THE BOB COLE CONSERVATORY OF MUSIC AT CALIFORNIA STATE UNIVERSITY, LONG BEACH AND THE COLLEGE OF THE ARTS PROUDLY PRESENT KATIE ODELL SOPRANO IN A JUNIOR RECITAL FRIDAY, APRIL 30, 2021 4:00PM PROGRAM From 36 Arie di Stile Antico Freschi luogi, prati aulenti Vaghissima sembianza Auf Flügeln des Gesanges from Op. 34 Sech Gesanges Gretchen am Spinnrade Wie melodien zieht es mir from Op. 105 Fünf Lieder “L’année en vain chasse l’année” from L’enfant prodigue INTERMISSION “Iolanta’s Arioso” from Iolanta Nuit d’étoiles La mer est plus belle from Trois mélodies de Verlaine “I have dreamt” from Wuthering Heights Do not go, my love “Carceleras” from Las hijas del Zebedeo Stefano Donaudy (1875-1925) Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847) Franz Schubert (1797-1828) Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) Claude Debussy (1862-1918) Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) Claude Debussy (1862-1918) Claude Debussy (1862-1918) Bernard Herrmann (1911-1975) Richard Hageman (1881-1966) Ruperto Chapí (1851-1909) TEXT AND TRANSLATIONS Freschi luogi, prati aulenti Poetry by Alberto Donaudy Freschi luogi, prati aulenti, Rimanete sempre in fior; Che l’estate non vi sementi, Che l’autunno non vi travolga, Che la morta stagion non tolga Tanto magico splendor. Voglio un dì vagar con lei Fra sì verde soavità, Quando alfin gli affanni miei Lei d’intender mostrerà, Lei d’intender mostrerà. Freschi luogi, prati aulenti, Rimanete sempre in fior, Che nessuna stagion vi tolga Tanto magico splendor. E voi pur, ruscelli chiari, Che di già correte al mar, Di vostr’acque non siate avari Nelle tarde stagion dell’anno, Non unite anche voi l’inganno D’un si breve prosperar. Vo’ specchiarmi un dì con lei Nelle vostre chiarità, Quando alfin gli affanni miei Lei d’intender mostrerà, Lei d’intender mostrerà. E voi pur, ruscelli chiari, Che di gia correte al mar, Non unite anche voi l’inganno D’un sì breve prosperar. Cool Places, Fragrant Meadows Cool places, fragrant meadows, Remain forever in bloom; Let summer not go to seed, Let the autumn not overwhelm you, Let the dead season not take away Your rich, magical splendor. I want one day to walk with her Amid such green softness, When at last, my heart’s anguish She will understand, She will understand. Cool places, fragrant meadows, Remain forever in bloom; Let no season take away Your rich, magical splendor. And you then, clear streams, Which are running quickly to the sea, Do not let your waters run low In the late season of the year, Do not subscribe to the deception Of the summer’s brief abundance. I want myself to be reflected one day with her In your clarity, When at last, my heart’s anguish She will understand, She will understand. And you then, clear streams, Which are running quickly to the sea, Do not subscribe to the deception Of the summer’s brief abundance. Vaghissima sembianza Poetry by Alberto Donaudy Vaghissima sembianza D’antico donna amata, Chi, dunque, va ritratta, Contanta somiglianza Ch’io guardo, e parlo, e credo D’avervi a me davanti Come ai bei di d’amor? La cara rimembranza Che in cor mi s’è destata Si ardente v’ha già fatta Rinascer la speranza, Che un bacio, un voto, un grido D’amore più non chiedo Che a lei che muta è ognor. Auf Flügeln des Gesanges Poetry by Heinrich Heine Auf Flügeln des Gesanges, Herzliebchen, trag ich dich fort, Fort nach den Fluren des Ganges, Dort weiß ich den schönsten Ort. Dort liegt ein rotblühender Garten Im stillen Mondenschein; Die Lotosbumen erwarten Ihr trautes Schwesterlein. Die Veilchen kichern und kosen, Und schaun nach den Sternen empor; Heimlich erzählen die Rosen Sich duftende Märchen ins Ohr. Es hüpfen herbei und lauschen Die frommen, klugen Gazell’n; Und in der Ferne rauschen Des heiligen Stromes Well’n. Beautiful Portrait Beautiful portrait Of a past love, Who was it that painted you With such clarity That I look, and speak, and believe That you are here before me As once in the beautiful days of love? The tender memories That have been awakened in my heart So passionately already Have revived my hope, That a kiss, a vow, a cry Of love - I ask no more Of the one who is forever silent. On Wings of Song On wings of song, My darling, I’ll carry you away, Away to the fields of the Ganges, Where I know the loveliest place; There lies a garden of red flowers In the still moonlight; The lotuses await Their beloved sister. The violets giggle and cuddle, And look at the stars above; Secretly the roses tell each other Fragrant fairytales in the ear. There leaping past and listening Are the gentle, wise gazelles, And in the distance murmur The waves of the holy stream. Dort wollen wir niedersinken Unter dem Palmenbaum, Und Liebe und Ruhe trinken, Und träumen seligen Traum. Gretchen am Spinnrade Poetry by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Meine Ruh’ ist hin, Mein Herz ist schwer, Ich finde sie nimmer Und nimmermehr. Wo ich ihn nicht hab’ Ist mir das Grab, Die ganze Welt Ist mir vergällt. Mein armer Kopf Ist mir verrückt Mein armer Sinn Ist mir zerstückt. Meine Ruh’ ist hin, Mein Herz ist schwer, Ich finde sie nimmer Und nimmermehr. Nach ihm nur schau’ ich Zum Fenster hinaus, Nach ihm nur geh’ ich Aus dem Haus. Sein hoher Gang, Sein’ edle Gestalt, Seines Mundes Lächeln, Seiner Augen Gewalt. Und seiner Rede Zauberfluss. Sein Händedruck, Und ach, sein Kuss! There, we will lie down Under the palm tree, And savor love and peace, And dream a blissful dream. Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel My peace is gone, My heart is heavy; I shall never, Ever find peace again. When he’s not with me, Life’s like the grave; The whole world Is turned to gall. My poor head Is crazed, My poor mind Shattered. My peace is gone, My heart is heavy; I shall never, Ever find peace again. It’s only for him I gaze from the window, It’s only for him I leave the house. His proud bearing, His noble form, The smile on his lips, The power of his eyes, And the magic flow Of his words, The touch of his hand, And ah, his kiss! Meine Ruh’ ist hin, Mein Herz ist schwer, Ich finde sie nimmer Und nimmermehr. Mein Busen drängt sich Nach ihm hin. Ach dürft’ ich fassen Und halten ihn. Und küssen ihn So wie ich wollt’ An seinen Küssen Vergehen sollt’! Meine Ruh’ ist hin, Mein Herz ist schwer... Wie melodien zieht es mir Poetry by Klaus Groth Wie Melodien zieht es Mir leise durch den Sinn, Wie Frühlingsblumen blüht es Und schwebt wie Duft dahin. Doch kommt das Wort und faßt es Und führt es vor das Aug’, Wie Nebelgrau erblaßt es Und schwindet wie ein Hauch. Und dennoch ruht im Reime Verborgen wohl ein Duft, Den mild aus stillem Keime Ein feuchtes Auge ruft. My peace is gone, My heart is heavy; I shall never, Ever find peace again. My bosom Yearns for him. Ah! if I could clasp And hold him, And kiss him To my heart’s content, And in his kisses Perish! My peace is gone, My heart is heavy... Like Melodies Thoughts, like melodies, Steal softly through my mind, Like spring flowers they blossom And drift away like fragrance. Yet when words come and capture them And bring them before my eyes, They turn pale like grey mist And vanish like a breath. Yet surely in rhyme A fragrance lies hidden, Summoned by moist eyes From the silent seed. “L'année en vain chasse l’année” from L’enfant prodigue Libretto by Édouard Guinand L'année en vain chasse l’année! A chaque saison ramenée, Leurs jeux et leurs ébats M’attristent malgré moi: Ils rouvrent ma blessure Et mon chagrin s'accroît... Je viens chercher la grève solitaire... Douleur involontaire! Efforts superflus! Lia pleure toujours L'enfant qu'elle n'a plus!... Azaël! Azaël! Pourquoi m'as-tu quittée?... En mon coeur maternel Ton image est restée. Azaël! Azaël! Pourquoi m'as-tu quittée?... Cependant les soirs étaient doux, Dans la plaine d'ormes plantée, Quand, sous la charge récoltée, On ramenait les grands boeufs roux. Lorsque la tâche était finie, Enfants, vieillards et serviteurs, Ouvriers des champs ou pasteurs, Louaient, de Dieu la main bénie; Ainsi les jours suivaient les jours Et dans la pieuse famille, Le jeune homme et la jeune fille Echangeaient leurs chastes amours. D'autres ne sentent pas Le poids de la vieillesse, - Heureux dans leurs enfants, Ils voient couler les ans, Sans regret comme sans tristesse... Aux coeurs inconsolés Que les temps sont pesants!... Azaël! Pourquoi m'as-tu quittée?... Year After Year Passes in Vain Year after year passes in vain! At each renewed season, Their games and their frolicking Sadden me helplessly: They reopen my wound And my sorrow grows... I come looking for the solitary shore... Unwitting pain! Useless efforts! Lia still weeps over The child she lost! Azaël! Azaël! Why did you leave me? In my maternal heart, Your likeness has remained. Azaël! Azaël! Why did you leave me? Nevertheless, the evenings were sweet In the valley of elms, When the great red oxen were brought back Under their harvested load. When the labor was over, Children, old folks and servants, Day laborers and pastors alike, Would praise the blessed hand of God; Thus the days followed the days, And in the pious family, The young man and the young girl Shared their chaste love. Others don't feel The weight of old age - Happy through their children, They see the years flow by, Without regret and without sadness... To inconsolable hearts How the times are heavy! Azaël! Why did you leave me? “Iolanta’s Arioso” from Iolanta Libretto by Modest Tchaikovsky Atchyevo eta pryezhdye nye znala Nee taskee ya nee gorya nee slyoz? Ee fsye dnee pratyekalee bivala Sryedee zvukav nyebyesnix ee roz? Chut’uslishu ya pteets shyebyetan’ye, Chut’ tyep lo azhiveed dal’nee bor, Ee vyezdye zazvucheet leekavan’ye Ya fstupala ftarzhestvyenni xor! Atyepyer fsyo mnye dnyom navyevayet, Nyepanyatni glubokee upryok - Ee ukori sud’bye pasilayet Pteechyek xor ee shumyashee patok. Atchyevo eta nochee malchan’ye Ee praxlada mnye stalee meelyei? Atchyevo ya kagbutta ridanya Slishu tam gdye payot salavyei, Atchevo? Skazhi, Marta. Nuit d’étoiles Poetry by Théodore de Banville Nuit d’étoiles, Sous tes voiles, Sous ta brise et tes parfums, Triste lyre Qui soupire, Je rêve aux amours défunts. La sereine mélancolie Vient éclore au fond de mon cœur, Et j’entends l’âme de ma mie Tressaillir dans le bois rêveur. Iolanta’s Arioso Why is it I previously never knew Sadness, grief, and tears? And all my days passed Among heavenly sounds and roses? When I heard the twittering of birds Exciting the surroundings, The celebration resounding everywhere, I joined this triumphant chorus! But now in the looming day, I am getting some unclear deep reproach My fate is receiving a reproach From a chorus of the noisy flood of birds. Why is it the silence of the night And cool air are more dear to me? Why, as if weeping, Do I hear the singing of a nightingale, Why? Tell me, Marta. Night of Stars Night of stars, Beneath your veils, beneath your breeze and fragrance, Sad lyre That sighs, I dream of bygone loves. Serene melancholy Now blooms deep in my heart, And I hear the soul of my love Quiver in the dreaming woods. Nuit d’étoiles, Sous tes voiles, Sous ta brise et tes parfums, Triste lyre Qui soupire, Je rêve aux amours défunts. Je revois à notre fontaine Tes regards bleus comme les cieux; Cette rose, c’est ton haleine, Et ces étoiles sont tes yeux. Nuit d’étoiles, Sous tes voiles, Sous ta brise et tes parfums, Triste lyre Qui soupire, Je rêve aux amours défunts. La mer est plus belle Poetry by Paul Verlaine La mer est plus belle Que les cathédrales, Nourrice fidèle, Berceuse de râles, La mer qui prie La Vierge Marie ! Elle a tous les dons Terribles et doux. J'entends ses pardons Gronder ses courroux. Cette immensité N'a rien d’entêté. Night of stars, Beneath your veils, beneath your breeze and fragrance, Sad lyre That sighs, I dream of bygone loves. Once more at our fountain I see Your eyes as blue as the sky; This rose is your breath And these stars are your eyes. Night of stars, Beneath your veils, beneath your breeze and fragrance, Sad lyre That sighs, I dream of bygone loves. The Sea is More Lovely The sea is more lovely Than the cathedrals, A faithful nurse, A lullaby of a death-rattle, The sea over which The Virgin Mary prays! It has all the qualities, Terrible and sweet. I hear its pardons, Grumbling its ire. This immensity Has no obstinacy. O! si patiente, Même quand méchante ! Un souffle ami hante La vague, et nous chante : « Vous sans espérance, Mourez sans souffrance ! » Et puis sous les cieux Qui s'y rient plus clairs, Elle a des airs bleus. Roses, gris et verts... Plus belle que tous, Meilleure que nous ! “I have dreamt” from Wuthering Heights Libretto by Lucille Fletcher I have dreamt, in my life, dreams That have stayed with me forever, And have gone through and through me, Like wine through water, And have altered the color of my mind. I dreamt once that I was in heaven, And that heav’n did not seem To be my home. And I broke my heart with weeping To see the heath again. And the angels flung me back to earth And Wuthering Heights, Where I awoke Sobbing, sobbing - for joy! Do not go, my love Poetry by Rabindranath Tagore Do not go, my love, Without asking my leave. I have watched all night, And now my eyes are heavy with sleep; Oh! So patient, Even when dangerous! A friendly breath haunts The wave, and sings to us: "You, without hope, Perish without suffering!” And then, beneath the skies That mock it by being brighter, It has the appearance of blue, Pink, grey, and green... More lovely than everything, Better than we! I fear lest I lose you When I am sleeping. Do not go, my love, Without asking my leave. I start up and stretch my hands To touch you. I ask myself, “Is it a dream?” Could I but entangle your feet With my heart, And hold them fast to my breast! Do not go, my love, Without asking my leave. “Carceleras” from Las hijas del Zebedeo Libretto by José Estremera Al pensar en el dueño de mis amores, siento yo unos mareos encantadores. Bendito sea aquel picaronazo que me marea. A mi novio yo le quiero porque roba corazones con su gracia y su salero. El me tiene muy ufana porque hay muchas que le quieren y se quedan con las ganas. Caprichosa yo nací, y le quiero solamente, solamente para mí. Que quitarme a mí su amor es lo mismo que quitarle las hojitas a una flor. Jailers When I think of the lord of my love, I feel a charming dizziness. Blessed be that rascal who makes me feel so dizzy. I love my beloved because he steals hearts, with his grace and his charm. He makes me feel proud because a lot of girls love him but they are left with their desire. Capricious I was born, and I want him all for myself, Only for myself. To take away from me his love is the same as ripping off the leaves of a flower. Yo me muero de gozo cuando me mira, y me vuelvo jalea cuando suspira. Si me echa flores siento el corazoncito morir de amores. Porque tiene unos ojillos que me miran entornados, muy gachones y muy pillos, y me dicen ¡ay! lucero, que por esa personita me derrito yo y me muero. Caprichosa yo nací, y le quiero solamente, solamente para mí. Que quitarme a mí su amor es lo mismo que quitarle las hojitas a una flor! I die of pleasure when he looks at me, and I lose my head when he sighs. When he throws flowers at me I feel my little heart die of love. For he has sweet eyes which look at me half-open very tenderly and very naughtily, telling me "Oh my darling, for this little one I will lose my soul and die.” Capricious I was born, and I want him all for myself Only for myself. To take away from me his love is the same as ripping off the leaves of a flower! THANK YOU SHIGEMI Words cannot express my gratitude for your guidance on my musical journey. I am convinced you are a miracle worker! Thank you for your vocal expertise and your generous spirit. I am so fortunate to be able to study with you. Thank you for helping me to bloom where I’m planted. :) MOM AND LUKE Thank you to my wonderful mother for being my rock throughout my life. I admire you for your compassion and work ethic. You have always supported me in pursuing my passions growing up, and music has been no exception! You are truly the wind beneath my wings. Thank you also to my brother Luke for helping me navigate the technical aspects of putting this recital together. I quite literally could not have done this without you! FRIENDS AND FAMILY Thank you to all those attending my virtual junior recital! I appreciate my family members who have always supported me. Thank you to old friends as well as the new friends I’ve been fortunate enough to meet at Bob Cole. I hope you enjoy the beautiful music that I have the honor of sharing. This recital is presented in partial fulfillment of the requirement for the BACHELOR OF MUSIC DEGREE with an option in OPERA KATIE ODELL is a student of SHIGEMI MATSUMOTO and has studied with Dr. Katharin Rundus, Dr. Kristin Chaudhary, and Donna Wicks