Recital: Michaela Kelly '21 MM, Soprano

NEC: Williams Hall | Directions

290 Huntington Ave.
Boston, MA
United States

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.

Michaela Kelly '21 MM studies Voice with Ian Howell.


Watch Live Stream from Williams Hall

Artists
  • Michaela Kelly '21 MM, soprano
  • Charles Jones, trumpet
  1. Isabella Colbran | La speranza al cor mi dice; Già la notte; Povero cor tu palpiti

    La speranza al cor mi dice

    La speranza al cor mi dice

    Che sarò felice ancor
    Ma la speme inganna trice
    Poi mi dice il mio timor

    Già la notte


    Già la notte s’avvicina
    Vieni o Nice amato bene
    Della placida marina
    Le fresch’aura a respirar

    Non sa dir che sia diletto
    Chi non posa in queste arene
    Or ch’un lento zeffiretto
    Dolcemente in crespa il mar.

    Povero cor tu palpiti

    Povero cor tu palpiti
    Ne a torto in questo di
    Tu palpiti cosi povero core

    Si tratta o dio di perdere
    Per sempre il caro ben
    Che di sua mano in sen
    M’in presse amore


    Pietro Metastasio

    Hope in my Heart tells Me

    Hope in my heart tells me

    That I will be happy again,
    But hope is a deceiver
    Then my fear speaks to me.

    Night is already approaching

    Night is already approaching,
    Come, oh Nice, dear beloved,
    To breathe the fresh breezes
    of the calm sea.


    No one knows what delight isz
    Who has not rested on this beach

    Now when the languid breeze
    Gently ripples the sea.

    Poor heart, you throb


    Poor heart, you throb,
    And not wrongly so on this day;
    You throb so, poor heart.

    The reason is, oh God, you have lost
    Forever your dear beloved;
    Whose image, the hand of Cupid
    engraved in my heart.


    Translation © 2011 by Bard Suverkrop—
                    IPA Source, LLC
  2. Antonín Dvořák | Pisne Milostné, op. 83

    O naši lásce nekvete to vytouzené stestí
    V tak mnohém srdci mrtvo jest
    Kol domu se ted’ potácím

    Já vím, že v sladké naději
    Nad krajem vévodi lehký spánek
    Zde v lese u potoka
    V té sladké moci ocí tvých
    Ó duše drahá jedinká

    Ó, naší lásce nekvete

    Ó, naší lásce nekvete

    to vytoužené štěstí:
    A kdyby kvetlo, nebude
    dlouho, dlouho kvésti.

    Proč by se slza v ohnivé
    Polibky vekrádala?
    Proč by mne v plné lásce své
    Ouzkostně objímala?

    O, trpké je to loučení,
    Kde naděj nezakyne:
    Tu srdce cítí ve chvění,
    Že brzo bídně zhyne.

    V tak mnohém srdci mrtvo jest


    V tak mnohém srdci mrtvo jest,
    Jak v temné pustině,
    V něm na žalost a na bolest,
    Ba, místa jedině.

    Tu klamy lásky horoucí
    V to srdce vstupuje,
    A srdce žalem prahnoucí,
    To mní, že miluje.

    A v tomto sladkém domnění
    Se ještě jednou v ráj
    To srdce mrtvé promění
    A zpívá, zpívá, starou báj!

    Kol domu se ted' potácím


    Kol domu se ted' potácím,
    Kdes bydlívala dříve,
    A z lásky rány krvácím,
    Lásky sladké, lživé!

    A smutným okem nazírám,
    Zdaž ke mně vedeš kroku:
    A vstříc ti náruč otvírám,

    Však slzu cítím v oku!

    Ó, kde jsi, drahá, kde jsi dnes,
    Což nepřijdeš mi vstříce?
    nemám v srdci slast a ples,
    Tě uzřít nikdy více?

    Já vím, že v sladké naději

    Já vím, že v sladké naději
    Tě smím přec milovat;
    A že chceš tím horoucněji
    Mou lásku pěstovat.

    A přec, když nazřím očí tvých
    V tu přerozkošnou noc
    A zvím jak nebe lásky z nich
    Na mne snáší moc:

    Tu moje oko slzami,
    Tu náhle se obstírá,
    Neb v štěstí naše za námi
    Zlý osud pozírá!

    Nad krajem vévodí lehký spánek


    Nad krajem vévodí lehký spánek
    Jasná se rozpjala májová noc;
    Nesmělý krade se do listí vánek,
    S nebes se schýlila míru moc.

    Zadřímlo kvítí, potokem šumá
    Tišeji nápěvů tajemných sbor.
    Příroda v rozkoši blaženě dumá,
    Neklidných živlů všad utichl vzpor.

    Hvězdy se sešly co naděje světla,
    Země se mění na nebeský kruh.
    Mým srdcem, v němž-to kdys blaženost kvetla,
    Mým srdcem táhne jen bolesti ruch!

    Zde v lese u potoka já

    Zde v lese u potoka já
    Stojím sám a sám;
    A ve potoka vlny
    V myšlenkách pozírám.

    Tu vidím starý kámen,
    Nad nímž se vlny dmou;
    Ten kámen stoupá a padá
    Bez klidu pod vlnou.

    A proud se oň opírá,
    Až kámen zvrhne se.
    Kdy vlna života mne ze světa
    Odnese, kdy, ach, vlna života mne odnese?

    V té sladké moci očí tvých


    V té sladké moci očí tvých
    Jak rád, jak rád bych zahynul,
    Kdyby mě k životu jen smích
    Rtů krásných nekynul.

    Však tu smrt sladkou zvolím hned
    S tou láskou, s tou láskou ve hrdí:
    Když mě jen ten tvůj smavý ret
    K životu probudí.

    Ó, duše drahá, jedinká


    Ó, duše drahá, jedinká,
    Jež v srdci žiješ dosud:
    Má oblétá tě myšlenka,
    Ač nás dělí zlý osud.

    Ó, kéž jsem zpěvnou labutí,
    Já zaletěl bych k tobě;
    A v posledním bych vzdechnutí
    Ti vypěl srdce v mdlobě.

    Gustav Pfleger Moravský

    It Does Not Blossom for Our Love

    Oh, that long-desired happiness
    Does not blossom for our love.
    And if it did,
    It would not bloom for long.

    Why should a tear
    Creep into passionate kisses?
    Why should anxiety embrace me
    When I am full of love?

    Oh, bitter is that parting
    Where hope does not beckon.
    For the trembling heart feels
    That soon it shall perish in misery.

    Death Dwells in So Many Hearts


    Death dwells in so many hearts
    As in a dark wasteland.
    In such hearts there is only room
    For grief and pain.

    Then, illusions of ardent love
    Enter the heart.
    And the heart, pining in grief,
    Believes that it is in love.

    And with this sweet assumption,
    In paradise once again,
    The dead heart is transformed
    And sings its old song.

    I Stagger by the House


    I stagger by the house
    Where you used to live,
    And I bleed from the gashes
    Of a sweet, false love.

    With a sad eye I look
    To see whether you will approach me
    I open my arms towards you,

    Yet I feel a tear in my eye.


    Oh, where are you now, my dear?
    Why do you not come to me?
    Why does my heart not have the joy
    Of ever seeing you again?

    I Know That in Sweet Hope


    I know that in sweet hope
    I am still allowed to love you,
    And that you want to foster my love
    All the more fervently.

    And still, on this delightful night,
    As I look into your eyes,
    I know that the heavens
    Bestow the power of love upon me.

    Then suddenly my eyes
    Are veiled with tears,
    For even in our joy,
    Wicked fate is watching behind us.

    A Light Sleep Reigns Over the Land


    A light sleep reigns over the land;
    The clear May night has spread itself;
    A timid breeze steals into the leaves;
    Peace has descended from the heavens.

    The flowers are sleeping, while in the brook
    A chorus of mysterious melodies murmurs.
    Nature muses in its delight;
    The turmoil of restless elements is calmed.

    The stars have assembled, as lights of hope;
    The earth is transformed into a heavenly sphere.   

    In my heart, where happiness once bloomed,
    I feel only the stirring of pain.


    In the Woods by the Stream

    In the woods by the stream
    I stand all alone,
    And lost in my thoughts
    I gaze into the stream's eddy.

    There I see an old stone,
    Over which the water rolls.
    And that stone beneath the waves,
    Always rises and falls.

    The stone battles the waves,
    And finally overturns.
    When will the waves of life finally
    Sweep me away from this world?

    By the sweet power of your eyes


    By the sweet power of your eyes
    I would gladly, gladly perish
    If your beautiful smile did not
    Bring me back to life.

    I would always happily choose that sweet death
    With this love, this love in my breast:
    But only if I knew that your sweet lips
    Would wake me from my rest.

    Oh, you, my soul's only dear one


    Oh, you, my soul's only dear one,
    Who will live in my heart forever:
    My thoughts circle around you,
    Even though cruel fate separates us.

    Oh, if I were a singing swan,
    I would fly to you, and with my last breath,
    Sing my heart out to you,
    Ah, with my last breath.

    Translations by Damien Francoeur-Kryzek & Djordje Nesic©, and Hannah Sharene Penn©
    Reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive.

  3. J. S. Bach | Cantata 51: Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen, BWV 51

    Arie: Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen
    Rezitativ: Wir beten zu dem Tempel an
    Arie: Höchster, mache deine Gute
    Chorale: Sei Lob und preis mit Ehren
    Arie: Alleluja

    Arie
    Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen!

    Was der Himmel und die Welt

    An Geschöpfen in sich hält,
    Müssen dessen Ruhm erhöhen,
    Und wir wollen unserm Gott
    Gleichfalls itzt ein Opfer bringen,
    Daß er uns in Kreuz und Not
    Allezeit hat beigestanden.

    Rezitativ

    Wir beten zu dem Tempel an,
    Da Gottes Ehre wohnet,
    Da dessen Treu,
    So täglich neu,
    Mit lauter Segen lohnet.
    Wir preisen, was er an uns hat getan.
    Muß gleich der schwache Mund
         von seinen Wundern lallen,

    So kann ein schlechtes Lob ihm dennoch wohlgefallen.

    Arie
    Höchster, mache deine Güte
    Ferner alle Morgen neu.
    So soll vor die Vatertreu
    Auch ein dankbares Gemüte
    Durch ein frommes Leben weisen,
    Daß wir deine Kinder heißen.

    Choral
    Sei Lob und Preis mit Ehren
    Gott Vater, Sohn, Heiligem Geist!
    Der woll in uns vermehren,
    Was er uns aus Gnaden verheißt,
    Daß wir ihm fest vertrauen,
    Gänzlich uns lass'n auf ihn,
    Von Herzen auf ihn bauen,
    Daß uns'r Herz, Mut und Sinn
    Ihm festiglich anhangen;
    Drauf singen wir zur Stund;
    Amen, wir werdn's erlangen,

    Glaub'n wir aus Herzensgrund.

    Arie

    Alleluja!

    Aria
    Exult in God in every land!

    Whatever creatures are contained
    by heaven and earth
    must raise up this praise,
    and now we shall likewise
    bring an offering to our God,
    since He has stood with us
    at all times during suffering and necessity.

    Recitative

    We pray at your temple,
    where God's honor dwells,
    where this faithfulness,
    daily renewed,
    is rewarded with pure blessing.
    We praise what He has done for us.
    Even though our weak mouth
         must gape before His wonders,

    our meager praise is still pleasing to Him.

    Aria

    Highest, renew Your goodness
    every morning from now on.
    Thus, before this fatherly love,
    a thankful conscience shall display,
    through a virtuous life,
    that we are called Your children.

    Chorale
    Glory, and praise with honor
    be to God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!
    He will increase in us
    what He has promised us out of grace,
    so that we trust fast in Him,
    abandon ourselves completely to Him,
    rely on Him within our hearts,
    so that our heart, will, and mind
    depend strongly on Him;
    therefore we sing at this time:
    Amen, we shall succeed,
    if we believe from the depths of our hearts.

    Aria

    Alleluia

    Translation by ©Pamela Dellal



     

    Artists
    • Charles Jones, trumpet
  4. Tom Cipullo | Late Summer

    Crickets
    Summer Into Autumn Slips
    Touch Me
     

    Crickets

    Evenings, where lawns are not sprayed with poisons,
    You can still hear the crickets,
    You can still see lightning bugs signaling,

    Look, a yellowgreen strobe under the trees,
    But gone, but there, again,
    Sometimes in the same spot, and sometimes not,

    As the tiny purveyors of phosphor
    Drift past our houses,
    Looking for one another,

    And the crickets, crickets, crickets
    The ones that still have their legs
    Listen maybe for the last time on earth, listen…

    William Heyen


    Summer Into Autumn Slips

    Summer Into Autumn slips
    And yet we sooner say,
    The Summer than the Autumn,
    Lest we turn the sun away,

    And almost count it an affront,
    The presence to concede
    Of one however lovely,
    Not the one that we have loved-

    Emily Dickinson, excerpted from “1346”


    Touch Me

    Summer is late, my heart.
    Words plucked out of the air
    Some forty years ago
    When I was wild with love
    And torn almost in two
    Scatter like leaves this night
    Of whistling wind and rain.
    It is my heart that’s late,
    It is my song that’s flown.
    Outdoors all afternoon
    Under a gunmetal sky
    Staking my garden down.

    I kneeled to the crickets trilling
    Underfoot as if about
    To burst from their crusty shells;
    And like a child again
    Marveled to hear so clear
    And brave a music
    Pour from such a small machine.
    What makes the engine go?
    Desire, desire, desire.

    The longing for the dance
    stirs in the buried life.
    One season only, and it’s done.

    So let the battered old willow
    Thrash against the windowpanes
    And the house timbers creak.
    Darling, do you remember
    The man you married? Touch me,
    Remind me who I am.

    Stanley Kunitz