“Program note —Celeste Marie Johnson
Growing up in rural southeast Minnesota, Evan and I developed a deep connection to the natural world that continues to shape our life paths and artistry. There is both a strong pull northward—to mountains, snow, seasons—and a draw toward warmer climates near the ocean. Similarly, from a reserved and understated Scandinavian background, we fell in love with the fervor and spectacle of opera (especially Italian opera). This program reflects those dichotomies and the interconnection between them; after all, temperate mist can hang heavy and grey, and the sun is often at its brightest when reflected by a blanket of snow.”
LAND ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Though we have arrived here in a multiplicity of ways, we recognize our occupation on land that is of great historical, spiritual, and cultural significance to Dakota people. We also acknowledge the past and present harm done to Dakota, Anishinaabe, and other Indigenous nations through the systematic forced removal of communities and the unjust seizure of their lands. We urge you to join us in reflecting on our place in these histories and rectifying the erasure of indigenous peoples in our artform.
Program order
Norden
Hennes budskap
Morgonen
Fågelfängaren
Sommarnatten
Illale
Nel giardino
Contrasto
Notte
Luce
Nebbie
Вчерашняя ночь была так
светла
Я тебе ничего не скажу
О, если б знали вы
Соловей
Простые слова
Inno a Diana Terra e mare
E l’uccellino
Sole e amore
Canto d’anime
Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)
Ottorino Respighi (1879 - 1936)
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Giacomo Puccini (1858 - 1924)
Meet the artists
CELESTE MARIE JOHNSON , Piano
Celeste Marie Johnson is a pianist, coach, chorus director, and educator dedicated to exploring the compelling intersection of music and text in vocal repertoire. Currently the Principal Coach and Chorus Director at Minnesota Opera, she has also held music staff positions at the Lakes Area Music Festival, Opera Saratoga, the Boston University Opera Institute, Odyssey Opera, Inland Northwest Opera, and the Hawai’i Performing Arts Festival. As a recital partner, Celeste has performed with Schubert Club, LOFT Recital, SongFest, and Renée Fleming’s Song Studio at Carnegie Hall.
Celeste received her BM from Baylor University, MM from The Peabody Institute of the Johns Hopkins University, and DMA from Boston University. Passionate about holistic wellbeing for artists, she became a Certified Professional Coach through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching in 2021. Celeste loves spending time with her husband Keith, son Luka, and cat Pushkin, as well as yoga, hiking, cooking, and reading.
EVAN LEROY JOHNSON , Tenor
American tenor Evan LeRoy Johnson began the 24/25 season with a hometown debut at Minnesota Opera in Romeo and Juliet (Romeo) followed by returns to San Francisco Opera for La bohème (Rodolfo), National Theatre in Prague for Medea (Giasone), and a debut with the Canadian Opera Company in Eugene Onegin (Lenski). Future seasons include debuts with The Metropolitan Opera and Lyric Opera of Chicago along with a return to the National Theatre in Prague.
Recent career highlights include Evan’s debuts at the National Theatre in Prague for Rusalka (Prince), San Francisco Opera for Eugene Onegin (Lenski), Oper Frankfurt in Barrie Kosky’s production of Carmen (Don José), Royal Danish Opera for Madama Butterfly (Pinkerton), The Dallas Opera for Madama Butterfly (Pinkerton), Lyric Opera of Kansas City for Lucia di Lammermoor (Edgardo), and Verdi Messa di Requiem with Opera Philadelphia with returns to Glyndebourne Festival and BBC Proms for Carmen (Don José).
Songs of Sun and Snow: Texts and Translations
NORDEN
Löfven de falla, Sjöarna frysa...
Flyttande svanar,
Seglen, o seglen
Sorgsna till södern, Söken dess nödspis,
Längtande åter;
Plöjen dess sjöar, Saknande våra!
Då skall ett öga
Se er från palmens
Skugga och tala:
“Tynande Svanar, Hvilken förtrollning
Hvilar på norden?
Den som från södern
Längtar, hans längtan
Söker en himmel.”
—Johan Ludvig Runeberg
HENNES BUDSKAP
Kom, du sorgsna nordan;
Varje gång du kommer,
Bär du bud från henne.
Kommer du i fläkten, Bär du hennes suckar;
Kommer du i ilen,
Bär du hennes klagan;
Kommer du i stormen, Bär du hennes verop:
“Ve mig, edsförgätna.
Ve mig, ensam blifna!
Ur den gamles armar, Från hans kalla kyssar,
O, vem för mig åter
Till min varma yngling, Till min första kärlek!”
—Johan Ludvig Runeberg
THE NORTH
The leaves are falling
The lakes freeze over
Migrating swans
Glide, how they glide
Sorrowfully to the south,
To seek refuge, Impatient to return; They plough the lakes
Longing for ours!
There, a beady eye
Will spot you
From the shadow of a palm tree and say:
“O melancholic swans, What sort of magic
Enchants the North?
He who comes from the South
Has a yearning; he yearns
To find paradise.”
—trans. David McCleery
HER MESSAGE
Come, you sad north wind; Every time you come, You bear a message from her. [When] you come as a puff of air: You bear her sighs; [When] you come as a gust: You bear her moans; [When] you come as a storm: You bear her lamentations: “Woe to me, [your] oath forgotten. Woe to me, all alone!
From the old man’s arms, From his cold kisses, Oh, who will bring me back
To my passionate young man, To my first love!”
—trans. Laura Prichard
MORGONEN
Solen några purpurdroppar
Ren på österns skyar stänkt, Och på buskar, blad och knoppar
Daggens pärleskur sig sänkt.
Skogens alla fåglar svinga
Jublande från topp till topp, Tusen glädjeljud förklinga, Tusen stämmas åter opp.
Fjärden krusas, böljan randas. Lunden rörs av fläkt på fläkt, Liv och blomster dofter blandas I varenda andedräkt.
Ängel från det fjärran höga, Varje väsens blida vän, Gryning! har ett mulnat öga
Mött din ljusa anblick än?
Skingrad är bekymrens dimma, Tankens dystra moln förgått; Dagen i sin barndoms-timma Älskar barndoms-känslor blott.
Ingen lider, ingen saknar:
Allt är glädje, frid och hopp.
Med naturens morgon vaknar
Varje hjärtas morgon opp.
—Johan Ludvig Runeberg
THE MORNING
The sun has sprinkled a few purple drops Into the pure eastern sky, And on bushes, leaf, and buds The day’s pearls have dropped.
The birds of the forest soar
In celebration from treetop to treetop, A thousand glad sounds fade away, A thousand voices rise once more.
The sound ripples, the wave crests. The grove is stirred by gust after gust, Life and fragrance mix
In every breath.
Angel from the far away heights, Every spirit’s gentle friend, Dawn! Has your bright view Become overcast yet?
Dissolved is the worrying fog, The gloomy clouds of thought are forgotten; The day in its infancy
Only loves childlike feelings.
No one suffers, no one yearns: All is gladness, peace, and hope. With nature’s awakening, wakes up Every heart each morning.
—trans. Laura Prichard
FÅGELFÄNGAREN
Jag vandrar fram på skogens ban, Och blickar upp i tall och gran, Och ofta nog jag fåglar ser, Men ingen flyger ner.
Och var och en tycks fly den stråt,
Där jag har utsatt mitt försåt, Och lika tomhänt, som jag kom,
Jag måste vända om.
Jag borde se med sorg och ångst
På min bedragna fågelfångst,
Men huru felt det än må slå, Är jag förnöjd ändå.
Jag har en snara kvar till slut, Som aldrig lämnats tom förut,
Dit fågeln lika gärna går, Som jag densamma får.
Och när jag kommer hem igen,
Jag gillrar än i afton den,
Och flicka lyder fågelns namn, Och snaran är min famn.
—Johan Ludvig Runeberg
THE BIRDCATCHER
I wander along the paths of the forest, And glance up into the pines and firs, And often enough I see birds, But none fly near me.
And each one seems to shun the path Where I have set out my snare, And equally empty-handed, as [when] I came, I must turn back.
I should look with sorrow and angst Upon my being cheated out of catching a bird, But however wrong it may be, I’m nevertheless content.
I have one snare left to finish the job, Which has never been left empty before, Where the bird is as likely to go, As would I [to catch it].
And when I come home again, I set [the snare] at night, And “flicka” is the bird’s name, And the snare is my bosom.
—trans. Laura Prichard
SOMMARNATTEN
På den lugna skogssjöns vatten
Satt jag hela sommarnatten, Och för böljans tropp, ur båten, Slängde tanklös ut försåten.
Men en talltrast sjöng på stranden, Att han kunnat mista anden, Tills jag halvt förtörnad sade:
“Bättre, om din näbb du lade
SUMMER NIGHT
Upon the calm forest-lake’s surface I floated the whole summer night, And over the troop of waves, from the boat, I dangled my bait, devoid of thought. But a thrush sang from the shore, As if he could lose himself, Until I, half-despondent, said: “Better to hide your beak
Under vingen, och till dagen
Sparde tonerna och slagen.”
Men den djärve hördes svara: “Gosse, låt ditt metspö vara.
Såg du opp kring land och vatten, Kanske sjöng du själv om natten.”
Och jag lyfte upp mitt öga,
Ljus var jorden, ljust det höga,
Och från himlen, stranden, vågen
Kom min flicka mig i hågen.
Och, som fågeln spått i lunden,
Sjöng jag denna sång på stunden.
—Johan Ludvig Runeberg
ILLALE
Oi, terve! tumma, vieno tähti-ilta, Sun haaveellista hartauttas lemmin
Ja suortuvaisi yötä sorjaa hemmin, Mi hulmuaapi kulmais kuulamilta.
Kun oisit, ilta, oi, se tenhosilta, Mi sielun multa siirtäis lentoisammin Pois aatteen maille itse kun ma emmin,
Ja siip’ ei kanna aineen kahlehilta!
Ja itse oisin miekkoinen se päivä, Mi uupuneena saisin luokses liitää,
Kun tauonnut on työ ja puuha räivä,
Kun mustasiipi yö jo silmään siitää
Ja laaksot, vuoret verhoo harmaa
häivä -
Oi, ilta armas, silloin luokses kiitää!.
—Aukusti Valdemar Forsman-Koskimies
Under your wing, and until morning
Save your tones and rhythms.”
But the bold voice was heard in answer: “Boy, let your fishing rod be.
If you really looked at the land and water, You’d probably sing at night too.”
And I lifted up my eyes, Earth was full of light, the heavens were bright, And from the sky, the shore, the waves, My girl appeared in my mind.
And, as the bird in the grove had for foretold, I burst into song at that moment.
—trans. Laura Prichard
TO EVENING
Welcome, dark, mild and starry evening! Your gentle fervour I adore and caress the dark tresses that flutter round your brow.
If only you were the magic bridge that would rap my soul away to the land of idylls (though I waver and my wings are earthbound)!
And if I myself were the happy day that, overcome with weariness, might join you when work is over and duty done, when night unfolds its black wings and a grey curtain falls over hill and dale,
O evening, how I would hurry to you! —trans. Jeremy Parsons
NEL GIARDINO
Mormora nel giardino a piè del colle
Una musica dolce, un’armonia
Di note gravi ne la sera pia,
Mentre l’effluvio de le pie corolle
Sommessamente in lievi onde,
In lievi onde si estolle,
Balsamando di se tutta la via.
Muore nel cielo e palpita una stria
Ultima d’oro; e su da l’erba molle
I mille trilli tremano dal lago,
Dove l’acqua specchiante
Abbrividisce tacita al suono
Vanescente e vago di quella
Triste musica di sera...
Il giardino nel sonno illanguidisce
Voluttuoso de la primavera.
—Franceso Rocchi
CONTRASTO
Piange lenta la luna su rugiade gemmanti...
Or lieto all’aria bruna sia l’oblio de li amanti
però che dolce è il riso tra il pianto de le cose!
Ben la luna compose a mestizia il viso.
O amica, a quando a quando giova l’oblio: scordare le altrui doglianze amare.
Intorno andar cantando, mentre piange la luna.
—Carlo Zangarini
IN THE GARDEN
The garden murmurs at the foot of the hill
A sweet music, a harmony
Of long notes in the pious evening, While the scent of the devout flower
Softly in gentle waves,
In mirrored waves lifts itself,
Perfuming himself his whole life.
[The sun] dies in the sky and beats
A final trail of gold; and from the grass
A thousand trills spring from the lake, Where the reflected water
Shudders without making a sound
Evanescent and vague like that
Sad music of the evening… The garden in sleep languishes
Voluptuously in the spring.
—trans. Laura Prichard
CONTRAST
The moon slowly weeps on the glistening dew...
But glad of the darkness the lovers however, in their oblivion, how sweetly they smile through its tears!
How well the moon
illuminates your melancholy face. O friend, from time to time make use of oblivion, to forget the other hardships of love.
Go around singing, while the moon weeps.
—trans. Anne Evans
NOTTE
Sul giardino fantastico
Profumato di rosa
La carezza de l’ombra
Posa.
Pure ha un pensiero e un palpito
La quiete suprema, L’aria come per brivido
Trema.
La luttuosa tenebra
Una storia di morte
Racconta alle cardenie
Smorte?
Forse perché una pioggia
Di soavi rugiade
Entro socchiusi petali
Cade,
Su l’ascose miserie
E su l’ebbrezze perdute,
Sui muti sogni e l’ansie
Mute.
Su le fugaci gioie
Che il disinganno infrange
La notte le sue lacrime
Piange...
—Ada Negri
NIGHT
On the fantastic garden
Perfumed by rose
The caress of a shadowRests.
Nevertheless having a thought and a pulse
Supreme quiet, The air, as if shiveringTrembles.
Does the mournful darkness
A story of death
Tell to the gardeniasSo pale?
Maybe it’s because a torrent
Of delicate dewdrops Into half-closed petalsFalls,
On concealed troubles
And on once intoxicating losses, On voiceless dreams and anxietiesMute.
Over the fleeting joys
That disappointment smashes
Night, her tearsWeeps...
—trans. Laura Prichard
LUCE
A fasci s’effonde
Per l’aria tranquilla,
Colora, sfavilla,
La mite frescura
Del verde ravviva, S’ingemma giuliva
Per terra e per ciel,
Vittoriosa, calda e senza vel.
Son perle iridate
Danzanti nell’onde,
Son nozze di bionde
Farfalle e di rose,
La vita pagana
Dolcissima emana
Dai baci dei fior...
Il mondo esulta e tutto grida:
Amor!...
Mi sento nell’alma
La speme fluire,
L’immenso gioire
Di vivere sento,
Qual schiera di rondini
I sogni ridenti
Fra i raggi lucenti
Si librano a vol...
Son milionaria del genio e del sol!...
—Ada Negri
LIGHT
It pours out in bundles
Through the still air,
It colors, it sparkles,
The mild coolness
Of green it revives,
It swells with joy
By earth and sky,
Victorious, warm and unveiled.
They are iridescent pearls
Dancing in the waves,
A wedding of blondes
Butterflies and roses,
The pagan life
Sweetly emanates
From kisses of flowers…
The world exults and cries out: Amor!...
I feel in my soul
The spread of hope
The immense rejoicing
Of feeling alive
A host of swallows
As in a joyous dream
Among the shining rays
Liberate themselves to soar…
I am rich in brilliance and in sun!...
—trans. Mario Antonio Marra
NEBBIE
Soffro, lontan lontano
Le nebbie sonnolente
Salgono dal tacente Piano.
Alto gracchiando, i corvi, Fidati all’ali nere, Traversan le brughiere Torvi.
Dell’aere ai morsi crudi
Gli addolorati tronchi
Offron, pregando, i bronchi Nudi.
Come ho freddo!... Son sola;
Pel grigio ciel sospinto
Un gemito destinto Vola;
E mi ripete: Vieni,
È buia la vallata.
O triste, o disamata, Vieni!
—Ada Negri
MISTS
I suffer. Far, far away the sleeping mists rise from the silent plain.
Shrilly cawing, the crows, trusting their black wings cross the heath grimly.
To the raw weathering of the air the sorrowful tree trunks offer, praying, their bare branches.
How cold am I! I am alone; driven through the gray sky a wail of extinction flies;
And repeats to me: come, the valley is dark.
Oh sad, oh unloved one, Come! Come!
—trans. Thomas A. Greggs
ВЧЕРАШНЯЯ
Вчерашняя ночь была так светла.
Вчерашняя ночь всё звёзды зажгла
так ясно,
Что, глядя на холмы и дремлющий
лес,
На воды, блестящие блеском небес,
Я думал: о, жить в этом мире чудес
прекрасно!
Прекрасны и волны и даль степей,
Прекрасна в одежде зелёных ветвей
дубрава;
Прекрасна любовь с вечно свежим
венком,
И дружбы звезда с неизменным
лучом,
И песен восторг с озарённым челом, и слава!
Взглянул я на небо, там твердь ясна;
Высоко, высоко восходит она над
бездной;
Там звёзды живые катятся в огне...
И детское чувство проснулось во
мне;
И думал я: лучше нам в той тишине
надзвёздной!
—Aleksey Khomyakov
LAST NIGHT WAS SO BRIGHT
Last night was so bright, Last night lit up all the stars, so clearly,
That, gazing at the hills and dreaming forest,
At the waters, shimmering under the bright sky,
I thought: oh, to live in this world of wonders is beautiful!
Fair are the waves, and the steppe stretching far, Fair in its garment of green branches is the oak wood; Fair is love, its crown ever fresh.
And friendship’s star with unchanging light,
And the bright face of songs of joy, and glory!
I looked up at heaven, the sky was clear:
High, so high it rises above the abyss;
There living stars roll in fire…
And a childhood feeling awoke in me, And I thought: it’s better for us there in that height
Above the stars!
—trans. Richard D. Sylvester
тебе ничего не скажу
тебя не встревожу ничуть, и о том, что я молча твержу,
решусь ни за что намекнуть. Целый день спят ночные цветы, но, лишь солнце за рощу зайдёт, раскрываются тихо листы, и я слышу, как сердце цветёт...
И в больную, усталую грудь
влагой ночной... Я дрожу... Я тебя не встревожу ничуть, я тебе ничего не скажу!
—Afanasy Fet
I WON’T SAY ANYTHING TO YOU I won’t say anything to you, I won’t alarm you in any way, And, what I silently repeat to myself, I wouldn’t mention even with a hint.
Nocturnal flowers sleep all day, But when the sun has set behind the grove, Their leaves open quietly, And I can feel my heart flowering.
And into my sick, weary breast Comes a moist breath of night air… I tremble, I won’t alarm you in any way, I won’t say anything to you!
—trans. Richard D. Sylvester
О, ЕСЛИ Б ЗНАЛИ ВЫ
О, если б знали вы, как много слёз
незримых
Тот льёт, кто одинок, без друга и
семьи, -
Вы, может быть, порой прошли бы
мимо
Жилища, где влачатся дни мои.
О, если б знали вы, что сердце,
полном тайной
Печали, чистый взор способен
зародить, --
В моё окно порой, как бы случайно,
Вы, проходя, взглянули, может быть.
О, если б знали вы, как сердцу
счастья много
Дарит другого сердца близость, -
отдохнуть
У моего вы сели бы порога,
Как добрая сестра, когда-нибудь.
О, если б знали вы, что я люблю вас,
знали,
Как глубоко люблю, каким святым
огнём
Вы с давних пор мне душу согревали, Вы, может быть, может быть, ко мне
вошли бы в дом!
—Aleksey Pleshcheyev
OH, IF ONLY YOU KNEW
Oh, if you only knew, how many unseen tears
Are shed by one alone, without a friend or family, —
You, perhaps, some time, would pass
The dwelling where my days are spent.
Oh, if you only knew, what in a heart full of hidden
Sorrow, a pure gaze can bring to life, —
Into my window, some time, perhaps by chance
You, passing by, would glance my way.
Oh, if you only knew, how much happiness one heart
Finds in the gift of another heart’s proximity, —
You might sit down at my doorstep to rest,
Like a kind sister, some day.
Oh, if you only knew, that I love you, knew,
How deeply I love, with what sacred fire
You’ve long been warming my soul, — You would perhaps, perhaps, come into my house!
—trans. Richard D. Sylvester
СОЛОВЕЙ
Соловей мой, соловейко!
Птица малая, лесная!
У тебя ль, у малой птицы,
Незаменные три песни,
У меня ли, у молодца,
Три великие заботы!
Как уж первая забота
Рано молодца женили;
А вторая-то забота —
Ворон конь мой притомился;
Как уж третья-то забота —
Красну-девицу со мною
Разлучили злые люди.
Вы копайте мне могилу
Во поле, поле широком,
В головах мне посадите
Алы цветики-цветочки,
А в ногах мне проведите
Чисту воду ключевую.
Пройдут мимо красны девки,
Так сплетут себе веночки:
Пройдут мимо стары люди,
Так воды себе зачёрпнут.
—Aleksandr Pushkin
NIGHTINGALE
Nightingale, my little nightingale!
Small bird, forest bird!
You have, little bird,
Three unchanging songs, I have, brave lad, Three great cares!
The first care is this —
Too early was I married; The second care is this —
My raven-black steed is weary; And the third care is this —
My fair lass and I
Were separated by evil folk.
Dig me a grave
In the field, the wide field, At my head plant
Bright red flowers, At my feet let flow
Pure spring water.
When fair girls pass by, Let them weave themselves garlands; When old folks pass by, Let them take a drink of water.
—trans. Richard D. Sylvester
ПРОСТЫЕ
Ты - звезда на полночном небе, ты - весенний цветок полей;
ты - рубин иль алмаз блестящий,
ты - луч солнца, во тьме светящий, чаровница и царица красоты!
Так по струнам бряцая лирным, тьмы певцов о тебе поют. Славы нектар тобой изведан, мне ж дар песен от бога не дан,
я простые скажу слова.
Ты - мой друг, ты - моя опора, ты - мне жизнь, ты мне все и всё...
Ты мне воздух и хлеб насущный,
ты - двойник мой единосущный, ты - отрада и услада дней моих!
Пусть, по струнам бряцая лирным, тьмы певцов о тебе поют.``
Славы нектар тобой изведан,
мне ж дар песен от бога не дан,
как сумел, как сумел, так и сказал!
—Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
SIMPLE WORDS
You’re a star in the midnight sky, you’re a spring flower in the fields; you’re a ruby, or a sparkling diamond, you’re a sunbeam shining in the dark, an enchantress and the queen of beauty!
So, plucking the strings of a lyre, myriad poets sing your praises. You have tasted the nectar of glory, but God did not give me the gift of poetry, I will say it in simple words.
You’re my friend, you’re my support, you’re my life, you’re my all and everything…
You are my air and daily bread, you are my consubstantial twin, you are the joy and delight of my days!
So let myriad poets sing of you, plucking the strings of a lyre… You have tasted the nectar of glory; but God did not give me the gift of poetry, as well, as well as I knew how, I have said it!
—trans. Richard D. Sylvester
INNO A DIANA
Gloria a te, se a le notti silenti offri, o Cinzia, i bei raggi all’amor.
Gloria a te, se ai meriggi cocenti
tempri, o Diana, dei forti il valor.
Sui tuoi baldi e fedeli seguaci
veglia sempre con l’occhio divin;
tu li guida alle imprese più audaci,
li sorreggi nell’aspro cammin.
Dalle vette dell’Alpe nevose fino ai lidi del siculo mar; per i campi e le selve più ombrose,
dove amavi le fiere incontrar;
sovra i laghi, ove baciano l’onda
le corolle di candidi fior, giunga a te, come un’eco gioconda,
questo fervido canto d’amor!
—Fausto Salvatori
HYMN TO DIANA
Glory to you, when in the silent nights you offer, O Cynthia, the beautiful rays of love.
Glory to you, when in the hot afternoon you strengthen, o Diana, the valor of the brave.
Over your fearless and faithful followers always watch over with your divine eye; guide them to the most audacious undertakings, sustain them on the rough path. From the peaks of the snowy Alps to the shores of the Sicilian sea; through the fields and the most shady woods, where you loved to encounter the wild [animals]; over the lakes, where kissing the waves [are found] the petals of white flowers, [may this] reach you, like a jocund echo, this fervent song of love!
—trans. Laura Prichard
TERRA E MARE
I pioppi, curvati dal vento rimugghiano in lungo filare.
Dal buio, tra il sonno, li sento e sogno la voce del mare.
E sogno la voce profonda dai placidi ritmi possenti; mi guardan, specchiate dall’onda, le stelle del cielo fulgenti.
Ma il vento più forte tempesta de’ pioppi nel lungo filare.
Dal sonno giocondo mi desta...
Lontana è la voce del mare!
—Enrico Panzacchi
E L’UCCELLINO
E l’uccellino canta sulla fronda:
“Dormi tranquillo, boccuccia d’amore: Piegala giù quella testina bionda,
Della tua mamma posala sul cuore.”
E l’uccellino canta su quel ramo:
“Tante cosine belle imparerai,
Ma se vorrai conoscer quant’io t’amo,
Nessuno al mondo potrà dirlo mai!”
E l’uccellino canta al ciel sereno:
“Dormi, tesoro mio, qui sul mio seno.”
—Renato Fucini
LAND AND SEA
The poplars, bent by the wind roar again in long rows.
In the dark, half asleep I hear them and dream of the voice of the sea.
And I dream of the deep voice with its calm and mighty rhythms, the stars in the sparkling firmament, gaze at me reflected in the waves.
But the wind rages louder through the long row of poplars and wakes me from my joyful sleep ... Distant now is the voice of the sea!
—trans. Anne Evans
AND THE LITTLE BIRD
And the little bird sings on the branch:
“Sleep calmly, Boccuccia my love: Rest your little, blond head on your mother’s heart.”
And the little bird sings on that branch:
“You will learn so many beautiful things,
But if you want to know how much I love you, No-one in the world can ever tell you!”
And the bird sings to the serene sky: “Sleep, my treasure, here on my breast.”
—trans. Farrell Cleary
SOLE E AMORE
Il sole allegramente
Batte ai tuoi vetri. Amor 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!
—Anonymous
CANTO D’ANIME
Fuggon gli anni gli inganni e le chimere
Cadon recisi i fiori e le speranze
In vane e tormentose disianze
Svaniscon le mie brevi primavere.
Ma vive e canta ancora forte e solo
Nelle notti del cuore un ideale
Siccome in alta notte siderale
Inneggia solitario l’usignolo.
Canta, canta ideal tu solo forte
E dalle brume audace eleva il vol lassù,
A sfidar l’oblio l’odio la morte
Dove non son tenèbre e tutto è sol!
Tutto è sol! Tutto è sol!
—Renato Fucini
THE SUN AND LOVE
The sun joyfully
Taps at your windows. Love
Softly taps at your heart, And so the one and the other call to you.
The sun says: Oh sleeper, Show yourself, since you’re so beautiful.
Love says: Sister, With your first thought, think of he who loves you!
—trans. Laura Prichard
SONG OF THE SOULS
They flee: the years, the betrayals, the foolish thoughts
Cut short are flowers and hopes
In vain and tormented desires
My brief years take flight.
But something lives and sings again, strong, by itself
In the heart of night: one ideal
Just as through deep, cold nights
The solitary nightingale sings.
Sing, sing this ideal in a loud solo And from the mist audaciously rise above,
To defy oblivion, hate, death, Where there is no more darkness, and all is sun!
All is sun! All is sun!
—trans. Laura Prichard
MNOP+ throughout the 2024–2025 season:
7PM | LUMINARY ARTS CENTER
700 N. 1ST ST, MINNEAPOLIS, MN
Wednesday, December 18, 2024
An Evening of Russian and American Songs with David Leigh and Mario Antonio Marra
David Leigh (bass) and Mario Antonio
Marra (MN Opera Head of Music) will perform an evening of Russian and American song.
Thursday, February 27, 2025
Notte Napulitano with Mario Antonio Marra and Resident Artists
MN Opera Resident Artists will perform in a unique evening of Neapolitan music.
Friday, February 28, 2025
Nymphs, Spinners, & Witches: The Magical Feminine in Opera | An Evening with the MN Opera Chorus
Twenty-four talented soprano and alto artists of our MN Opera Chorus will perform an eclectic concert of scenes from Rusalka, Cendrillon, Macbeth, and more, alongside works by Nadia Boulanger and Libby Larsen, interspersed with narration, prose, and poetry.
Saturday, March 1, 2025
Warm Embrace: Songs to Escape the Cold with Ann Toomey and Joseph Li
Take refuge from the last vestiges of the winter chill with soprano Ann Toomey and pianist Joseph Li in a multi-genre concert of classical, jazz, and more.
Saturday, March 8, 2025
Warren Jones Residency Recital
Warren Jones, one of the great collaborative pianists of our time, will curate a program and perform alongside MN Opera Resident Artists for an intimate evening of song.
Mario Antonio Marra Emily Ezust and The LiederNet Archive MacPhail Center for Music ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Coming up at the Ordway:
The Barber of Seville MAY 3–18, 2025
Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough.
Music: Gioachino Rossini
Libretto: Cesare Sterbini
The Snowy Day FEB 8–16, 2025
In the fresh snow, every footstep is marked with magic.
Based on The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats
Music: Joel Thompson
Libretto: Andrea Davis Pinkney
Original production: Omer Ben Seadia
