April 30, 2021 6:00 P.M. Online PROGRAM “O patria … Di tanti palpiti”…...………………………..….…….Gioachino Rossini (1792-1868) from Tancredi *** From Frauenliebe und Leben………………………...…………....Robert Schumann (1810-1856) Er, der Herrlichste von allen Du Ring an meinem Finger *** “Nobles Seigneurs, Salut!” ……...………………………..…... Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791-1864) from Les Huguenots INTERMISSION Accompanied Poetry Reading: From Songs of Bilitis (translated)……………………………….…… Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925) From “Bucolics in Pamphilia” Pastoral Song The Rain Bilitis The Moon With Blue Eyes The River in the Forest Lykas Trois Chansons de Bilitis………………...…..……………….....…..Claude Debussy (1862-1918) I. La flûte de Pan II. La chevelure III. Le tombeau des Naiades *** “Non so piu, cosa son, cosa faccio”.……………………Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) from Le Nozze di Figaro *** An April Day……………………………...………………………..Florence B. Price (1887-1953) Beside the Sea The Heart of a Woman Night We Have Tomorrow *** *** please hold your applause until the end of each set -3- Program Notes “O patria … Di tanti palptiti” is an aria from Tancredi, one of Gaetano Rossini’s many masterful operas. Tancredi is based on a tragedy by Voltaire, named Tancréde. The opera describes a pseudo-historic figure, Tancredi, from eleventh century Syracuse. The mostly- fictional opera describes a soldier who was exiled from Syracuse for many years, who returns with a vengeance and a plan to reconnect with his past love, Amenaide. This recitativo and aria, “o patria … Di tanti palptiti” displays the moment when Tancredi breaks exile and anticipates reuniting with his love. For those who miss loved ones, their homeland, or life before COVID- 19, this piece is a reminder of the beautiful reunion that is certain to come. Frauen liebe und-leben (Woman’s love and life) is one of Robert Schumann’s most famous song cycles, and a beautiful example of German Lieder. These pieces display Schumann’s incredible marriage of poetry to music, as well as a literal marriage. This song cycle paints a beautiful portrait of a woman as she falls in love, and follows her through marriage and childbearing. The two pieces on this program, “Er, der Herrlichste von allen” and “Du ring an meinem Finger” portray the beginning of her journey. By centering a female story, Robert Schumann used his platform as a celebrated Romantic composer to diversify the stories being told at the time. Despite Schumann's intentions to highlight women, some modern critics find issue with the lack of women involved in the creation of this work, with the poet, Adelbert von Chamisso also being male. The audience is encouraged to come to their own conclusions on this issue. Les Huguenots is a French opera by Giacomo Meyerbeer, and a spectacular example of the grand opera genre. The aria, “Nobles Seigneurs, Salut!,” is a sampling of the spectacle included in Les Huguenots. Despite its length and pageantry, “Nobles Seigneurs, Salut!” has very little to do with the plot of its opera. Urbain sings this aria to set up an announcement from the queen, but listeners will notice that Urbain does not actually reveal the important announcement. This charming and comedically extravagant (read:extra) aria serves as an entertaining pause from the action in the Les Huguenots. Pierre Louÿs was a French poet and Grecian enthusiast, so much so that he changed the spelling of his surname from “Louis” to have a more Greek spelling. Louÿs was an advocate for sexual freedom, and wrote a book of poetry surrounding a fictional ancient Greek woman named Bilitis. In the book, Chansons de Bilitis (Songs of Bilitis), Bilitis accounts her many experiences including run-ins with Psappha (an alternate spelling of Sappho), and her multiple lovers, both male and female. The six poems included in this program are from “Bucolics in Pamphilia,” the first chapter of Louÿs’s masterwork. These poems will be read in English. This chapter displays Bilitis’ coming of age: from her childlike adventures in nature to the end of her first sexual relationship. These six poems are accompanied by excerpts from Musique de scène pour Les Chansons de Bilitis (Stage music for The Songs of Bilitis) by Claude Debussy. This work was explicitly created to accompany poetry readings from Songs of Bilitis. Louÿs and Debussy were close friends up until Debussy’s marriage, so Debussy’s Musique de scène pour Les Chansons de Bilitis along with his song cycle, Trois Chansons de Bilitis, were two of many projects Louÿs and Debussy discussed. Unfortunately, those two works were the only two that they finished. Debussy’s Trois Chansons de Bilitis is set to three poems from “Bucolics in Pamphilia,” including the last poem in which Bilitis’ childhood and major -4- relationship have ended. This song cycle is one of the many incredible contributions Debussy made to the genre of French melodie. The three songs are each marked by their distinct moods, representing the beginning, middle, and end of a romantic relationship. “Non so piu cosa son, cosa faccio” is one of the most well known arias from one of the most popular operas performed today, Le Nozze di Figaro. The opera is a delightful collaboration between composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and librettist Lorenzo da Ponte. Cherubino, a young page in the manor, sings this aria to express his sexual awakening and accompanying frustration. This aria comically presents the universal experience of puberty, with both vulnerability and relatability. It is difficult to overstate the importance of Florence Beatrice Price in North American music history. Not only was she a prodigy performer and composer, but she also became an incredibly successful music teacher, mentoring the famed Margaret Bonds. Price also went on to win the Wanamaker competition with her Symphony in E minor, which made her the first black female composer to have a symphony performed by a major orchestra in the United States. Price’s music naturalistically combines neo-Romantic musical style with contemporary American folk themes and stylings. The songs selected for this program include the theme of using the natural world to explain the struggles and beauty of life. The first song, “An April Day” is a simple and beautiful ode to spring. The second, “Beside the Sea” uses imagery of the ocean to address grief and loss. “The Heart of a Woman,” with poetry by Georgia Douglas Johnson, is the crown jewel of this song set. This poem's title also functions as the title of Price’s (and Maya Angelou’s) biography (The Heart of a Woman: The Life and Music of Florence B. Price). “The Heart of a Woman” uses imagery of a caged bird to describe the difficulty of existing as a woman in the world. The last two pieces, “Night” and “We Have Tomorrow” create an image of a new day breaking, bringing necessary hope for change and the future. Composed in these pieces lie references to Price’s experience at the intersection of gender and race that Rachel Steinke will not be able to represent in her performance. -5- Texts & Translations “O patria … Di tanti palpiti” “Oh homeland… Amid so much agitation” From Tancredi Libretto by Gaetano Rossi (1774-1855) Oh patria! Oh homeland! Dolce e ingrata patria, Sweet and harsh homeland, alfine a te ritorno! I return to you at last! Io ti saluto, I greet you, o cara terra degli avi miei... Ti bacio! oh dear land of my ancestors... I kiss you! È questo per me giorno sereno; This is for me a serene day; comincia il cor a respirarmi in seno. My heart is starting to breathe calmly in my chest. Amenaide! O mio pensier soave, Amenaide! Oh, my sweetest thought, solo dei miei sospir, My one and only desire, de' voti miei celeste oggetto, of all my vows the heavenly object, io venni alfin: io voglio, I have come at last: I want, sfidando il mio destin, (While) challenging my destiny, qualunque sia, meritarti However it might be, to be worthy of you o perir, anima mia! or to die, my soul! Tu che accendi questo core, You who set this heart alight, tu che desti il valor mio, You who gave me courage, alma gloria, dolce amore, Glorious soul, sweet love, secondate il bel desio, Support my beautiful aspiration: cada un empio traditore, May the impious traitor fall coronate la mia fé. As my faith is crowned. Di tanti palpiti, di tante Amid so much agitation, amid much so pene, suffering, da te mio bene, spero merce. From you, my darling, I hope for mercy. Mi rivedrai... You shall see me again... Ti rivedrò... I shall see you again... Nei tuoi bei rai mi pascerò. In your lovely eyes I will be nourished. Deliri, sospiri, Fantasies, sighs, Accenti contenti! Happy voices! Sarà felice, il cor mel dice, My heart says that, by your side, il mio destino vicino a te. My destiny shall be joyful. -6- Er, der Herrlichste von allen He, the most wonderful of all Poetry by Adelbert von Chamisso (1781-1838) Er, der Herrlichste von allen, He, the most wonderful of all, Wie so milde, wie so gut! How gentle and good he is! Holde Lippen, klares Auge, Lovely lips, clear eyes, Heller Sinn und fester Mut. A bright mind and firm resolve. So wie dort in blauer Tiefe, Just as there in the deep-blue distance Hell und herrlich, jener Stern, That star gleams bright and brilliant, Also er an meinem Himmel, So does he shine in my sky, Hell und herrlich, hehr und fern. Bright and brilliant, distant and sublime. Wandle, wandle deine Bahnen; Wander, wander on your way, Nur betrachten deinen Schein, Just to gaze on your radiance, Nur in Demut ihn betrachten, Just to gaze on in humility, Selig nur und traurig sein! To be but blissful and sad! Höre nicht mein stilles Beten, Do not heed my silent prayer, Deinem Glücke nur geweiht; Uttered for your happiness alone, Darfst mich niedre Magd nicht kennen, You shall never know me, lowly as I am, Hoher Stern der Herrlichkeit! You noble star of splendor! Nur die Würdigste von allen Only the worthiest woman of all Darf beglücken deine Wahl, May your choice elate, Und ich will die Hohe segnen, And I shall bless that exalted one Viele tausendmal. Many thousands of times. Will mich freuen dann und weinen, Then shall I rejoice and weep, Selig, selig bin ich dann; Blissful, blissful shall I be, Sollte mir das Herz auch brechen, Even if my heart should break, Brich, o Herz, was liegt daran? Break, O heart, what does it matter? Du Ring an meinem Finger You ring on my finger Poetry by Adelbert von Chamisso (1781-1838) Du Ring an meinem Finger, You ring on my finger, Mein goldenes Ringelein, My golden little ring, Ich drücke dich fromm an die Lippen, I press you devoutly to my lips, Dich fromm an das Herze mein. To my heart. Ich hatt ihn ausgeträumet, I had finished dreaming Der Kindheit friedlich schönen Traum, Childhood’s peaceful dream, Ich fand allein mich, verloren I found myself alone, forlorn Im öden, unendlichen Raum. In boundless desolation. -7- Du Ring an meinem Finger You ring on my finger, Da hast du mich erst belehrt, You first taught me, Hast meinem Blick erschlossen Opened my eyes Des Lebens unendlichen, tiefen Wert. To life’s deep eternal worth. Ich will ihm dienen, ihm leben, I shall serve him, live for him, Ihm angehören ganz, Belong to him wholly, Hin selber mich geben und finden Yield to him and find Verklärt mich in seinem Glanz. Myself transfigured in his light. Du Ring an meinem Finger, You ring on my finger, Mein goldenes Ringelein, My golden little ring, Ich drücke dich fromm an die Lippen, I press you devoutly to my lips, Dich fromm an das Herze mein. To my heart. “Nobles Seigneurs, Salut!” “Noble Lords, Hello!” From Les Huguenots Libretto by Eugène Scribe (1791-1861) and Émile Deschamps (1791-1871) Nobles seigneurs, salut! Noble lords, hello! Une dame noble et sage, A lady, noble and wise, Dont les rois seraient jaloux, Of whom kings would be jealous, M’a chargé de ce message, Has charged me with this message, Chevaliers, pour l’un de vous. Gentlemen, for one of you. Without naming the recipient, all honor is Sans qu’on la nomme, honneur ici here Goes to the gentleman whom she has chosen! Au gentilhomme qu’elle a choisi! You can believe that no lord Vous pouvez croire que nul seigneur Has had such glory nor good fortune. N’eut tant de gloire ni de bonheur. No, never! Non, jamais! Do not fear lies or trickery, Ne craignez mensonge ou piège, Gentlemen, in my speech. Chevaliers, dans mes discours. Now greetings, may God protect your Or salut, que Dieu protège vos combats, vos combats, your loves! amours! Now greetings, may God protect your loves! Or salut, chevaliers! Dieu protège vos amours! -8- Accompanied Poetry Reading: Pastoral Song From “Bucolics in Pamphilia” Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925), translated by the Parnassian Society I must sing a pastoral song to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind. I guard my flock and Selenis hers, in the round shadow of a trembling olive tree. Selenis is lying on the meadow. She gets up And runs about, or hunts for locusts, or gathers Plants and flowers, or washes her face in the fresh water of the brook. As for me, I pull wool from the white backs Of the lambs to decorate my distaff, and I spin. The hours linger. An eagle passes in the heavens. The shadow turns. We change the place of the basket of flowers and the jar of milk. I must sing a pastoral song to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind. The Rain From “Bucolics in Pamphilia” Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925), translated by the Parnassian Society The fine rain has moistened everything, Very gently and in silence. It still rains a little. I am going out under the trees. With naked feed, so as not to stain my sandals. The spring rain is delicious. The branches, Heavy with damp flowers, have a perfume Which stuns me. Shining in the sun one sees The delicate skin of the bark of the trees. Alas, how many flowers on the ground! Pity The fallen flowers. They must not be scattered And mingled with the dirt, but saved for the bees. The beetles and the snails cross the road Between the little pools of water; I would not -9- Tread on them, nor frighten this gilded lizard Which stretches itself and blinks its eyelids. Bilitis From “Bucolics in Pamphilia” Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925), translated by the Parnassian Society One woman wraps herself in white wool; Another dresses herself in silk and gold; Another covers herself with flowers, Green leaves and grapes. As for me, I only know hot to live when nude. My lover, take me as I am: without robe or Jewels or sandals. Here is Bilitis, all alone. My hair is black with its own black, and my Lips red with their own red. My curls float About me free and round, like feathers. Take me as my mother made me in a night Of love long past; and if I please you thus, Do not forget to tell me. The Moon With Blue Eyes From “Bucolics in Pamphilia” Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925), translated by the Parnassian Society At night the hair of women blends with The willow branches. I walked to the Edge of the water. All at once I heard Singing. Then only did I realize that young Girls were there. I said to them: “Why are you singing?” They Answered: “To those who are returning.” The One awaited her father; the other, her brother; But she who awaited her lover was the most Impatient. They had woven for them crowns and Garlands, cut from the fronds of the palm trees And drawn from the water-lotus. Their arms About each other’s necks, they sang, one after The other. - 10 - I walked along the river sadly and all alone; But looking about me, I saw that behind the Great trees the moon with blue eyes was Accompanying me. The River in the Forest From “Bucolics in Pamphilia” Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925), translated by the Parnassian Society I bathed alone in the forest river. Without doubt I frightened the naiads, for I Scarecely saw them, far away under the Dark water. I called them. In order to be quite like them, I wove behind my neck iris, black as my hair, With berries of the yellow wallflower. With a long, floating plant, I made for myself A green belt; and to see it, I pressed my breasts And leaned my head forwards a little. And I called: “Naiads! Naiads! Play with Me. Be kind.” But the naiads are transparent, And perhaps, without knowing it, I caressed Their airy arms. Lykas From “Bucolics in Pamphilia” Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925), translated by the Parnassian Society Come, we will go into the meadows, Under the branches of the juniper trees. We will eat honey in the rushes. We Will make traps for locusts with the stems of Asphodels. Come, we will go to see Lykas, who guards the Flocks of his father on the shadowy slopes of Taurus. Surely he will give us some milk. Already I hear the sound of his flute. He is a very skillful player. Behold, here are the dogs, and the lambs, and he himself, leaning against the tree. Is he not beautiful as Adonis? - 11 - O Lykas, give us some milk. Here are some Figs from our fig trees. We are going to stay With you. Bearded she-goats, do not jump, Lest you excite the restless bucks. La flûte de Pan Pan’s flute Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925) Pour le jour des Hyacinthies, il m’a donné une For Hyacinthus day he gave me a syrinx made syrinx faite de roseaux bien taillés, unis avec of carefully cut reeds, bonded with white wax la blanche cire qui est douce à mes lèvres which tastes sweet to my lips comme le miel. like honey. Il m’apprend à jouer, assise sur ses genoux; He teaches me to play, as I sit on his lap; but I mais je suis un peu tremblante. Il en joue am a little fearful. He plays it after me, so après moi, si doucement que je l’entends à gently that I scarcely hear him. peine. Nous n’avons rien à nous dire, tant nous We have nothing to say, so close are we one sommes près l’un de l’autre; mais nos to another; but our chansons veulent se répondre, et tour à tour songs try to answer each other, and our nos bouches s’unissent sur la flûte. mouths join in turn on the flute. Il est tard; voici le chant des grenouilles It is late; here is the song of the green frogs vertes qui commence avec la nuit. that begins with the night. Ma mère ne croira jamais que My mother will never believe je suis restée si longtemps à chercher ma I stayed out so long to look for my ceinture perdue. lost sash. La chevelure The Hair-tresses Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925) Il m’a dit: «Cette nuit, j’ai rêvé. J’avais ta He said to me: “Last night I dreamed. I had chevelure autour de mon cou. your hair-tresses around my neck. J’avais tes cheveux comme un collier noir I had your hair like a black necklace autour de ma nuque et sur ma poitrine. all round my nape and over my breast. «Je les caressais, et c’étaient les miens; et “I caressed it and it was mine; and nous étions liés pour toujours ainsi, par la we were united thus forever by the même chevelure, la bouche sur la bouche, same tresses, mouth on mouth, ainsi que deux lauriers n’ont souvent qu’une just as two laurels often share one racine. root. - 12 - «Et peu à peu, il m’a semblé, tant nos “And gradually it seemed to me, so membres étaient confondus, que je devenais intertwined were our limbs, that I was toi-même ou que tu entrais becoming you, or you were entering en moi comme mon songe.» into me like a dream.” Quand il eut achevé, il mit doucement ses When he had finished, he gently set his hands mains sur mes épaules, et il me regarda on my shoulders and gazed at me d’un regard si tendre, with a glance so tender, que je baissai les yeux avec un frisson. that I lowered my eyes with a shiver. Le tombeau des Naiades The tomb of the Naiads Poetry by Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925) Le long du bois couvert de givre, je marchais; Along the frost-bound wood I walked; my mes cheveux devant ma bouche se hair across my mouth, fleurissaient de petits glaçons, et mes blossomed with tiny icicles, and my sandales étaient lourdes de neige fangeuse et sandals were heavy with muddy, packed tassée. snow. Il me dit: «Que cherches-tu?»—«Je suis la He said to me: “What do you seek?” “I follow trace du satyre. the satyr’s track. Ses petits pas fourchus alternent comme des His little cloven hoof-marks alternate like trous dans un manteau blanc.» holes in a white cloak.” Il me dit: «Les satyres sont morts. He said to me: “The satyrs are dead. «Les satyres et les nymphes aussi. Depuis “The satyrs and the nymphs too. For thirty trente ans il n’a pas fait un hiver aussi terrible. years there has not been so harsh a winter. La trace que tu vois est celle d’un bouc. The tracks you see are those of a goat. Mais restons ici, où est leur tombeau.» But let us stay here, where their tomb is.” Et avec le fer de sa houe il cassa la glace And with the iron of his hoe he broke the ice de la source où jadis riaient les naïades. of the spring where the naiads used to laugh. Il prenait de grands morceaux froids, He picked up some huge cold fragments, et les soulevant vers le ciel pâle, and, raising them to the pale sky, il regardait au travers. he gazed through them. “Non so piu, cosa son, cosa faccio” “I do not know who I am, or what I am doing” From Le Nozze di Figaro Libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte (1749-1838) Non so piu cosa son, cosa faccio, I do not know who I am, or what I’m doing, Or di foco, ora sono di ghiaccio, First I'm on fire, then I am cold as ice, Ogni donna cangiar di colore, Every woman makes me blush, Ogni donna mi fa palpitar. Every woman makes me tremble. - 13 - Solo ai nomi d'amor, di diletto, Simply the name of love, of pleasure, Mi si turba, mi s'altera il petto, Upsets me, it stirs my chest! E a parlare mi sforza d'amore It forces me to speak of love Un desio ch'io non posso spiegar. A desire I can not explain. Non so piu cosa son, cosa faccio, I do not know who I am, or what I’m doing, Or di foco, ora sono di ghiaccio, First I'm on fire, then I am cold as ice, Ogni donna cangiar di colore, Every woman makes me blush, Ogni donna mi fa palpitar. Every woman makes me tremble. Parlo d'amore vegliando, I speak of love while I'm awake, Parlo d'amor sognando, I speak of love while I'm dreaming, All'acqua, all'ombra, ai monti, I speak to water, shade, mountains, Ai fiori, all'erbe, ai fonti, Flowers, grass, fountains, All'eco, all'aria, ai venti, echo, air, and the winds, Che il suon de'vani accenti The sound of my hopeless words Portano via con se. are taken away with them. E se non ho chi m'oda, And if I do not have anyone near to hear me Parlo d'amor con me! I speak of love to myself! An April Day Poetry by Joseph Seamon Cotter, Jr. (1895-1919) On such a day as this I think, On such a day as this, When earth and sky and nature’s world Are clad in April’s bliss; And balmy zephyrs gently waft Upon your cheek a kiss; Sufficient is it just to live On such a day as this. Beside the Sea Poetry by Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906) If you could sit with me beside the sea today And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o’er and o’er I should not find the clouds so dim and gray And not so loud the waves complaining at the shore. If you could sit with me upon the shore today, And hold my hand in yours as in the days of old, I think I should not mind the chill baptismal spray, Nor find my hand and heart and all the world so cold, so cold! - 14 - If you could walk with me upon the strand today Abd tell me that my longing love had won thine own I think all my sad thoughts would then be put away And I could give back laughter for the oceans moan. The Heart of a Woman Poetry by Georgia Douglas Johnson (1880-1966) The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn, As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on, Afar o’er life’s turrets and vales does it roam In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home. The heart of a woman falls back with the night, And enters some alien cage in its plight, And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars. Night Poetry by Louise C. Wallace (unknown) Night comes, a Madonna clad in scented blue. Rose red her mouth and deep her eyes, She lights her stars, and turns to where, Beneath her silver lamp the moon, Upon a couch of shadow lies A dreamy child, The wearied Day. We Have Tomorrow Poetry by Langston Hughes (1902-1967) We have tomorrow Bright before us Like a flame. Yesterday A night-gone thing, A sun-down name. And dawn-today Broad arch above the road we came. - 15 - - 16 -
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