Recital: Daniel Rosenberg '21 BM, Tenor

Tergi l’inguiste lagrime

Tergi l'ingiuste lagrime,
dilegua il tuo martiro,
che s'io per te respiro,
tu regnerai per me.

Di raddolcirti io spero
questo penoso affanno
col dono d'un impero,
col sangue d'un tiranno
che delle nostre ingiurie
punito ancor non è.

Pietro Antonio Domenico Bonaventura Trapassi

Wipe away your needless tears

Wipe away your needless tears,
dispel your agony.
For if I still breathe because of you,
you will reign because of me.

I wish to soften
your painful anguish
by giving you an empire,
shedding the blood of a tyrant
who has wronged us  
and is still unpunished!

Translation copyright © 2019 by Andrew Schneider reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive - https://www.lieder.net/

Pastorello d’un povero Armento

Pastorello d'un povero armento 
pur dorme contento,
sotto l'ombra d'un faggio o d'alloro.

Io, d'un regno monarca fastoso,
non trovo riposo,
sotto l'ombra di porpora e d'oro.

Nicola Francesco Haym

A Shepherd, though his flock be poor

A shepherd, though his flock be poor,
still slumbers tranquilly
'neath the shadow of some beech or laurel tree.

Though I be a monarch of a kingdom known for ceremony,
I find no rest in the shadow
of the royal purple and gold. 

Translation copyright © 2018 by Andrew Schneider reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive- https://www.lieder.net/

Nachtstück

Wenn über Berge sich der Nebel breitet
Und Luna mit Gewölken kämpft,
So nimmt der Alte seine Harfe, und schreitet
Und singt waldeinwärts und gedämpft:
„Du heilge Nacht:
Bald ist’s vollbracht,
Bald schlaf ich ihn, den langen Schlummer, 
Der mich erlöst von allem Kummer.“

Die grünen Bäume rauschen dann:
„Schlaf süss, du guter, alter Mann“;
Die Gräser lispeln wankend fort:
„Wir decken seinen Ruheort“;
Und mancher liebe Vogel ruft:
„O lass ihn ruhn in Rasengruft!“
Der Alte horcht, der Alte schweigt,
Der Tod hat sich zu ihm geneigt.

Johann Mayrhofer

Nocturne

When the mists spread over the mountains,
and the moon battles with the clouds,
the old man takes his harp, and walks
towards the wood, quietly singing:
‘Holy night,
soon it will be done.
Soon I shall sleep the long sleep 
which will free me from all grief.’

Then the green trees rustle:
‘Sleep sweetly, good old man’;
and the swaying grasses whisper:
‘We shall cover his resting place.’
And many a sweet bird calls:
‘Let him rest in his grassy grave!’
The old man listens, the old man is silent.
Death has inclined towards him.

Translation © Richard Wigmore, author of Schubert: The Complete Song Texts, published by Schirmer Books, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)

Aus Heliopolis I

Im kalten, rauhen Norden
Ist Kunde mir geworden
Von einer Stadt, der Sonnenstadt.
Wo weilt das Schiff, wo ist der Pfad,
Die mich zu jenen Hallen tragen?
Von Menschen konnt’ ich nichts erfragen,
Im Zwiespalt waren sie verworren.
Zur Blume, die sich Helios erkoren,
Die ewig in sein Antlitz blickt,
Wandt’ ich mich nun, und ward entzückt.

„Wende, so wie ich, zur Sonne
Deine Augen! Dort ist Wonne,
Dort ist Leben;
Treu ergeben
Pilgre zu und zweifle nicht:
Ruhe findest du im Licht.
Licht erzeuget alle Gluten,
Hoffnungspflanzen,
Tatenfluten!“

Johann Mayrhofer

From Heliopolis I

In the cold, harsh north
I learnt
of a city, the city of the sun.
Where is the ship, where the path
that will take me to its courts?
Men could tell me nothing,
for they were entangled in conflict.
I then turned to the flower chosen by Helios,
that forever gazes into his face,
and was enchanted.

‘Like me, turn your eyes
to the sun!  There is bliss,
there is life;
in true devotion
make your pilgrimage, and do not doubt.
In the light you will find peace.
Light creates all ardour,
begets flowers of hope
and torrents of deeds!’ 

Translation © Richard Wigmore, author of Schubert: The Complete Song Texts, published by Schirmer Books, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)

Aus Heliopolis II

Fels auf Felsen hingewälzet,
Fester Grund und treuer Halt;
Wasserfälle, Windesschauer,
Unbegriffene Gewalt.

Einsam auf Gebirges Zinne,
Kloster wie auch Burgruine,
Grab’ sie der Erinn’rung ein!
Denn der Dichter lebt vom Sein.

Atme du den heil’gen Äther
Schling die Arme um die Welt,
Nur dem Würdigen, dem Grossen
Bleibe mutig zugesellt.

Lass die Leidenschaften sausen
Im metallenen Akkord,
Wenn die starken Stürme brausen,
Findest du das rechte Wort.

Johann Mayrhofer

From Heliopolis II

Rock piled upon rock,
firm ground and steady foothold;
waterfalls, blasts of wind,
uncomprehended power.

Solitary, on the mountain peak,
stands a monastery and a ruined castle;
etch them in the memory,
for the poet lives through existence.

Breathe the holy ether,
clasp the world in your arms;
boldly consort
only with the worthy and the great.

Let the passions seethe
in brazen harmony.
When fierce tempests rage
you will find the right word. 

Translation © Richard Wigmore, author of Schubert: The Complete Song Texts, published by Schirmer Books, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)

Un cygne

Un cygne avance sur l'eau
tout entouré de lui-même,
comme un glissant tableau;
ainsi à certains instants
un être que l'on aime
est tout un espace mouvant.

Il se rapproche, doublé,
comme ce cygne qui nage,
sur notre âme troublée...
qui à cet être ajoute
la tremblante image
de bonheur et de doute.

Rainer Maria Rilke

A swan

A swan moves over the water,
surrounded by itself,
like a gliding tableau.
Thus the beloved
is sometimes
a moving space.

He draws near, duplicated
like the swimming swan,
to our troubled soul ....
which adds
the trembling image
of joy and doubt. 

Translation copyright © 2000 by Faith J. Cormier reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive - https://www.lieder.net/

Tombeau dans un parc

Dors au fond de l'allée,
tendre enfant, sous la dalle,
on fera le chant de l'été
autour de ton intervalle.

Si une blanche colombe
passait au vol là-haut,
je n'offrirais à ton tombeau
que son ombre qui tombe.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Grave in a park

At the end of the avenue, sleep,
Tender child, beneath the stone,
We shall sing the song of summer
About your grave.

If a white dove
Passes in flight overhead,
I will give for your Tomb,
Only the shadow that falls. 

Translation copyright © 2008 by Bart Suverkrop-IPA Source, LLC

Le disparu

Je n'aime plus la rue Saint-Martin
Depuis qu'André Platard l'a quittée,
Je n'aime plus la rue Saint-Martin,
Je n'aime rien, pas même le vin.

Je n'aime plus la rue Saint-Martin
Depuis qu'André Platard l'a quittée.
C'est mon ami, c'est mon copain,
Nous partagions la chambre et le pain.
Je n'aime plus la rue Saint-Martin.

C'est mon ami, c'est mon copain.
Il a disparu un matin,
Ils l'ont emmené, on ne sait plus rien,
On ne l'a plus revu dans la rue Saint-Martin.

Pas la peine d'implorer les saints,
Saint Merry, Jacques, Gervais et Martin,
Pas même Valérien qui se cache sur la colline.

Le temps passe, on ne sait rien,
André Platard a quitté la rue Saint-Martin.

Robert Desnos

The Disappearance

I don't like the Rue Saint-Martin any more,
not since André Platard left it.
I don't like the Rue Saint-Martin any more.
There's nothing I like, not even wine.

I don't like the Rue Saint-Martin any more,
not since André Platard left it.
He's my friend, he's my buddy.
We shared a room, we shared our food.
I don't like the Rue Saint-Martin any more.

He's my friend, he's my buddy.
One morning he disappeared.
They took him away, and we've heard nothing since.
He's not been seen again in the Rue Saint-Martin.

It's not worth praying to the saints -
Saint Merri or Saint Jacques, Saint Gervais or Martin,
or even Valérien who hides up on the hill.

Time passes. We know nothing.
André Platard has left the Rue Saint-Martin. 

Translation copyright © 2002 by Peter Low reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive - https://www.lieder.net/