Recital: Lucas Ludwig Coura '21 MM, Countertenor | Faith, Hope, and Love
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.
Lucas Ludwig Coura '21 MM studies Voice with Ian Howell. He is the recipient of the Douglas Smith Scholarship for Voice.
- Lucas Ludwig Coura '21 MM, countertenor
- J.J. Penna, piano
- Zoe Cagan, flute
- Morgan Pope, bassoon
Hildegard von Bingen | O Eterne Deus
Text
O Eterne Deus
O eterne Deus,
nunc tibi placeat ut in amore illo ardeas,
ut membra illa simus, que fecisti in eodem amore,
cum Filium tuum genuisti in prima aurora
ante omnem creaturam,
et inspice necessitatem hanc que super nos cadit,
et abstrahe eam a nobis propter Filium tuum,
et perduc nos in leticiam salutis.
Hildegard von BingenO eternal God
O eternal God,
may you be pleased to blaze once more in love
and to reforge us as the limbs you fashioned in that love,
when first you bore your Son upon the primal dawn
before all things created.
Look upon this need that over us has fallen,
draw it off from us according to your Son,
and lead us back into salvation’s wholesome happiness.
Translation by Nathaniel M. Campbell, International Society of Hildegard von Bingen StudiesFranz Schubert | Die Allmacht
Text
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/Ludwig van Beethoven | An die Hoffnung
Text
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 TiedgeTo 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.netHugo Wolf | Fühlt mein Seele das ersehnte Licht, from Michelangelo-lieder
Text
Fühlt meine Seele das ersehnte Licht
Michelangelo Buonarotti, translated into German
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.
by Walter Heinrich Robert-TornowIs 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/George Frideric Handel | Mi palpita il cor, HWV 132c
Text
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.
AnonymousMy 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 CouraArtists- Zoe Cagan, flute
- Morgan Pope, bassoon
---intermission
Franz Liszt | Und sprich, S. 329
Text
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 BiegelebenAnd 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/Nadia Boulanger | Heures ternes
Text
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 MaeterlinckDull 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.netLili Boulanger | Reflets
Text
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 MaeterlinckReflections
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/Nadia Boulanger | Cantique
Text
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 MaeterlinckSong
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/Lucas Ludwig Coura | Faith, Hope, and Love
Jeremiah 29:11
Hebrew 11:1
1 John 4:7-8Text
Jeremiah 29:11
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11.
…I have questions.
To begin, I feel I should point out, some prosper while others are harmed.
Really, that few prosper, while many are harmed.
Greed is demanding and expensive, and where sacrifice is required,
I suppose it is most accurate to say that it prospers–rather, profits the few to harm the many.
Does the favor of the Lord, then, fall upon the prosperous few?
Is that what may be assumed?
I suppose the deeper question is: For whom?
For whom does the Lord plan?
And if God plans the prospering, God must also plan the harm,
So the sacrifice of many could be vindicated,
Or rather, justified,
So the obvious question that follows here is: Why?
Why should the Lord pick a handful to prosper while others should suffer and die?
And if these things are predetermined, why should any of us try?
The fact of the matter is this:
That “everything turns out the way it should”
Is only said when things don’t turn out good,
And things have not turned out good, so what is the plan here?
Must you insist, Lord on those you have planned for?
Could I not be omitted?
I don’t want to participate anymore…
“I’m just happy you’re still here,” you said to me,
And for a fleeting moment, I was too.
Hebrews 11:1Now faith is being sure of what is hoped for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1.
The cynic in me has trouble with this passage.
First, because “hope” is a problematic concept.
It suggests longing, even yearning, for an outcome
which is out of your control.
And if you hope for that which you cannot control,
You leave yourself uniquely prone to disappointment.
Disappointment, even to despair.
All the same, I don’t know that we can help but to be hopeful
When enflamed with longing for some need unmet,
(relief from debt), some goal on which your sights are set,
Some silhouette of something that you can’t forget,
You take your bet,
Decide you’d rather live with the regret…
…But to be certain?
In spite of all evidence for, or against?
To be sure, for no other reason than hope?
Suppose then, if the outcome should worsen,
One would be left wholly unable to cope.
It tempts fate…
…but, wait.
It bears saying that when life is less than great,
And when comforts come too late
for believing in some long delayed arrival,
Maybe sometimes, hope is needed for survival,
Even if it’s just denial.
When you’re desperate for a source of heat and light
To guide you through the threatening shadows of the night
If some delusion can inspire the will to rise and fight,
Does it even matter if you’re right?
So if hope is the solemn striver’s star of restoration,
Where the broken heart can find itself adored,
Maybe faith in that “certain but unseen” is my salvation,
Or the blissful rays of hope their own reward….
or… maybe “Faith” is a kind of manifestation,
Whereby we conjure, forge our own realities
From the fragments of the infinite unknown!
So maybe “heaven” is to be relieved from doubt,
Or else the works we do in Faith bring it about,
And if a mustard seed of faith can move a mountain,
Then what happens when it sprouts?
…I’m not sure.
Who’s to say?
But I wonder…
How might I behave if I lived in faith that someday, some way…
…everything would turn out just the way it should,
Or better yet, that things should turn out good for me.
1 John 4:7-8
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. 1 John 4:7-8There is, I should say, a queer irony
For those of us reading this passage,
Those of us who, rejected in our homes,
Those who are told we must remain alone,
Those who, for safety's sake, stay silent, hoping to vanish…
They call us sick, call us sticks to be burned, I suppose that must be why they call us "flaming…"
We who risk our lives to love are now asked to believe that God is Love?
Was God Love to the young man they battered and left to die on a fence?
Was God Love to the parentless patients who languished in hospital beds?
Were you Love, to me, Lord,
When I begged You: burden me with something else.
Lord, make me prideful,
Lord, make me wrathful,
Lord make me greedy or envious, gluttonous, slothful, Lord,
Anything but lusting after bodies much too similar to mine.
Are you love, God?
Could you love me?
God answered not in a voice,
Nor a choice,
Nor the "healing" of that which was never a sickness
God answered instead in your kiss,
In that bliss,
In the feeling that all of the suffering was worth it
That everything has turned out as it should,
That you are good,
That maybe even I am good…
Then God answered plainly: "Yes, I Am."
Yes, Lord. I understand.
If God is Love, then it follows that Love is God.
It was in Love that the world was created,
Love parted the sea,
Love held the mouths of the lions,
In Love did the Prophets speak of plans,
And Love was the laying on of hands,
It was Love that sent Christ to speak of forgiveness,
In Love did he heal, In Love did he die, In Love was he raised.
To that Love, I bear my witness;
That the name of Love may ever be praised.
And if God is Love,
And if Love is God,
Then my Love for you is sacred,
And Holy, Holy, Holy.Lucas Ludwig Coura
Jonathan Dove | My Love is Mine
Text
O stand up, my love, my dove, my beautiful and come,
Winter is past, and the rain is away and gone.
The flowers are come up in the field, the twisting time is come
The vines bear blossoms and have a sweet scent.
Up, thou north wind, come thou south wind,
Blow upon my garden, that the smell thereof may be carried on every side.
Yea, that my beloved may come into my garden
And eat of the fruits and apples that grow therein.
My love is mine and I am his,
My love is mine which feedeth among the lillies
Until the day break and the shadows be gone.
O stand up, my love, my dove, my beautiful and come,
Out of the caverns of the rocks, out of the holes of the wall,
O let me see thy countenance and hear thy voice,
For sweet is thy voice, and fair thy face.
from Song of Solomon 2:10-14
Unsurprisingly for a program with this title, my first words of thanks must go to God, or the Universe, or Love itself, or whatever strange and eldritch force has insisted that I continue existing, despite my occasional protesting this.
Secondly, thank you to my family, which teaches me what Love means: Mom, you teach me to love unconditionally,
Dad, you teach me to love sacrificially,
Matheus, you teach me to love with dignity.To my teacher, Dr. Ian Howell, for so many things–but especially for teaching me to trust the evidence of my own eyes, ears, and body when singing, teaching, and living. Thank you for teaching me that it's worth doing the work to make it feel good.
To my coach and collaborator, JJ Penna, for his care, attention, and encouragement to every aspect of this program.
To every therapist who’s ever treated me. Seriously.
And finally, to my friends, too many to name, who lifted me up while I was down, who validated my work, who listened to me while I cried, who shared laughter, who showed care in more ways than I have even known to ask for. I am learning to love myself because of how much you love me.