KIRI TE KANAWA, SOPRANO WARREN JONES, PIANO

Transcription

1 KIMMEL CENTER PRESENTS VERIZON HALL SATURDAY,SEPTEMBER 18 8PM WACHOVIA MASTER MUSICIANS,VOCAL SERIES KIRI TE KANAWA, SOPRANO WARREN JONES, PIANO HANDEL VIVALDI DEBUSSY HAHN FAURÉ STRAUSS Piangerò la sorte mia from Giulio Cesare Bel piacere from Agrippina Care selve from Atalanta Io son quel gelsomino from Arsilda Regina di Ponto Romance Á Chloris Après un Rêve Ständchen, Op. 17, No.2 Morgen, Op. 27, No.4 Das Rosenband, Op. 36, No.1 Cäcilie, Op. 27, No. 2 Intermission BERLIOZ POULENC Villanelle Le Spêctre de la Rose L Île inconnue Voyage à Paris Hôtel Les chemins de l Amour from Valse Chantée WOLF-FERRARI Rispetto I, Op. 12, No. 1 Rispetto III, Op. 11, No. 3 PUCCINI Morire? Sole e amore from Mattinata

2 GEORGE FRIDERIC HANDEL (b. Halle, Germany, 1685; d. London, England, 1759) Piangerò la sorte mia From Giulio Cesare E pur così in un giorno perdo fasti e grandezze? Ahi fato rio! Cesare, il mio bel nume, è forse estinto; Cornelia e Sesto inermi son, né sanno darmi soccorso. O dio! Non resta alcuna speme al viver mio. Piangerò la sorte mia, sì crudele e tanto ria, finché vita in petto avrò. Ma poi morta d'ogn'intorno il tiranno e notte e giorno fatta spettro agiterò. I shall lament my fate Why then, in one day, I am deprived of magnificence and glory? Oh, cruel fate! Caesar, my beloved idol is probably dead, Cornelia and Sextus are defenceless and cannot give me assistance. O God! There is no hope left in my life. I will bemoan my fate so cruel and brutal As long as there is breath left in my body. And when I am dead and become a ghost, I will haunt the tyrant night and day. Bel piacere From Agrippina Bel piacere è godere, È godere fido amor! Questo fà contento il core. Di bellezza non s apprezza lo splendor; Se non vien d'un fido core. It is great pleasure to enjoy It is great pleasure to enjoy, To enjoy a faithful love! This brings contentment to the heart. Splendor is not measured by beauty, If it does not come from a faithful heart. 2

3 Care selve From Atalanta Care selve, aure grate erbette e fiori, che l aspre mie querele compagni al dolor mio. Sì spesso udite, tutti a Clori ridite se l altro che di Lei parlo e ragiono e quanto all amo suo fedel io sono. Ridite, ridite a Clori, erbette e fiori, s altro mai sento foco al mio cor. Se lei non mior, piango e sospiro, e l mio lamento figlio è d amor. Se cangiarsi potesse l antica forma usata, O quante volte, o quante, in fronda, in sasso, in fior mi cangerei, almen baciar potrei calpestato talor sue vaghe piante; e nelle belle mani cangiato in fronda o fiore mi porterebbe amore. Non ha forza nel mio petto altro affetto altra beltà. Non conosce l alma amante l incostante infedeltà. Beloved woods TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS Beloved woods, pleasant breezes, grasses and flowers, who so often hear my bitter laments, companions to my pain. Tell them all to Chloris, say whether I talk and discourse of anything else but her, and tell her how faithful I am to her love. Say it once more to Chloris, grasses and flowers, if ever I felt another flame in my heart. If I do not gaze on her I weep and sigh, and my lament is the child of love. If it were possible to change one s old, worn shape, Oh how many times, how often would I change myself into a leafy branch, a stone, a flower, (for) I could at least, crushed underfoot, sometimes kiss her grateful feet; and love would transport me, changed into a branch or flowers, into her beautiful hands. No other affection, no other beauty has any power in my breast. The loving soul knows nothing of inconstant infidelity. Please turn pages quietly 3

4 ANTONIO VIVALDI (b. Venice, Italy, 1678; d. Vienna, Austria, 1741) Io son quel gelsomino From Arsilda Regina di Ponto I am that jasmine Io son quel gelsomino vicino al ruscelletto che ascoso tra l erbette, soletto se ne sta. Ha sol con fresche erbette diletto a favellar, senza provar timor che sopra il suo candor, ape a volar ne va. I am that jasmine near the brooklet who, hidden among the grasses, remains alone. I am pleased to converse only with fresh grasses, without feeling fear that, over its purity, the bee shall fly. CLAUDE DEBUSSY (b. St. Germain-en-Laye, France, 1862; d. Paris, France, 1918) Romance L âme évaporée et souffrante, L âme douce, l âme odorante Des lis divins que j ai cueillis Dans le jardin de ta pensée, Où donc les vents l ont-ils chassée, Cette âme adorable des lis? N est-il plus un parfum qui reste De la suavité céleste Des jours ou tu m'enveloppais D une vapeur surnaturelle, Faite d espoir, d amour fidèle, De béatitude et de paix? Romance The vanishing and suffering soul, The sweet soul, the fragrant soul Of divine lilies that I have picked In the garden of your thoughts, Where, then, have the winds chased it, This charming soul of the lilies? Is there no longer a perfume that remains Of the celestial sweetness Of the days when you enveloped me In a supernatural haze, Made of hope, of faithful love, Of bliss and of peace? REYNALDO HAHN (b. Carácas, Venezuela, 1874; d. Paris, France, 1947) Á Chloris S'il est vrai, Chloris, que tu m'aimes, Mais j'entends, que tu m'aimes bien, Je ne crois point que les rois mêmes Aient un bonheur pareil au mien. Que la mort serait importune De venir changer ma fortune A la félicité des cieux! Tout ce qu'on dit de l'ambroisie Ne touche point ma fantaisie Au prix des grâces de tes yeux. To Chloris If it be true, Chloris, that thou lovst me, And I understand that thou dost love me well, I do not believe that even kings Could know such happiness as mine. How unwelcome death would be, If it came to exchange my fortune With the joy of heaven! All that they say of ambrosia Does not fire my imagination Like the favour of thine eyes. 4

5 GABRIEL FAURÉ (b. Pamiers, France, 1845; d. Paris, France, 1924) Après un Rêve Dans un sommeil que charmait ton image Je rêvais le bonheur, ardent mirage, Tes yeux étaient plus doux, ta voix pure et sonore, Tu rayonnais comme un ciel éclairé par l aurore; Tu m appelais et je quittais la terre Pour m enfuir avec toi vers la lumière, Les cieux pour nous entr'ouvraient leurs nues, Splendeurs inconnues, lueurs divines entrevues, Hélas! Hélas! triste réveil des songes Je t appelle, ô nuit, rends moi tes mensonges, Reviens, reviens radieuse, Reviens ô nuit mystérieuse! After a dream In a slumber which held your image spellbound I dreamt of happiness, passionate mirage, Your eyes were softer, your voice pure and sonorous, You shone like a sky lit up by the dawn; You called me and I left the earth To run away with you towards the light, The skies opened their clouds for us, Unknown splendours, divine flashes glimpsed, Alas! Alas! sad awakening from dreams I call you, O night, give me back your lies, Return, return radiant, Return, O mysterious night. RICHARD STRAUSS (b. Munich, Germany, 1864; d. Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany, 1949) Ständchen, Op. 17, No. 2 Mach auf, mach auf, doch leise mein Kind, Um keinen vom Schlummer zu wecken. Kaum murmelt der Bach, kaum zittert im Wind Ein Blatt an den Büschen und Hecken. Drum leise, mein Mädchen, daß nichts sich regt, Nur leise die Hand auf die Klinke gelegt. Mit Tritten, wie Tritte der Elfen so sacht, Um über die Blumen zu hüpfen, Flieg leicht hinaus in die Mondscheinnacht, Zu mir in den Garten zu schlüpfen. Rings schlummern die Blüten am rieselnden Bach Und duften im Schlaf, nur die Liebe ist wach. Sitz nieder, hier dämmert's geheimnisvoll Unter den Lindenbäumen, Die Nachtigall uns zu Häupten soll Von unseren Küssen träumen, Und die Rose, wenn sie am Morgen erwacht, Hoch glühn von den Wonnenschauern der Nacht. Serenade Open up, open, but softly my dear, So as to wake no one from sleep. The brook hardly murmers, the wind hardly shakes A leaf on bush or hedge. So, softly, my maiden, so that nothing stirs, Just lay your hand softly on the doorlatch. With steps as soft as the footsteps of elves, Soft enough to hop over the flowers, Fly lightly out into the moonlit night, To steal to me in the garden. The flowers are sleeping along the rippling brook, Fragrant in sleep, only love is awake. Sit, here it darkens mysteriously Beneath the lindens, The nightingale over our heads Shall dream of our kisses, And the rose, when it wakes in the morning, Shall glow from the wondrous passions of the night. 5

6 Morgen, Op. 27, No. 4 Und morgen wird die Sonne wieder scheinen, und auf dem Wege, den ich gehen werde, wird uns, die Glücklichen, sie wieder einen inmitten dieser sonnenatmenden Erde... Und zu dem Strand, dem weiten, wogenblauen, werden wir still und langsam niedersteigen, stumm werden wir uns in die Augen schauen, und auf uns sinkt des Glückes stummes Schweigen. Tomorrow And tomorrow the sun will shine again, and on the path I will take, it will unite us again, we happy ones, upon this sun-breathing earth... And to the shore, the wide shore with blue waves, we will descend quietly and slowly; we will look mutely into each other's eyes and the silence of happiness will settle upon us. Das Rosenband, Op. 36, No. 1 Im Frühlingsschatten fand ich sie, Da band ich sie mit Rosenbändern: Sie fühlt es nicht und schlummerte. Ich sah sie an; mein Leben hing Mit diesem Blick an ihrem Leben: Ich fühlt es wohl und wußt es nicht. Doch lispelt ich ihr sprachlos zu Und rauschte mit den Rosenbändern. Da wachte sie vom Schlummer auf. Sie sah mich an; ihr Leben hing Mit diesem Blick an meinem Leben, Und um uns ward Elysium. The Rosy Ribbon In spring shade I found her, and bound her with rosy ribbons: she did not feel it, and slumbered on. I looked at her; my life hung with that gaze on her life: I felt it well, but knew it not. But I whispered wordlesly to her and rustled the rosy ribbons. Then she awoke from her slumber. She looked at me; her life hung with this gaze on my life: and around us it became Elysium. 6

7 Cäcilie, Op. 27, No. 2 Cecily TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS Wenn du es wüßtest, Was träumen heißt von brennenden Küssen, Von Wandern und Ruhen mit der Geliebten, Aug in Auge, Und kosend und plaudernd, Wenn du es wüßtest, Du neigtest dein Herz! Wenn du es wüßtest, Was bangen heißt in einsamen Nächten, Umschauert vom Sturm, da niemand tröstet Milden Mundes die kampfmüde Seele, Wenn du es wüßtest, Du [kämest] zu mir. Wenn du es wüßtest, Was leben heißt, umhaucht von der Gottheit Weltschaffendem Atem, Zu schweben empor, lichtgetragen, Zu seligen [Höhn,] Wenn du es wüßtest, Du lebtest mit mir! If you only knew what it's like to dream of burning kisses, of wandering and resting with one's beloved, eye turned to eye, and cuddling and chatting if you only knew, you would incline your heart to me! If you only knew what it's like to feel dread on lonely nights, surrounded by a raging storm, while no one comforts with a mild voice your struggle-weary soul if you only knew, you would come to me. If you only knew what it's like to live, surrounded by God's world-creating breath, to float up, carried by the light, to blessed heights - if you only knew, then you would live with me! Intermission 7

8 HECTOR BERLIOZ (b. La Côte-St André, Grenoble, 1803; d. Paris, France, 1869) Villanelle Villanelle Quand viendra la saison nouvelle, Quand auront disparu les froids, Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle, Pour cueillir le muguet aux bois. Sous nos pieds égrénant les perles Que l on voit, au matin trembler, Nous irons écouter les merles Siffler. Le printemps est venu, ma belle; C est le mois des amants béni; Et l oiseau, satinant son aile, Dit [ses] vers au rebord du nid. Oh! Viens donc sur ce banc de mousse, Pour parler de nos beaux amours, Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce: Toujours! Loin, bien loin égarant nos courses, Faisons fuir le lapin caché, Et le daim, au miroir des sources Admirant son grand bois penché; Puis chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises, En paniers, en laçant nos doigts, Revenons, rapportant des fraises, Des bois. When verdant spring again approaches, When winter s chills have disappeared, Through the woods we shall stroll, my darling, The fair primrose to cull at will. The trembling bright pearls that are shining, Each morning we shall brush aside; We shall go to hear the gay thrushes Singing. The flowers are abloom, my darling, Of happy lovers tis the month; And the bird his soft wing englossing, Sings carols sweet within his nest. Come with me on the mossy bank, Where we ll talk of nothing else but love, And whisper with thy voice so tender: Always! Far, far off let our footsteps wander, Fright ning the hiding hare away, While the deer at the spring is gazing, Admiring his reflected horns. Then back home, with our hearts rejoicing, And fondly our fingers entwined, Lets return, let s return bringing fresh wild berries Wood-grown. 8

9 Le spêctre de la Rose Soulêve ta paupière close Qu effleure un songe virginal! Je suis le spectre d une rose Que tu portais hier au bal. Tu me pris encore emperlée Des pleurs d argent de l arrosoir, Et, parmi la fête étoilée, Tu me promenas tout le soir. O toi qui de ma mort fus cause, Sans que tu puisses le chasser, Toutes les nuits mon spectre rose A ton chevet viendra danser; Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame Ni messe ni De Profundis. Ce léger parfum est mon äme, Et j'arrive du du paradis. Mon destin fut digne d'envie, Et pour avoir un sort si beau Plus d un aurait donné sa vie; Car sur ton sein j ai mon tombeau, Et sur l albâtre où je repose Un poëte avec un baiser Écrivit: Cigît une rose, Que tous les rois vont jalouser. The ghost of the rose TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS Open your closed eyelid Which is gently brushed by a virginal dream! I am the ghost of the rose That you wore last night at the ball. You took me when I was still sprinkled with pearls Of silvery tears from the watering-can, And, among the sparkling festivities, You carried me the entire night. O you, who caused my death: Without the power to chase it away, You will be visited every night by my ghost, Which will dance at your bedside. But fear nothing; I demand Neither Mass nor De Profundis; This mild perfume is my soul, And I've come from Paradise. My destiny is worthy of envy; And to have a fate so fine, More than one would give his life For on your breast I have my tomb, And on the alabaster where I rest, A poet with a kiss Wrote: Here lies a rose, Of which all kings may be jealous. 9

10 L Île inconnue Dites, la jeune belle, Où voulez-vous aller? La voile enfle son aile, La brise va souffler. L aviron est d'ivoire, Le pavillon de moire, Le gouvernail d'or fin; J ai pour lest une orange, Pour voile une aile d'ange, Pour mousse un séraphin. Dites, la jeune belle, Où voulez-vous aller? La voile enfle son aile, La brise va souffler. Est-ce dans la Baltique? Dans la mer Pacifique? Dans l île de Java? Ou bien est-ce en Norvège, Cueillir la fleur de neige, Ou la fleur d Angsoka? Dites, la jeune belle, Où voulez-vous aller? Menez-moi, dit la belle, À la rive fidèle Où l on aime toujours! Cette rive, ma chère, On ne la connaît guère Au pays des amours. The Unknown Island Say, young beauty, Where do you wish to go? The sail swells itself, The breeze will blow. The oar is made of ivory, The flag is of silk, The helm is of fine gold; I have for ballast an orange, For a sail, the wing of an angel, For a deck boy, a seraph. Say, young beauty, Where do you wish to go? The sail swells itself, The breeze will blow. Is it to the Baltic? To the Pacific Ocean? To the island of Java? Or is it well to Norway, To gather the flower of the snow, Or the flower of Angsoka? Say, young beauty, Where do you wish to go? Lead me, says the beauty, To the faithful shore Where one loves always! This shore, my darling, We hardly know at all In the land of Love. FRANCIS POULENC (b. Paris, France, 1899; d. Paris, France, 1963) Voyage à Paris Ah! la charmante chose Quitter un pays morose Pour Paris Paris joli Qu un jour dût créer l Amour. Going to Paris Ah, how delightful it is to leave a dismal place and head for Paris! Beautiful Paris, which one day Love had to create! 10

11 Hôtel Hotel TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS Ma chambre a la forme d une cage, Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre. Mais moi qui veux fumer pour faire des mirages J allume au feu du jour ma cigarette. Je ne veux pas travailler je veux fumer. My room has the form of a cage. The sun reaches its arm in through the window. But I want to smoke and make shapes in the air, and so I light my cigarette on the sun s fire. I don t want to work, I want to smoke Les chemins de l Amour From Valse Chantée Les chemins qui vont à la mer Ont gardé de notre passage Des fleurs effeuillées Et l écho sous leurs arbres De nos deux rires clairs Hélas! des jours de bonheur Radieuses joies envolées Je vais sans retrouver traces Dans mon coeur. Chemins de mon amour. Je vous cherche toujours. Chemins perdus vous n êtes plus Et vos échos sont sourds. Chemins du désespoir. Chemins du souvenir. Chemins du premier jour. Divins chemins d amour. Si je dois l oublier un jour. La vie effaçant toute chose. Je veux dans mon coeur qu un souvenir repose Plus fort que l autre amour. Le souvenir du chemin. Où tremblante et toute éperdue. Un jour j ai senti sur moi Brûler tes mains. Chemins de mon amour, etc. The paths of love The paths that lead to the sea have kept of our passage the petals of plucked flowers and the echo beneath their trees of our sparkling laughter. Alas! of those happy days, radiant joys that flew away, no trace I find in my heart. Paths of love, I seek forever, lost paths, you are no more and your echoes are dead. Paths of despair. Paths of memory. Paths of the first day. Divine paths of love. If I must one day forget it, life effacing everything, I would that one memory rest in my heart, stronger than that other love, the memory of the path, where trembling and bewildered, one day I felt upon me your burning hand. Paths of love, etc. 11

12 ERMANNO WOLF-FERRARI (b. Venice, Italy, 1876; d. Venice, Italy, 1948) Rispetto I, Op. 12, No. 1 Quando ti vidi a quel canto apparire Ti assomigliai alla spera del sole. Abbassai gli occhi e non seppi che dire: Allora incominciava il nostro amore. Ora che il nostro amor è cominciato Vogliami un po' di ben giovin garbato. I Respect I When thy fair beauty appeared before me, then thou wert great as the sun in his glory. Scarce could I look on thee, dumbness came o er me; I knew then that my heart had flown to its lover. Now my poor heart to thee is given over, give, nor deny me thine, gentle young lover. Rispetto III, Op. 11, No. 3 E tanto c è pericol ch io ti lasci quanto in mezzo del mar fare un giardino a torno a torno un muricciuol di sassi ed in quel mezzo porvi un gelsomino. E quando il gelsomin sarà fiorito allora il nostro amor il nostro amor sarà finito! I Respect III Beloved, have no fear lest I forsake thee, Easier is it at sea gardens to make thee, With ocean circling and rocky wall defending, Then on the surface plant a bow r of roses. Until one single flow r in bloom uncloses, I ll then my love for thee, my love for thee shall have no end. GIACOMO PUCCINI (b. Lucca, Italy, 1858; d. Brussels, Belgium 1924) Morire?... ma voi che siete all altra sponda Sulla riva immensa ove fiorisce il fiore della vita Son certo, lo saprete. To Die?... but you who are on the other bank, on the immense shore where the flower of life blossoms, I m certain you will know. Sole e amore From Mattinata Il sole allegramente batte ai tuoi vetri; Amor pian pian batte al tuo cuore E l uno e l'altro chiama. Il sole dice: O dormente, mostrati che sei bella. Dice l amor: Sorella, col tuo primo pensier Pensa a chi t ama! Sun and Love The sun joyfully taps at your windows; Love very softly taps at your heart, And they are both calling you. The sun says: Oh sleeper, show yourself for you are beautiful! Love says: Sister, with your first thought Think of the one who loves you! 12