Recital: Jaeeun Shin '23 GD, Soprano
NEC's students meet one-on-one each week with a faculty artist to perfect their craft. As each one leaves NEC to make their mark in the performance world, they present a full, professional recital that is free and open to the public. It's your first look at the artists of tomorrow.
Jaeeun Shin '23 GD studies Voice with Lorraine Nubar and is the recipient of a scholarship made possible by the Richard M. and Priscilla Hunt Fund for Opera Students.
This performance is open to in-person audiences, and can also be viewed via livestream.
- Jaeeun Shin '23 GD, soprano
- J.J. Penna, piano
Ernst Krenek | Ô Lacrimosa, op. 48
O, Tränenvolle
Nicht als ein Atemzug
Aber die Winter!Texts
O, Tränenvolle
O Tränenvolle, die, verhaltner Himmel
Über der Landschaft ihres Schmerzes schwer wird
Und wenn sie weint, so weht ein weicher Schauer
Schräglichen Regens an des Herzens Sandschicht
O Tränenschwere. Waage aller Tränen!
Die sich nicht Himmel fühlte, da sie klar war
Und Himmel sein muß um der Wolken willen
Wie wird es deutlich und wie nah, dein Schmerzland
Unter des strengen Himmels Einheit. Wie ein
In seinem Liegen langsam waches Antlitz
Das waagrecht denkt, Welttiefe gegenüber
Nicht als ein Atemzug
Nichts als ein Atemzug ist das Leere, und jenes
Grüne Gefülltsein der schönen
Bäume: ein Atemzug!
Wir, die Angeatmeten noch
Heute noch Angeatmeten, zählen
Diese, der Erde, langsame Atmung
Deren Eile wir sind.
Aber die Winter!
Aber die Winter! O diese heimliche
Einkehr der Erde. Da um die Toten
In dem reinen Rückfall der Säfte
Kühnheit sich sammelt
Künftiger Frühlinge Kühnheit
Wo das Erdenken geschieht
Unter der Starre; wo das von den großen
Sommern abgetragene Grün
Wieder zum neuen
Einfall wird und zum Spiegel des Vorgefühls;
Wo die Farben der Blumen
Jenes Verweilen unserer Augen vergißt
Rainer Maria RilkeO, Tears
O tearful ones, like the sky held back,
it becomes heavy over the landscape of her sorrow
And when she cries, soft raindrops fall,
she was leaning obliquely on the sandy bottom of her
heart.
Oh heaviness of tears. Scale to weigh all tears!
Who felt herself not sky, since she was shining
and the sky exists only for the formation of clouds.
How clear, how close, your land of sorrow
beneath the stern sky's oneness. As a
face, which lies there, waking up slowly and thinking
horizontally, to endless depth.
Nothing but a breath
Nothing but a breath, emptiness, and that
green stuffing of the beautiful
trees: a breath!
We are still living, breathing beings.
Still breathing today, count
this slow breath of the earth,
whose hurry we are.
But the winters!
But the winters! Oh the mystery of the earth
around the dead, turning inward,
in the pure retreat of the sap
with boldness gathered,
the boldness of the coming spring
Place where imagination occurs
under the rigidity; where all the green
worn thin by the vast summers
again to the new
idea becomes and the mirror of anticipation;
where the colors of the flowers
that lingering of our eyes forgets.
Translations by Jaeeun ShinLouis Beydts | Chansons pour les oiseaux
La colombe poignardée
Le petit pigeon bleu
L’oiseau bleu
Le petit serin en cageTexts
La colombe poignardée
Si Dieu n'avait pas fait le soleil et les mondes,
Il n'y aurait pas eu les douleurs, ni ma blonde.
Pas de coups, de sang rouge et ni ma bien-aimée . . .
Il n'y aurait sur terre colombe poignardée.
Si Dieu n'avait pas fait la lune et les orages,
Il n'y aurait pas eu de pleurs aux doux visages,
Ni de couteau farouche et ni ma bien-aimée . . .
Il n'y aurait sur terre colombe poignardée. . .
Si Dieu n'avait pas fait les jours après le jour,
Il n'y aurait pas eu d'amour, ni mon amour!
Il n'y aurait sur terre colombe poignardée.
Et ni, Seigneur ! ma bien-aimée.
Le petit pigeon bleu
Je voudrais être petit pigeon bleu
Sur le toit de ta chaumière
Pour t’écouter remuer les assiettes
et mettre des pommes de pin au feu.
J’écouterais aussi la belle histoire
Que tes enfants écoutent chaque soir.
C’est toi qui la contes, je serais heureux
Tout comme un ange écoutant le bon Dieu.
Oui la belle histoire du paradis,
Quand les oiseaux s’aimaient entre eux,
Les arbres aussi, les poissons aussi,
Les chênes, les carpes, les hochequeues,
Les pins parasols, les écureuils,
Les zéphyrs, les roseaux, les roses,
Les arcs-en-ciel sur les eaux,
Les gouttes de rosée et deux personnes.
Sur le toit de ta chaumière,
Je voudrais être petit pigeon bleu.
J'écouterais entre les pailles, heureux,
Tout comme un ange écoutant le bon Dieu!
L’oiseau bleu
Aliénor, Eléonor, Genièvre,
Ilse, Nausicaa, Viviane,
Eve, Blancheflor, Urgèle et Gwendoloéna,
Carotte, Céphise, Amalthée,
Rosalys, Rosalinde rose,
Eunice, Eione, Galatée,
Sylphes, nymphes, apothéose,
Muses, Musette, Mélusine,
Musidora, Muse adorée,
Germaine Tourangelle,
Ondine, Calliope, Clio dorée,
Vénus Anadyomède, Irène, Roxane, Io,
reines, impératrices, fées, voix heureuses d'être fées,
Ah, Nourdjebane, Badoulboudour,
la Sulamite et la Sultane,
Yseut, Isoline, Peau d’Ane,
Amour.
Le petit serine en cage
Il était un p’tit jaune tout habillé de gris, canari,
Qui demandait l'aumône aux chats et aux souris,
canari, toto canaro, canari.
Compère, Mistigri, le lairras-tu, le lairras-tu souffri?
Le chat d’la Mèr’ Michel, canari,
ses moustach’s comme un gril, canari,
A fait la courte échelle aux rats et aux souris, canari,
toto canaro, canari!
Ah! Père Mistigri, me lairras-tu mouri?
Tu t’en iras au ciel, canari,
croqué par les souris, canari,
les rats, (c’est rationnel) te croqu’ront bien aussi,
canari, toto canaro, canari.
Et Mistigri chéri croqu’ra le tout, miaou!
Le chaton, qui l’eut cru?
C’est le père Lustucru,
ce vieux monstre malotru,
qui l’a croqué tout cru.
Paul FortThe wounded dove
If God had not made the sun and the worlds,
There wouldn't have been the pains, nor my girlfriend.
No beatings, red blood and neither my beloved. . .
There wouldn't be a stabbed dove on earth.
If God had not made the moon and the storms,
There would have been no weeping on sweet faces,
Neither a fierce knife nor my beloved. . .
There wouldn't be a stabbed dove on earth. . .
If God had not made day after day,
There would have been no love, nor my love!
There wouldn't be a stabbed dove on earth.
And neither, Lord! my beloved.
The little blue pigeon
I would like to be a little blue pigeon
On the roof of your cottage
To listen to you stir the plates
and put pine cones on the fire.
I would also listen to the beautiful story
That your children listen to every evening.
You're the one telling it, I'd be happy
Just like an angel listening to the good Lord.
Yes the beautiful story of paradise,
When the birds loved each other,
The trees too, the fishes too,
The oaks, the carps, the wagtails,
The umbrella pines, the squirrels,
Zephyrs, reeds, roses,
The rainbows on the waters,
dew drops and two people.
On the roof of your cottage,
I would like to be a little blue pigeon.
I would listen between the straws, happy,
Just like an angel listening to the good Lord!
Blue bird
Aliénor, Eléonor, Juniper,
Ilse, Nausicaa, Viviane,
Eve, Blancheflor, Urgèle and Gwendoloéna,
Carotte, Céphise, Amalthée,
Rosalys, Rosalinde rose,
Eunice, Eione, Galatée,
Sylphs, nymphs, apotheosis,
Muses, Musette, Mélusine,
Musidora, adored Muse,
Germaine Tourangelle,
Ondine, Calliope, Golden Clio,
Venus Anadyomède, Irène, Roxane, Io,
queens, empresses, fairies, voices happy to be fairies,
Ah, Nourdjebane, Badoulboudour,
the Shulamite and the Sultana,
Yseut, Isoline, Peau d’Ane,
Love.
The little canary in the cage
He was a little yellow all dressed in gray, canary,
Who begged alms from cats and mice,
canary, toto canaro, canary.
Gossip, Mistigri, will you let him go, will you let him suffer?
Mèr’ Michel’s cat, canary,
his whiskers like a grill, canary,
Made the short ladder to rats and mice, canary,
toto canaro, canary!
Ah! Father Mistigri, will you let me die?
You will go to heaven, canary,
bitten by mice, canary,
the rats, (it's rational) will eat you well too,
canary, toto canaro, canary.
And darling Mistigri will take it all in, meow!
The kitten, who would have believed it?
It's Father Lustucru,
that clumsy old monster,
who chewed it raw.
Translations by Jaeeun ShinSamuel Barber
Nuvoletta, op. 25
Nocturne, op. 13 no. 4Texts
Nuvoletta
Nuvoletta in her light dress,
spunn of sisteen shimmers,
was looking down on them,
leaning over the bannistars
and listening all she childishly could…
She was alone.
All her nubied companions
were asleeping with the squir'ls…
She tried all the winsome wonsome ways
her four winds had taught her.
She tossed her sfumastelliacinous hair
like la princesse de la Petite Bretagne
and she rounded her mignons arms
like Missis CornwallisWest
and she smiled over herself
like the image of the pose of the daughter
of the Emperour of Irelande
And she sighed after herself
as were she born to bride with Tristis
Tristior Tristissimus.
But, sweet madonine, she might fair as well
have carried her daisy's worth to Florida...
Oh, how it was dusk!
From Vallee Maraia to Grasyaplaina,
dormimust echo!
Ah dew! Ah dew! It was so duusk
that the tears of night began to fall,
first by ones and twos,
then by threes and fours,
at last by fives and sixes of sevens, f
or the tired ones were wecking;
as we weep now with them.
O! O! O! Par la pluie!...
Then Nuvoletta reflected for the last time
in her little long life
and she made up all her myriads
of drifting minds in one.
She cancelled all her engauzements.
She climbed over the bannistars;
she gave a childy cloudy cry:
Nuée! Nuée!
A light dress fluttered.
She was gone.
James Joyce
Nocturne
Close my darling both your eyes,
Let your arms lie still at last.
Calm the lake of falsehood lies
And the wind of lust has passed,
Waves across these hopeless sands
Fill my heart and end my day,
Underneath your moving hands
All my aching flows away.
Even the human pyramids
Blaze with such a longing now:
Close, my love, your trembling lids,
Let the midnight heal your brow,
Northward flames Orion’s horn,
Westward th’ Egyptian light.
None to watch us, none to warn
But the blind eternal night.
Frederic ProkoschWonju Lee (이원주) | 베틀노래 (Loom Song)
Text
베틀노래
내땀의한방울도날줄에스며
그대영혼감싸기에따뜻하거라
고즈너기풀어감은고통의실꾸리
한평생오가는만남의잉아
우리님생각과실실이짜여
새벽바람막아줄실비단이거라
기다리마, 기다리마, 기다리마
하루에도열두번끊기는실이여
무작정풀리기엔무서운맘이거든
단번에끝내기엔아쉬운밤이거든
허천들린사랑가
평생동안흘린눈물모조리스며
그대아픔덮어주는비단길이거라
비단길이거라
비단길이거라
고정희 Junghee KoLoom Song
My heart seeps into the loom's thread
Be warm to wrap around his soul
The thread of pain that was quietly unwrapped
Thread crossing over a lifetime
The threads will be woven with thoughts toward him
and will become silk to block the dawn wind
I will wait, I will wait, I will wait
Threads breaking twelve times a day
It's a scary heart to be solved blindly
It's a sad night to end at once
An earnest love song
All the tears I shed all my life seep
and become a silk road that covers his pain.
become a silk road
become a silk road
Translation by Jaeeun ShinAmbroise Thomas | Mad Scene from ”Hamlet” (À vos jeux, mes amis)
Text
A vos jeux, mes amis
A vos jeux, mes amis,
permettez-moi de grace de prendre part!
Nul n'a suivi ma trace!
J'ai quitte le palais
aux premiers feux du jour...
Des larmes de la nuit
la terre etait mouillee:
Et l'alouette, avant l'aube eveillee,
planait dans l'air.
Mais vous, pourquoi vous parler bas?
Ne me reconnaissez pas?
Hamlet est mon epoux..
et je suis Ophelie!
S'il trahissait sa foi,
j'en perdrais la raison!
Partagez-vous mes fleurs!
A toi cette humble branche de romarin sauvage.
A toi cette pervenche
Et maintenant ecoutez ma chanson!
Pale et blonde dors sous l'eau profonde
La Willis au regard de feu!
Que Dieu garde celui
qui s'attarde dans la nuit,
au bord du Lac bleu!
Heureuse l'epouse aux bras de l'epoux!
Mon ame et jalouse d'un bonheur si doux!
Nymphe au regard de feu, helas!
tu dors sous les eaux du Lac bleu!
Ah, cher epoux, ah, cher amant!
Ah, doux aveu!, ah, tendre serment!
Bonheur supreme!
Ah, cruel, je t'aime!
Ah, cruel, tu voix mes pleurs!
Pour toi je meurs!At your game, my friends
At your game, my friends,
would you permit me to take part!
No one has followed my path!
I left the palace
at the first fires of the day...
Of the tears of night,
the earth was damp:
And the lark, high in the trees,
hovers in the air.
But you, why do you speak so softly?
Do you not recognize me?
Hamlet is my bridegroom...
and I am Ophelia!
If he should betray me now,
I would lose my reason!
Share my flowers!
For you, this humble branch of wild rosemary.
For your, this periwinkle
And now, listen to my song!
Pale and fair, sleeping under the water,
La Willis, with the fiery gaze!
May God protect anyone
who loiters at night
by the shores of the blue lake!
Happy wife in the arms of her groom!
My soul is jealous of such a sweet happiness!
Nymph with the fiery gaze, alas!
you sleep under the waters of the blue lake!
Ah, dearest groom, dearest love!
Ah, sweet vow, tender oath!
Happiness supreme!
Ah, cruel one, I love you!
Ah, cruel one, you see my tears!
For you I die!
Translation by Ilya Speranza, printed with permission (ISperanza@aol.com)