Recital: Su Jin Park '21 MM, Soprano

Alma mia

Alma mia, sì, sol tu sei
la mia gloria, il mio diletto,
dal poter de’ sommi Dei
più bel dono io non aspetto. 

Paolo Antonio Rolli

My soul

My soul, yes, only you are
My glory, my delight,
From the power of the highest Gods 
A more beautiful gift I do not await.

Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2019 by Garrett Medlock, reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/

En sourdine

Calmes dans le demi-jour
Que les branches hautes font,
Pénétrons bien notre amour
De ce silence profond.

Fondons 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 Verlaine

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.uk

Fantoches

Scaramouche et Pulcinella
Qu’un mauvais dessein rassembla
Gesticulent, noirs sous la lune.

Cependant l’excellent docteur
Bolonais cueille avec lenteur
Des 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 rossignol 
Clame la détresse à tue-tête.

Paul Verlaine

Puppets

Scaramouche and Pulcinella
Drawn together by some evil scheme,
Gesticulate, black beneath the moon.

Meanwhile the excellent doctor
From Bologna is leisurely picking
Medicinal herbs in the brown grass.

Then his daughter, pertly pretty,
Beneath the arbour, stealthily,
Glides, half-naked, in quest

Of her handsome Spanish pirate,
Whose grief a lovelorn nightingale
Proclaims as loudly as he can. 

Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.uk

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 Verlaine

Moonlight

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.uk

Сирень

По утру, на заре,
По росистой траве,
Я пойду свежим утром дышать;
И в душистую тень,
Где теснится сирень,
Я пойду своё счастье искать...

В жизни счастье одно
Мне найти суждено,
И то счастье в сирени живёт;
На зелёных ветвях,
На душистых кистях
Моё бедное счастье цветёт...

Ekaterina Andreyena Beketova

Lilacs

In the morning, at daybreak,
over the dewy grass,
I will go to breathe the crisp dawn;
and in the fragrant shade,
where the lilac crowds,
I will go to seek my happiness...

In life, only one happiness
it was fated for me to discover,
and that happiness lives in the lilacs;
in the green boughs,
in the fragrant bunches,
my poor happiness blossoms...

Translation from Russian (Русский) to English copyright © by Anton Bespalov and Rianne Stam, reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/

Не пой, красавица

Не пой, красавица, при мне
Ты песен Грузии печальной;
Напоминают мне оне
Другую жизнь и берег дальний.

Увы, напоминают мне
Твои жестокие напевы
И степь, и ночь, и при луне
Черты далекой, бедной девы!

Я призрак милый, роковой,
Тебя увидев, забываю;
Но ты поёшь, и предо мной
Его я вновь воображаю.

Не пой, красавица, при мне
Ты песен Грузии печальной;
Напоминают мне оне 
Другую жизнь и берег дальний.

Alexandr Sergeyevich Pushkin

Do not sing, my beauty

Do not sing, my beauty, to me
your sad songs of Georgia;
they remind me
of that other life and distant shore.

Alas, They remind me,
your cruel melodies,
of the steppe, the night and moonlit
features of a poor, distant maiden!

That sweet and fateful apparition
I forget when you appear;
but you sing, and before me
I picture that image anew.

Do not sing, my beauty, to me
your sad songs of Georgia;
they remind me
of that other life and distant shore.

Translation from Russian (Русский) to English copyright © by Anton Bespalov and Rianne Stam, reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/

Весенние воды

Ещё в полях белеет снег,
А воды уж весной шумят --
Бегут и будят сонный брег,
Бегут, и блещут, и гласят...

Они гласят во все концы:
«Весна идёт, весна идёт!
Мы молодой весны гонцы,
Она нас выслала вперёд.

Весна идёт, весна идёт,
И тихих, тёплых майских дней
Румяный, светлый хоровод
Толпится весело за ней!...» 

Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

Spring Waters

The fields are still whitened with snow,
But the waters already roar with Spring.
They rush and awaken the sleepy riverbank,
They rush, and sparkle, and proclaim...

They proclaim to all corners of the earth:
“Spring is coming, Spring is coming!
We are the heralds of the young Spring,
She has sent us forward!”

Spring is coming, Spring is coming,
And the quiet, warm days of May
In a bright and glowing round dance 
Bustle joyfully behind her.

Translation from Russian (Русский) to English copyright © 2018 by Sergey Rybin, reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive, https://www.lieder.net/

The first time I saw you
I put the light in my fluttering heart
The time that I couldn't talk to you
It made my heart ache

The moment I met your eyes
I turned my eyes in case you read my heart
The time that I've been with you.
I am overwhelmed

My soul, pray earnestly
All the world, sing for me

When can I deliver my heart to you?
I live today thinking about only of you

The moment when heart opened
I put a dream in my trembling lips
It was such a short time
Be stop forever

Sing joyfully, my soul
All the world, bless us

My heart, become the light and shine on you
I live today thinking about only of you

First love...

Even one drop of my sweat will soak into each thread
So that it may be warm enough to wrap your soul.
Shuttles of meeting that come and go constantly throughout a lifetime.
The reel of anguish spun in a quiet stillness

Weave every line of thread, thinking of my beloved
So that it may be a fine silk to protect him from the dawn wind.
I’ll wait. I’ll wait. I’ll wait.
Alas! Dear the thread that’s cut twelve times a day,
It is frightening to be abruptly unraveled
It is a wistful night to be unexpectedly over
Uncontrollable love songs!

A lifetime’s worth of teardrops will soak into each thread
So that it may be a fine silk to cover your agony.
A fine silk it is. A fine silk it is.