally, "evening of song"—dates back to the 1800s, when musicians and lovers of music would gather at someone's home, and one or more singers and a pianist would perform the songs of composers of the day. In the field of classical music, these songs are referred to as "art songs," and the German art songs are called "Lieder." In Germany, the great age of song came in the 19th century. German and Austrian composers had written music for voice with keyboard before this time, but it was with the flowering of German literature in the Classical and Romantic eras that composers found high inspiration in great poetry, sparking the genre known as the "Lied."
The tradition of the art song composition continues today, with composers from all corners of the world setting poetry in many languages, scored for voice and piano. The NEC Liederabend series presents songs in a variety of languages—not only German—dating from the 19th century up to the present day.
ABOUT SONG LAB:
This Liederabend performance is connected to NEC's Song Lab, a new model of training for singers and pianists based around the performance and study of art song. This spring, Song Lab focuses on American art song repertoire, including the history and culture surrounding it, and this Liederabend is performed as an extension of this area of study.
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Gabriel Fauré | Songs
Clair de lune
À Clymène
Mandoline
En sourdineTexts
Clair de lune
Votre âme est un paysage choisi
Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques
Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi
Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.
Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur
L’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune,
Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur
Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,
Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,
Qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres
Et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau,
Les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres.
Paul VerlaineMoonlight
Your soul is a chosen landscape
bewitched by masquers and bergamaskers,
playing the lute and dancing and almost
sad beneath their fanciful disguises.
Singing as they go in a minor key
of conquering love and life’s favours,
they do not seem to believe in their fortune
and their song mingles with the light of the moon,
The calm light of the moon, sad and fair,
that sets the birds dreaming in the trees
and the fountains sobbing in their rapture,
tall and svelte amid marble statues.
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukÀ Clymène
Mystiques barcarolles,
Romances sans paroles,
Chère, puisque tes yeux,
Couleur des cieux,
Puisque ta voix, étrange
Vision qui dérange
Et trouble l'horizon
De ma raison,
Puisque l'arôme insigne
De ta pâleur de cygne,
Et puisque la candeur
De ton odeur,
Ah ! puisque tout ton être,
Musique qui pénètre,
Nimbes d'anges défunts,
Tons et parfums,
A, sur d'almes cadences,
En ses correspondances
Induit mon cœur subtil,
Ainsi soit-il !
Paul VerlaineTo Clymène
Mystic barcarolles,
Songs without words,
My darling, because your eyes,
The color of the heavens,
Because your voice, strange
Vision that upsets
And troubles the horizon
Of my reason.
Because the wonderful aroma
Of your cygnet-like pallor.
And because the distinctness
Of your fragrance.
Ah! Because your entire existence,
Like music that pervades all,
Nimbuses of former angels,
Tones and perfumes.
Has, in wondrous cadences,
Attracted into a connection
My subtle heart:
Let it be praised!
Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust, from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/Mandoline
Les donneurs de sérénades
Et les belles écouteuses
Échangent des propos fades
Sous les ramures chanteuses.
C'est Tircis et c'est Aminte,
Et c'est l'éternel Clitandre,
Et c'est Damis qui pour mainte
Cruelle fit maint vers tendre.
Leurs courtes vestes de soie,
Leurs longues robes à queues,
Leur élégance, leur joie
Et leurs molles ombres bleues,
Tourbillonnent dans l'extase
D'une lune rose et grise,
Et la mandoline jase
Parmi les frissons de brise.
Paul VerlaineMandolin
The gallant serenaders
and their fair listeners
exchange sweet nothings
beneath singing boughs.
Tirsis is there, Aminte is there,
and tedious Clitandre too,
and Damis who for many a cruel maid
writes many a tender song.
Their short silken doublets,
their long trailing gowns,
their elegance, their joy,
and their soft blue shadows
Whirl madly in the rapture
of a grey and roseate moon,
and the mandolin jangles on
in the shivering breeze.
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukEn sourdine
Calmes dans le demi-jour
Que les branches hautes font,
Pénétrons bien notre amour
De ce silence profond.
Mêlons nos âmes, nos cœurs
Et nos sens extasiés,
Parmi les vagues langueurs
Des pins et des arbousiers.
Ferme tes yeux à demi,
Croise tes bras sur ton sein,
Et de ton cœur endormi
Chasse à jamais tout dessein.
Laissons-nous persuader
Au souffle berceur et doux
Qui vient, à tes pieds, rider
Les ondes des gazons roux.
Et quand, solennel, le soir
Des chênes noirs tombera
Voix de notre désespoir,
Le rossignol chantera.
Paul VerlaineMuted
Calm in the twilight
Cast by loft boughs,
Let us steep our love
In this deep quiet.
Let us mingle our souls, our hearts
And our enraptured senses
With the hazy languor
Of arbutus and pine.
Half-close your eyes,
Fold your arms across your breast,
And from your heart now lulled to rest
Banish forever all intent.
Let us both succumb
To the gentle and lulling breeze
That comes to ruffle at your feet
The waves of russet grass.
And when, solemnly, evening
Falls from the black oaks,
That voice of our despair,
The nightingale shall sing.
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukArtists- Jaeeun Shin, soprano
- Alice Chenyang Xu, piano
Reynaldo Hahn | Songs
L'heure exquise
Fêtes galantes
D'une prisonTexts
L'heure exquise
La lune blancheLuit dans les bois;De chaque branchePart une voixSous la ramée...
Ô bien aimée.
L'étang reflète,Profond miroir,La silhouetteDu saule noirOù le vent pleure...
Rêvons, c'est l'heure.
Un vaste et tendreApaisementSemble descendreDu firmamentQue l'astre irise...
C'est l'heure exquise.
Paul VerlaineThe exquisite hour
The white moon
Gleams in the woods;
From every branch
There comes a voice
Beneath the boughs...
O my beloved.
The pool reflects,
Deep mirror,
The silhouette
Of the black willow
Where the wind is weeping...
Let us dream, it is time.
A vast and tender
Consolation
Seems to fall
From the sky
The moon illumines...
The exquisite hour.
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukFêtes galantes
Les donneurs de sérénades
Et les belles écouteuses
Échangent des propos fades
Sous les ramures chanteuses.
C'est Tircis et c'est Aminte,
Et c'est l'éternel Clitandre,
Et c'est Damis qui pour mainte
Cruelle fit maint vers tendre.
Leurs courtes vestes de soie,
Leurs longues robes à queues,
Leur élégance, leur joie
Et leurs molles ombres bleues,
Tourbillonnent dans l'extase
D'une lune rose et grise,
Et la mandoline jase
Parmi les frissons de brise.
Paul VerlaineGallant parties
The gallant serenaders
And their fair listeners
Exchange sweet nothings
Beneath singing boughs.
Tirsis is there, Aminte is there,
And tedious Clitandre too,
And Damis who for many a cruel maid
Writes many a tender song.
Their short silken doublets,
Their long trailing gowns,
Their elegance, their joy,
And their soft blue shadows
Whirl madly in the rapture
Of a grey and roseate moon,
And the mandolin jangles on
In the shivering breeze.
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukD'une prison
Le ciel est, par-dessus le toit,
Si bleu, si calme !
Un arbre, par-dessus le toit,
Berce sa palme.
La cloche, dans le ciel qu'on voit,
Doucement tinte.
Un oiseau sur l'arbre qu'on voit
Chante sa plainte.
Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, la vie est là
Simple et tranquille.
Cette paisible rumeur-là
Vient de la ville.
Qu'as-tu fait, ô toi que voilà
Pleurant sans cesse,
Dis, qu'as-tu fait, toi que voilà,
De ta jeunesse ?
Paul VerlaineOf a prison
Over the roof, the sky is
So blue, so calm!
Above the roof, a tree
Waves its foliage.
In the sky one can see the bell
Softly ringing.
On the tree one can see a bird
Singing its lament.
My God, my God, life is there,
Simple and tranquil.
This peaceful rumor there
Comes from the town.
What have you done, o you there,
Weeping without end,
Tell me, what have you done, you there,
With your youth?
Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust, from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/Artists- Jack Keller, tenor
- Kyunga Lee, piano
Margaret Bonds | Songs
Poème d'automne
Young Love in SpringTexts
Poème d'automne
The autumn leaves
Are too heavy with color
The slender trees
On the Vulcan Road
Are dressed in scarlet and gold
Like young courtesans
Waiting for their lovers
But soon
The winter winds
Will strip their bodies bare
And then
The sharp, sleet-stung
Caresses of cold
Will be their only
Love
Langston Hughes
Young Love in Spring
When the March winds roar like a lion
And the last little snowflakes drift down
From a half dreary, half happy April sky
And then lovely may rolls around
And I walk with you down a country lane
We know that spring has come again!
When the rising sun laughs at the dawn
And the scent of the soil’s warm and sweet
And the little green sprouts peep out of the earth
And grow upward, the sunshine to greet
And we find a violet across the way
We know that spring has come to stay
Spring has come our way!
When I look at you in the haze
Of the twilight’s last lingering glow
In the half dusky, half starry evening sky
Where sweet scented buds gently blow
And our dreams like birds heading homeward soar
We know that spring has come once more!Langston Hughes
Artists- Jack Keller, tenor
- Kyunga Lee, piano
Claude Debussy | Fêtes galantes I
En sourdine
Fantoches
Clair de luneTexts
En sourdine
Calmes dans le demi-jour
Que les branches hautes font,
Pénétrons bien notre amour
De ce silence profond.
Mêlons nos âmes, nos cœurs
Et nos sens extasiés,
Parmi les vagues langueurs
Des pins et des arbousiers.
Ferme tes yeux à demi,
Croise tes bras sur ton sein,
Et de ton cœur endormi
Chasse à jamais tout dessein.
Laissons-nous persuader
Au souffle berceur et doux
Qui vient, à tes pieds, rider
Les ondes des gazons roux.
Et quand, solennel, le soir
Des chênes noirs tombera
Voix de notre désespoir,
Le rossignol chantera.Muted
Calm in the twilight
Cast by loft boughs,
Let us steep our love
In this deep quiet.
Let us mingle our souls, our hearts
And our enraptured senses
With the hazy languor
Of arbutus and pine.
Half-close your eyes,
Fold your arms across your breast,
And from your heart now lulled to rest
Banish forever all intent.
Let us both succumb
To the gentle and lulling breeze
That comes to ruffle at your feet
The waves of russet grass.
And when, solemnly, evening
Falls from the black oaks,
That voice of our despair,
The nightingale shall sing.
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukFantoches
Scaramouche et PulcinellaQu’un mauvais dessein rassemblaGesticulent, noirs sous la lune.
Cependant l’excellent docteurBolonais cueille avec lenteurDes simples parmi l’herbe brune.
Lors sa fille, piquant minois,Sous la charmille, en tapinois,Se glisse, demi-nue, en quête
De son beau pirate espagnol,Dont un amoureux rossignolClame la détresse à tue-tête.
Paul VerlainePuppets
Scaramouche and Pulcinella,
brought together by some evil scheme
gesticulate, black beneath the moon.
Meanwhile, the learned doctor
from Bologna slowly gathers
medicinal herbs in the brown grass.
Then his sassy-faced daughter
sneaks underneath the arbor
half-naked, in quest
Of her handsome Spanish pirate,
whose distress a languorous nightingale
deafeningly proclaims.
Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2007 by Laura Claycomb and Peter Grunberg, reprinted wiith permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/Clair de lune
Votre âme est un paysage choisi
Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques
Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi
Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.
Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur
L’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune,
Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur
Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,
Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,
Qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres
Et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau,
Les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres.
Paul VerlaineMoonlight
Your soul is a chosen landscape
bewitched by masquers and bergamaskers,
playing the lute and dancing and almost
sad beneath their fanciful disguises.
Singing as they go in a minor key
of conquering love and life’s favours,
they do not seem to believe in their fortune
and their song mingles with the light of the moon,
The calm light of the moon, sad and fair,
that sets the birds dreaming in the trees
and the fountains sobbing in their rapture,
tall and svelte amid marble statues.
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukArtists- Angela Yam, soprano
- Alice Chenyang Xu, piano
John Musto | Shadow of the Blues
Silhouette
Litany
Island
Could BeTexts
Silhouette
Southern gentle lady,
Do not swoon.
They’ve just hung a black man
In the dark of the moon.They’ve hung a black man
To a roadside tree
In the dark of the moon
For the world to see
How Dixie protects
Its white womanhood.Southern gentle lady,
Be good!
Be good!Langston Hughes
LitanyGather up
In the arms of your pity
The sick, the depraved,
The desperate, the tired,
All the scum
Of our weary city.Gather up
In the arms of your pity.
Gather up
In the arms of your love–
Those who expect
No love from above.
Langston Hughes
IslandWave of sorrow,
Do not drown me now:I see the island
Still ahead somehow.I see the island
And its sands are fair:Wave of sorrow,
Take me there.
Langston Hughes
Could Be
Could be Hastings Street,
Or Lenox Avenue,
Could be 18th & Vine
And still be true.Could be 5th & Mound,
Could be Rampart:
When you pawned my watch
You pawned my heart.Could be you love me,
Could be that you don’t.
Might be that you’ll come back,
Like as not you won’t.
Hastings Street is weary,
Also Lenox Avenue.
Any place is dreary
Without my watch and you.
Langston HughesArtists- Andrew Stack, baritone
- Liya Nigmati, piano
Kurt Weill | What Good Would the Moon Be, from "Street Scene"
Text
I’ve looked in the windows at diamonds,
They’re beautiful, but they’re cold.
I’ve seen Broadway stars in fur coats
That cost a fortune, so I’m toldI guess I’d look nice in diamonds,
And sables might add to my charms,
But if someone I don’t care for should buy them,
I’d rather have two loving arms.What good would the moon be
Unless the right one shared it’s beams
What good would dreams come true be
If love wasn’t in those dreamsAnd a primrose path,
What would be the fun
Of walking down a path like that
Without the right oneWhat good would the night be
Unless the right lips whisper low,
Kiss me oh darling kiss me,
While evening stars still glow
No it won’t be a primrose path for me,
No it won’t be diamonds and gold,
But maybe it will be
Someone who'll love me,
Someone who'll love just me
To have and to hold.
Langston HughesArtists- Logan Trotter, soprano
- Gayoung Park, piano
Jean Berger | In Time of Silver Rain
Text
In Time of Silver Rain
In time of silver rain
The earth
Puts forth new life again,
Green grasses grow
And flowers lift their heads,
And over all the plain
The wonder spreads
Of life,
Of life,
Of life!In time of silver rain
The butterflies
Lift silken wings
To catch a rainbow cry,
And trees put forth
New leaves to sing
In joy beneath the sky
As down the roadway
Passing boys and girls
Go singing, too,
In time of silver rain
When spring
And life
Are new.Langston Hughes
Artists- Logan Trotter, soprano
- Gayoung Park, piano
Ricky Ian Gordon | from Genius Child
Genius Child
Winter Moon
JoyTexts
Genius Child
This is a song for the genius child.
Sing it softly, for the song is wild.
Sing it softly as ever you can–
Lest the song get out of hand.Nobody loves a genius child.
Can you love an eagle,
Tame or wild?Wild or tame,
Can you love a monster
Of frightening name?Nobody loves a genius child.
Kill him–and let his soul run wild!
Langston Hughes
Winter Moon
How thin and sharp is the moon tonight!
How thin and sharp and ghostly white
Is the slim curved crook of the moon tonight!
Langston Hughes
Joy
I went to look for Joy,
Slim, dancing Joy,
Gay, laughing Joy,
Bright-eyed Joy–
And I found her
Driving the butcher’s cart
In the arms of the butcher boy!
Such company, such company,
As keeps this young nymph, Joy!
Langston HughesArtists- Logan Trotter, soprano
- Gayoung Park, piano