Recital: Kate Wood '21 MM, Soprano

Mi palpita il cor

Recitativo
Mi palpita il cor né intendo perché, no.

Arioso
Agitata è l’alma mia né so cos’è.

Recitativo
Tormento e gelosia,
sdegno, affanno e dolore,
da me che pretendete?
Se mi volete amante, amante io sono.
Ma, oh Dio! non m’uccidete,
ch’il cor, fra tante pene,
più soffrire non può le sue catene!

Aria
Ho tanti affanni in petto,
che qual sia il più tiranno
io dir nol so.
So ben che do ricetto
a un aspro e crudo affanno
e che morendo vò.

Recitativo
Clori, di te mi lagno,
e di te, oh Nume,
figlio di Citerea, ch’il cor feristi
per una che non sa che costa è amore.
Ma se d’egual saettaa lei feristi il core,
più lagnarmi non voglio:
e riverente innanti al simulacro tuo
prostrato a terra, umil,
devoto, adorerò quel Dio
che fè contento e pago il mio desio.

Aria
Se un di m’adora la mia crudele,
contento allora il cor sarà
Che sia dolore, che sia tormento,
questo mio seno più non saprà.  

Anonymous

Recitative
My heart throbs, but I don’t know why.

Arioso
My soul is agitated, but I don’t know what it is.

Recitative
Torment and jealousy,
disdain, pain and sorrow,
what are you demanding of me?
If you want me to be a lover, I am a lover;
but, oh God! do not kill me,
as my heart in such pains
cannot bear its chains any longer.

Aria
I have so many pains in my heart,
that which of them is the worst,
I cannot say.
I know well that in me dwells
a bitter and cruel pain,
and that I will die.

Recitative
Clori, I complain about you,
and also about you, oh God,
son of Cytherea. You, who have wounded my heart
for one who does not know what love is.
Yet should you strike her heart with that same arrow,
then I shall complain no more:
and kneeling reverently in front of your image
on the ground, humbly,
I will devotedly worship that God
who fulfilled my desire with joy.

Aria
If one day my cruel beloved loves me,
then my heart will be happy.
My soul will never again know
either pain or torment.

Translation by Emma Abbate

Romance ‘Silence ineffable’

Silence ineffable de l’heure
Où le cœur aimant sur un cœur
Se laisse en aller et s’endort,
—Sur un cœur aimant qui l’adore! …

Musique tendre des paroles,
Comme un sanglot de rossignols,
Si tendre qu’on voudrait mourir,
—Sur la bouche qui les soupire! …

L’ivresse ardente de la vie
Fait défaillir l’amant ravi,
Et l’on n’entend battre qu’un cœur,
—Musique et silence de l’heure! …

Paul Bourget

Romance “Ineffable silence”

Ineffable silence of the hour
When the loving heart abandons itself
And sleeps on a loving heart
—Which adores it! …

Tender music of the words,
Like a sobbing nightingale,
So tender one would wish to die
—On the mouth that sighs them! …

Ardent intoxication of life
Makes the enraptured lover swoon,
And one hears the beating of a single heart, 
—Music, and the silence of the hour! …

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

Pierrot

Le bon Pierrot, que la foule contemple,
Ayant fini les noces d’Arlequin,
Suit en songeant le boulevard du Temple.
Une fillette au souple casaquin
En vain l’agace de son œil coquin;
Et cependant mystérieuse et lisse
Faisant de lui sa plus chère délice,
La blanche lune aux cornes de taureau
Jette un regard de son œil en coulisse
À son ami Jean Gaspard Deburau.

Théodore de Banville

Pierrot

Good old Pierrot, watched by the crowd,
Having done with Harlequin’s wedding,
Drifts dreamily along the boulevard of the Temple.
A girl in a flowing blouse
Vainly leads him on with her teasing eyes;
And meanwhile, mysterious and sleek,
Cherishing him above all else,
The white moon with horns like a bull
Ogles her friend 
Jean Gaspard Deburau.

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

Fête galante

Voilà Sylvandre et Lycas et Myrtil
Car c’est ce soir fête chez Cydalise.

Partout dans l’air court un parfum subtil,
Dans le grand parc où tout s'idéalise
Avec la rose Aminthe rivalise.
Philis, Eglé, que suivent leurs amants,
Cherchent l'ombrage en mille endroits charmants.
Dans le soleil qui s'irrite et qui joue,
Luttant d'orgueil avec les diamants,
Sur le chemin, le Paon blanc fait la roue. 

Théodore de Banville

Gallant party

Here is Silvandre and Lycas and Myrtil,
For tonight there is a celebration at the home of Cydalise.
Everywhere a subtle perfume fills the air,
In the great park where all is ideal
With the rose Aminthe competes.
Philis, Eglé, who are pursuing their lovers,
Seeking shade in a thousand charming places.
In the sun which is irritated and plays
they struggle pridefully to show off with the diamonds,
On the road, the white peacock spreads its tail. 

Translation by Kate Wood

Der Stern

Ich sehe ihn wieder den lieblichen Stern;
er winket hernieder, er nahte mir gern;
er wärmet und funkelt, je näher er kömmt,
die andern verdunkelt, die Herzen beklemmt.
Die Haare im Fliegen er eilet mir zu,
das Volk träumt von Siegen, ich träume von Ruh.
Die andern sich deuten die Zukunft daraus,
vergangene Zeiten mir leuchten ins Haus.

Achim von Arnim

The star

I see it again, the lovely star;
It waves down here, it approached me warmly;
It sends out its heat and twinkles, the nearer it comes, 
The others become dim, people's hearts are oppressed.
It hastens to me with hair in flight,
The people dream of victories, I dream of peace.
The others predict the future from it,
Times from long ago are illuminated for me in my house.

Translation copyright © by Joel Ayau, reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive -https://www.lieder.net

Der Pokal

Freunde, weihet den Pokal
Jener fremden Menschenwelt,
Die an gleichem Sonnenstrahl
Sich erhellt, gesellt, gefällt;
Glück den lieben unbekannten
Lichtgesandten Herzverwandten,
Deren Augen übergehn
Wenn sie in die Sonne sehn

Achim von Arnim

The goblet

Friends, consecrate the goblet
to that foreign world of mankind,
Which, by the same ray of sunshine
as we are, is illuminated, joined, pleased;
Drink to the happiness of beloved strangers,
Ambassadors of light, relatives of the heart,
Whose eyes also overflow with tears 
When they look into the sun.

Translation copyright © by Joel Ayau, reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive -- https://www.lieder.net/

Einerlei

Ihr Mund ist stets derselbe,
Sein Kuß mir immer neu,
Ihr Auge noch dasselbe,
Sein freier Blick mir treu;
O du liebes Einerlei,
Wie wird aus dir so mancherlei!

Achim von Arnim

Singular one

Her mouth remains the same,
Its kiss is ever new,
Her eyes yet unchanged,
Their boundless gaze true to me.
Oh you dear singular one,
What wondrous variety comes from you!

Translation copyright © by Lawrence Snyder and Rebecca Plack, reprinted with permission from the LiederNet Archive–https://www.lieder.net

Waldesfahrt

Mein Wagen rollet langsam
Durch lustiges Waldesgrün,
Durch blumige Täler, die zaubrisch
Im Sonnenglanze blühn.

Ich sitze und sinne und träume,
Und denk' an die Liebste mein;
Da grüßen drei Schattengestalten
Kopfnickend zum Wagen herein.

Sie hüpfen und schneiden Gesichter,
So spöttisch und doch so scheu,
Und quirlen wie Nebel zusammen,
Und kichern und huschen vorbei.

Heinrich Heine

Forest drive

My cart rolls slowly
through the cheerful forest green,
through flowery valleys that magically
bloom in the sun's gleam.

I sit and think and dream,
and muse about my sweetheart;
three shadowy forms greet me,
nodding through the carriage window.

They hop and make faces,
so mocking and yet so shy,
and they blend together like mist
and giggle and dart away. 

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

Schlechtes Wetter

Das ist ein schlechtes Wetter,
Es regnet und stürmt und schneit;
Ich sitze am Fenster und schaue
Hinaus in die Dunkelheit.

Da schimmert ein einsames Lichtchen,
Das wandelt langsam fort;
Ein Mütterchen mit dem Laternchen
Wankt über die Straße dort.

Ich glaube, Mehl und Eier
Und Butter kaufte sie ein;
Sie will einen Kuchen backen
Für's große Töchterlein.

Die liegt zu Hause im Lehnstuhl
Und blinzelt schläfrig ins Licht;
Die goldenen Locken wallen
Über das süße Gesicht.

Heinrich Heine

Terrible Weather

It is terrible weather:
it's raining and storming and snowing;
I sit at the window and gaze
out into the darkness.

There, a lonely light is gleaming,
and it moves slowly onward;
a little old woman with a lantern
totters across the street there.

Flour and eggs, I think,
and butter - she has bought;
she plans to bake a cake
for her grown-up darling daughter.

She is lying at home in an armchair
and she blinks sleepily in the light;
her golden curls straying
over her sweet face. 

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