Recital: Lucas Ludwig Coura '21 MM, Countertenor | Faith, Hope, and Love

Die Allmacht

Groß ist Jehova, der Herr! denn Himmel
und Erde verkünden seine Macht!
Du hörst sie im brausenden Sturm,
in des Waldstroms lautaufrauschendem Ruf,



in des grünenden Waldes Gesäusel;
Siehst sie in wogender Saaten Gold,
in lieblicher Blumen glühendem Schmelz,
im Glanz des sternebesäeten Himmels!

Furchtbar tönt sie im Donnergeroll,
und flammt in des Blitzes schnellhinzuckendem Flug;
doch kündet das pochende Herz dir

Fühlbarer noch Jehova's Macht, des ewigen Gottes, 
Blickst du flehend empor, und hoffst auf Huld und Erbarmen!



Johann Ladislav Pyrker

The All-powerful

Great is God, the Lord!  For heaven
and earth proclaim his power!
You hear it in the raging storm,
In the loud, resounding roar of the forest storms.

Great is God, the Lord! Great is His Power!

You hear it in the rustling of the green forest;
you see it in the gold of the waving cornfields,
in the glowing blooms of lovely flowers,
in the glitter of the star-filled heavens.

Terrible it sounds in the rolling thunder,
and it flames in the swift flashing lightning streaks.
Yet still more perceptible, your beating heart         proclaims
The power of God, of the eternal God, 
When you look up in prayer in hope for grace and mercy,

Great is God the Lord! Great is God the Lord!

Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2005 by Gary L. Miller, reprinted with permission  from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/

An die Hoffnung

Ob ein Gott sei? Ob er einst erfülle,
Was die Sehnsucht weinend sich verspricht?
Ob, vor irgendeinem Weltgericht,
Sich dies rätselhafte Sein enthülle?
Hoffen soll der Mensch! Er frage nicht! 
Die du so gern in heil'gen Nächten feierst

Und sanft und weich den Gram verschleierst,
Der eine zarte Seele quält,
O Hoffnung! Laß, durch dich empor gehoben,
Den Dulder ahnen, daß dort oben
Ein Engel seine Tränen zählt! 

Wenn, längst verhallt, geliebte Stimmen schweigen;
Wenn unter ausgestorb'nen Zweigen
Verödet die Erinn'rung sitzt:
Dann nahe dich, wo dein Verlaßner trauert 
Und, von der Mitternacht umschauert,
Sich auf versunk'ne Urnen stützt. 

Und blickt er auf, das Schicksal anzuklagen,
Wenn scheidend über seinen Tagen
Die letzten Strahlen untergehn:
Dann laß' ihn um den Rand des Erdentraumes 
Das Leuchten eines Wolkensaumes
Von einer nahen Sonne seh'n!

Christoph August Tiedge

To Hope

Is there a God? Will he someday fulfill 
The promises for which longing cries out? 
Will, before the court of the world,
This puzzle ever reveal itself?
Man must hope. He does not ask!
You, who so gladly celebrates on sacred nights

And gently and softly veils the grief
That torments a tender soul,
O Hope! Raised through you,
Let the sufferer feel that there above,
An angel counts his tears!

When, long hushed, beloved voices are   silenced,
When, underneath dead branches
Memory sits desolate,
Then come closer to where your forsaken one mourns
And, looking around at midnight,
Supports himself against sunken urns.

And if he looks up to accuse Fate,
When, departing with his days,
The last rays set:
Then permit him to see, at the rim of this earthly dream,
The light of the cloud's hem  
From the near-by sun! 

Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
from the LiederNet Archive https://www.lieder.net

Fühlt meine Seele das ersehnte Licht

Fühlt meine Seele das ersehnte Licht
Von Gott, der sie erschuf? Ist es der Strahl
Von andrer Schönheit aus dem Jammertal, 
Der in mein Herz Erinnrung weckend bricht?

Ist es ein Klang, ein Traumgesicht,
Das Aug und Herz mir füllt mit einem Mal
In unbegreiflich glüh'nder Qual,
Die mich zu Tränen bringt? Ich weiß es nicht.

Was ich ersehne, fühle, was mich lenkt,
Ist nicht in mir: sag mir, wie ich's erwerbe? 
Mir zeigt es wohl nur eines Andren Huld; 
Darein bin ich, seit ich dich sah, versenkt.
Mich treibt ein Ja und Nein, ein Süß und Herbe - 
Daran sind, Herr, deine Augen Schuld. 

Is my soul feeling the longed-for light

Is my soul feeling the longed for light
Of God who created it?  Is it the gleam
Of a different beauty from the valley of misery,
reflecting in my heart and evoking memory?

Is it a sound, a dream vision,
That suddenly fills my eye and heart
In incomprehensibly burning pain,
That brings me to tears?  I do not know.

What I long for, the sense of what directs me,
Is not within me:  Tell me how do I acquire it?
To me it reveals only another's grace and love; 
I have been their captive since I first saw you.
I am driven by a yes and a no, a sweet and a bitter -
That, master, is the doing of your eyes.  

Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2005 by Knut W. Barde, reprinted with permission  from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/

Mi palpita il cor

Mi palpita il cor
Né intendo perché
Agitata é l’alma mia
né so cos’è

Recitativo
Tormento e gelosia
Sdegno, affanno, e dolore
da me che pretendete?
Se mi volete amante, amante son;
ma, oh Dio, non m’uccidete,
che il cor fra tante pene  
più soffrire non può le sue catene.


Ho tanti affanni in petto

Ho tanti affanni in petto,
che qual sia il più tiranno  io dir no’l so.
So ben che do ricetto
a un aspro e crudo affanno
e che morendo vo’.

Recitativo
Clori, di te mi lagno;
e di te, o nume,
figlio di Citerea,
che’il cor feristi
per una che non sa
che cosa è amore,
ma se d’egual’ saetta
a lei feristi il core,
più lagnarmi non voglio;
e riverente inanti al simulacro tuo
prostrato a terra, umil, devoto
adorerò quel Dio,
che fe’ contento e pago
il mio desio.

Se un di m’adora

S’un dí m’adora la mia crudele,
contento allor’ il cor sarà.
Che sia dolore, che sia tormento
questo mio seno più non saprà.

Anonymous

My heart throbs

My heart throbs,
But I don’t understand why
My soul is agitated
I don’t know what it is. 

Recitative
Torture, jealousy,
Anger, troubles, and pain,
What do you want from me?
If you’d make a lover of me, I’ll be a lover;
But, oh God, don’t kill me,
For my heart amidst so much pain  
Can no longer suffer its chains.


My heart is so riddled with agonies

My heart is so riddled with agonies 
That which is the worst, I can no longer say. 
I know well that I harbor
A bitter and cruel agony
That is killing me. 

Recitative
Chloris, of you I complain;
And of you, o God,
Son of Venus
Who has wounded my heart
For one who does not know
What love is,
But if with the same arrow
You wounded her heart,
I would not have to complain;
And humbly before your image
I would fall to my knees, humble, devoted,
I would worship that God
That satisfied and fulfilled
My yearning.

If one day my cruel love

If one day my cruel love loves me,
Then will my heart be happy.
My heart will no longer know
What pain and suffering are! 

Translation by Lucas Ludwig Coura

Und sprich

Sieh auf dem Meer den Glanz 
der hohen Sonne liegen,
sieh über die Wogen hin,
die leisen Spiels sich wiegen,
zahllose Lichter und zahllose Schatten fliegen,

und sprich zu deinem Leid:
"Du kleine, dunkle Welle."
Und sprich zu deinem Glück:
"Du Glanz an flücht'ger Stelle."
Und sprich zu deinem Gott:  
"Du ew'ge Sonnenhelle." 

Rüdiger von Biegeleben

And Speak

See upon the ocean the gleaming
Of the high sun,
See how over the waves
That sway in quiet play,
Countless lights and countless shadows fly,

And speak to your pain:
"You little, dark wave."
And speak to your happiness:
"You gleam upon a transient spot."
And speak to your God:  
"You eternal brightness of the sun." 

Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2011 by Sharon Krebs, reprinted with permission  from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/

Heures ternes

Voici d’anciens désirs qui passent,
Encor des songes de lassés,
Encor des rêves qui se lassent ;
Voilà les jours d’espoir passés !

En qui faut-il fuir aujourd’hui !
Il n’y a plus d’étoile aucune :
Mais de la glace sur l’ennui
Et des linges bleus sous la lune.

Encor des sanglots pris au piège !
Voyez les malades sans feu,
Et les agneaux brouter la neige ;
Ayez pitié de tout, mon Dieu !

Moi, j’attends un peu de réveil,
Moi, j’attends que le sommeil passe,
Moi, j’attends un peu de soleil  
Sur mes mains que la lune glace. 

Maurice Maeterlinck

Dull Hours

Here are old desires that fade,
More dreams of the weary,
More dreams that bore us;
Those hopeful days are gone!

To where can we flee on such a day?
There are no more stars:
Only ennui beneath a crust of ice
And beneath the moon, sheets of blue.

More sobs trapped!
Look at the ill without fire,
And the lambs grazing on snow;
Have pity on us all, my God!

As for me, I wait for the awakening call; 
I wait for sleep to pass,
I wait for a little sunlight  
To fall on my hands frozen by the moon. 

Translation copyright © by Emily Ezust,
from the LiederNet Archive https://www.lieder.net

Reflets

Sous l'eau du songe qui s'élève 
Mon âme a peur, mon âme a peur. 
Et la lune luit dans mon cœur
Plongé dans les sources du rêve !

Sous l'ennui morne des roseaux.
Seul le reflet profond des choses,
Des lys, des palmes et des roses
Pleurent encore au fond des eaux.

Les fleurs s'effeuillent une à une
Sur le reflet du firmament.
Pour descendre, éternellement 
Sous l'eau du songe et dans la lune.

Maurice Maeterlinck

Reflections

Under the rising water of the dream,
My soul is afraid, my soul is afraid.
And the moon shines in my heart
Plunged into the well-springs of the dream!

Under the mournful boredom of the reeds,
Only the profound reflection[s] of things,
Of lilies, of palms, and of roses,
Still weep at the bottom of the waters.

The flowers drop their petals one by one
On the reflection of the sky
In order to sink eternally  
Under the water of the dream and into the moon. 

Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2004 by Korin Kormick, reprinted with permission  from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/

Cantique

À toute âme qui pleure,
à tout péché qui passe,
J'ouvre au sein des étoiles
mes mains pleines de grâces.

Il n'est péché qui vive
quand l'amour a parlé;
Il n'est d'âme qui meure
quand l'amour a pleuré...

Et si l'amour s'égare
aux sentiers d'ici-bas,
Ses larmes me retrouvent  
et ne s’égarent pas… 

Maurice Maeterlinck

Song

To every soul that weeps
To every sin inflicted
I extend in the stars 
My hands full of grace. 

No one lives who has not sinned 
When love spoke 
No one with a soul has not died 
When love wept. 

And if love strays
On the paths here below 
Its tears find me  
And do not stray.

Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2019 by David Fetter, reprinted with permission  from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/