Spring Forward Festival: Song Recital I
Welcome to NEC's Spring Forward Festival — a 10-day, on-campus performance intensive taking place May 17–26!
The Spring Forward Festival is an opportunity for students who have been working remotely this academic year to return to NEC and collaborate with each other. The festival will feature rehearsals, coachings, and performance classes, as well as individual practice time, followed by a series of performances between May 21–26 that are broadcast live from campus via the NEC website. For more on the festival, click here
Enjoy today's Spring Forward Festival Song Recital performance!
- Sophia Donelan and Hannah Shanefield, soprano
- Colin Miller, Jay Hutzler, and David Rivera Bozón, tenor
- Miles Fellenberg, piano
Franz Schubert | Der Müller und der Bach
Text
Der Müller und der Bach
DER MÜLLER:
Wo ein treues Herze
In Liebe vergeht,
Da welken die Lilien
Auf jedem Beet.
Da muss in die Wolken
Der Vollmond gehen,
Damit seine Tränen
Die Menschen nicht sehn.
Da halten die Englein
Die Augen sich zu,
Und schluchzen und singen
Die Seele zu Ruh’.
DER BACH:
Und wenn sich die Liebe
Dem Schmerz entringt,
Ein Sternlein, ein neues
Am Himmel erblinkt.
Da springen drei Rosen,
Halb rot und halb weiss,
Die welken nicht wieder
Aus Dornenreis.
Und die Engelein schneiden
Die Flügel sich ab,
Und gehn alle Morgen
Zur Erde herab.
DER MÜLLER:
Ach, Bächlein, liebes Bächlein,
Du meinst es so gut:
Ach, Bächlein, aber weisst du,
Wie Liebe tut?
Ach, unten, da unten,
Die kühle Ruh’!
Ach, Bächlein, liebes Bächlein,
So singe nur zu.Wilhelm Müller
The Miller and the Brook
THE MILLER:
Where a true heart
dies of love,
the lilies wilt
in their beds.
There the full moon
must disappear behind clouds
so that mankind
does not see its tears.
There angels
cover their eyes
and, sobbing, sing
the soul to rest.
THE BROOK:
And when love
struggles free of sorrow,
a new star
shines in the sky.
Three roses,
half-red, half-white,
spring from thorny stems
and will never wither.
And the angels
cut off their wings,
and every morning
descend to earth.
THE MILLER:
Ah, brook, beloved brook,
you mean so well:
ah, brook, but do you know
what love can do?
Ah, below, down below,
is cool rest!
Brook, beloved brook,
sing on.
Translation© Richard Wigmore, author of Schubert: The Complete Song Texts, published by Schirmer Books, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder [www.oxfordlieder.co.uk]Artists- Colin Miller, tenor
Robert Schumann | Der Nussbaum
Text
Der Nussbaum
Es grünet ein Nussbaum, vor dem Haus,
Duftig,
Luftig
Breitet er blättrig die Blätter aus.
Viel liebliche Blüten stehen d’ran,
Linde
Winde
Kommen, sie herzlich zu umfahn.
Es flüstern je zwei zu zwei gepaart,
Neigend,
Beugend
Zierlich zum Kusse die Häuptchen zart.
Sie flüstern von einem Mägdlein, das
Dächte
Die Nächte
Und Tagelang, wüsste ach! selber nicht was.
Sie flüstern—wer mag verstehen so gar
Leise
Weis’?
Flüstern von Bräut’gam und nächstem Jahr.
Das Mägdlien horchet, es rauscht im Baum;
Sehnend,
Wähnend
Sinkt es lächelnd in Schlaf und Traum.
Julius MosenThe Walnut Tree
A nut tree blossoms outside the house,
Fragrantly,
Airily,
It spreads its leafy boughs.
Many lovely blossoms it bears,
Gentle
Winds
Come to caress them tenderly.
Paired together, they whisper,
Inclining,
Bending
Gracefully their delicate heads to kiss.
They whisper of a maiden who
Dreamed
For nights
And days of, alas, she knew not what.
They whisper—who can understand
So soft
A song?
Whisper of a bridegroom and next year.
The maiden listens, the tree rustles;
Yearning,
Musing
She drifts smiling into sleep and dreams.
Translation © Richard Stokes, author of The Book of Lieder, published by Faber, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder, www.oxfordlieder.co.ukArtists- Sophia Donelan, soprano
Robert Schumann | Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen
Text
Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen
Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen
Geh’ ich im Garten herum.
Es flüstern und sprechen die Blumen,
Ich aber wandle stumm.
Es flüstern und sprechen die Blumen,
Und schau’n mitleidig mich an:
„Sei unsrer Schwester nicht böse,
Du trauriger, blasser Mann.“
Heinrich HeineOne bright summer morning
One bright summer morning
I walk around the garden.
The flowers whisper and talk,
But I walk silently.
The flowers whisper and talk,
And look at me in pity:
‘Be not angry with our sister,
You sad, pale man.’Translation © Richard Stokes, author of The Book of Lieder, published by Faber, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder, www.oxfordlieder.co.uk
Artists- Jay Hutzler, tenor
Georges Bizet | Adieux de l'hôtesse arabe
Text
Adieux de l’hôtese arabe
Puisque rien ne t’arrête en cet heureux pays,
Ni l’ombre du palmier, ni le jaune maïs,
Ni le repos, ni l’abondance,
Ni de voir à ta voix battre le jeune sein
De nos sœurs, dont, les soirs, le tournoyant essaim
Couronne un coteau de sa danse,
Adieu, beau voyageur! Hélas adieu.
Oh! que n’es-tu de ceux
Qui donnent pour limite à leurs pieds paresseux
Leur toit de branches ou de toiles!
Que, rêveurs, sans en faire, écoutent les récits,
Et souhaitent, le soir, devant leur porte assis,
De s’en aller dans les étoiles!
Si tu l’avais voulu, peut-être une de nous,
O jeune homme, eût aimé te servir à genoux
Dans nos huttes toujours ouvertes;
Elle eût fait, en berçant ton sommeil de ses chants,
Pour chasser de ton front les moucherons méchants,
Un éventail de feuilles vertes.
Si tu ne reviens pas, songe un peu quelquefois
Aux filles du désert, sœurs à la douce voix,
Qui dansent pieds nus sur la dune;
O beau jeune homme blanc, bel oiseau passager,
Souviens-toi, car peut-être, ô rapide étranger,
Ton souvenir reste à plus d’une!
Hélas! Adieu! bel étranger! Souviens-toi!
Victor HugoFarewell of the Arabian hostess
Since nothing can keep you in this happy land,
neither shade-giving palm nor yellow corn,
nor repose, nor abundance,
nor the sight of our sisters’ young breasts trembling
at your voice as, in a whirling swarm at evening,
they garland a hillside with their dance.
Farewell, fair traveller! Ah!
Why are you not like those
whose indolent feet venture no further
than their roofs of branch or canvas!
Who, musing, listen passively to tales
and dream at evening, sitting before their door,
of wandering among the stars!
Had you so wished, perhaps one of us,
O young man, would fain have served you, kneeling,
in our ever-open huts;
lulling you asleep with songs, she would have made,
to chase the noisome midges from your brow,
a fan of green leaves.
If you do not return, dream at times
of the daughters of the desert, sweet-voiced sisters,
who dance barefoot on the dunes;
O handsome young white man, fair bird of passage,
remember – for perhaps, O fleeting stranger,
more than one maiden will remember you!
Alas! Farewell, fair stranger! Remember!
Translation © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000) provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder-www.oxfordlieder.co.ukArtists- Hannah Shanefield, soprano
Roger Quilter | Now sleeps the crimson petal
Text
Now sleeps the crimson petal
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me.
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.
Alfred Lord TennysonArtists- David Rivera Bozón, tenor