MOORES SCHOOL OF MUSIC
Bryn Terfel RECITAL
MADISON ARTIST SERIES
Photo | BBCNOW/Jones
M O O R E S O P E R A H O U S E , U N I V E R S I T Y O F H O U S TO N
April 26, 2016, 7:30 p.m.
Bryn Terfel, bass-baritone Natalia Katyukova, piano
April 26, 2016, 7:30 p.m. Moores Opera House, University of Houston
M APDRIOS G ORNAM A R T I S T S E R I E S P R O G R AM Idris Lewis
Can yr Arad Goch
Meirion Williams Owen Williams Meirion Williams
Gwynfyd Sul y Blodau Y Cymro
Frederick Keel
Three Salt-Water Ballads Port of Many Ships Trade Winds Mother Carey
Jacques Ibert
Chansons de Don Quichotte Chanson du Départ de Don Quichotte Chanson à Dulcinée Chanson du Duc Chanson de la mort de Don Quichotte
Bryan Davies
A Medley of Welsh Folksongs Migildi Magaldi Little Welsh Home Dacw Mam yn Dwad Dafydd y Garreg Wen Ar lan y Môr Deryn y Bwn o’r Banna INTERVAL
Robert Schumann
Belsatzar Op. 57 Zwei Venezianische Lieder, from Myrthen, Op. 25 I. Leis’rudern hier, No. 17 II. Wenn durch die Piazzetta, No. 18
Franz Schubert
Gruppe aus dem Tartarus, D.583 Liebesbotschaft, D.957 No. 1* Das Fischermädchen, D.957 No. 10* Auf dem Wasser zu singen, D.774 Die Taubenpost, D.967 No. 14*
* From Schwanenesang, D. 957. Die Taubenpost also carries the designation D.965a. Bryn Terfel appears through arrangement with Harlequin Agency Limited, Cardiff.
Bryn Terfel
, BASS-BARITONE
The Welsh bass-baritone Bryn Terfel has performed in all the great opera houses of the world, and is especially recognized for his portrayals of Figaro, Falstaff and Wotan. He made his operatic début in 1990 as Guglielmo in Così fan tutte for Welsh National Opera. His international operatic career began in 1991 when he sang the Speaker in Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte at the Théâtre de la Monnaie in Brussels, and in the same year he made his United States début as Figaro at the Santa Fe Opera. Other roles performed during his career include Holländer in Der fliegende Holländer, Méphistophélès in Faust, both the Title Role and Leporello in Don Giovanni, Jochanaan in Salome, Scarpia in Tosca, the Title Role in Gianni Schicchi, Nick Shadow in The Rake’s Progress, Wolfram in Tannhäuser, Balstrode in Peter Grimes, Four Villains in Les contes d’Hoffmann, Dulcamara in L’Elisir d’Amore and the Title Role in Sweeney Todd. Mr. Terfel is also known for his versatility as a concert performer with highlights ranging from the opening ceremony of the Wales Millennium Centre, BBC Last Night of the Proms and the Royal Variety Show to a gala concert with Andrea Bocelli in Central Park, New York. He has given recitals in the major cities of the world and for nine years hosted his own festival in Faenol, North Wales. He is a Grammy, Classical Brit and Gramophone Award winner with a discography encompassing operas of Mozart, Wagner and Strauss, and more than fifteen solo discs including Lieder, American musical theatre, Welsh songs and sacred repertory. In 2003, Mr. Terfel received a CBE for his services to Opera and in 2006 was awarded the Queen’s Medal for Music. He is also the last recipient of the Shakespeare Prize by the Alfred Toepfer Foundation, Hamburg.
Highlights in recent years include Mr. Terfel’s debut in the role of Hans Sachs in the critically acclaimed production of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg for Welsh National Opera and his return to La Scala, Milan to open the 2011 season singing Leporello in Don Giovanni and Scarpia in Tosca. Highlights in 2012 included the role of Wotan in Wagner’s Ring Cycle for the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden and the Metropolitan Opera, New York, and hosting a four day festival, Brynfest, at the Southbank Centre, London as part of the Southbank Centre’s Festival of the World. In 2013, Mr. Terfel made his debut in concert at the Abu Dhabi Festival and the Royal Opera House, Muscat and performed with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, New Zealand Symphony Orchestra and returned to the Sydney Opera House in recital. Highlights in 2014 included semi-staged performances of Sweeney Todd at the Lincoln Center, New York and at the Llangollen International Music Festival, and a concert tour of South Africa. In 2015, to mark his 50th birthday and twenty five years in the profession, Mr. Terfel performed in a gala concert at the Royal Albert Hall, London and in a concert performance of Tosca at the Wales Millennium Centre. He was also given The Freedom of the City of London. Operatic highlights in 2015 included his début in the role of Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof for Grange Park Opera, the Title Role in Sweeney Todd for English National Opera and Méphistophélès in Damnation of Faust for Opera de Paris. In 2016 Mr. Terfel will make his debut in the role of Boris Godunov for the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden and will give recitals in North America and concerts at festivals throughout Europe.
Photo | Paul Avis Bryn Terfel, commissioned by the The Times
Natalia Katyukova
, PIANO
One of the highly regarded young collaborators of her generation, Russian pianist Natalia Katyukova is currently working as an assistant conductor at the Metropolitan Opera and coach in the Lindemann Young Development Program. A native of Klin, the city of Tchaikovsky, she has been invited numerous times to play in the House-Museum of Tchaikovsky on the composer’s own piano. Ms. Katyukova has performed with instrumentalists and singers such as Bryn Terfel, Irina Arkhipova, Ildar Abdrazakov, at festivals and summer programs including the Ravinia Festival and Tanglewood Festival and has appeared in recitals throughout the USA, Russia, Germany, Italy, Finland, Japan and other countries. She has been featured as a solo pianist with Vladimir Fedoseev, the “Haydn Orchestra” with Ola Rudner and the Moscow State Symphony led by Dmitry Orlov. Additionally, she previously served the faculties of Texas Wesleyan University, the University of Fine Arts (Russia),
the Conservatory “Monteverdi” (Italy) and the Natchez Opera Festival. She has accompanied for master classes led by artists such as Reneé Fleming, Malcolm Martineau, Sir Thomas Allen, Roger Vignoles, José van Dam, Martin Katz and Warren Jones. Ms. Katyukova has been a recipient of many awards including the Zonta Club Award and a Russian Arts Foundation grant. She is a winner of the MTNA National Piano Competition (USA), the International Piano Competition (Italy), the “Premio Massaza” International Piano Competition (Italy) and the International Chamber Music Competition (Ukraine). Ms. Katyukova’s performances have been broadcast on WFMT Chicago, All-Russian Radio, Radio Bavaria and Radio “South-West,” Germany. A graduate of the Moscow State Conservatory, The Juilliard School and Lindemann Young Artist Development Program, her teachers included Margo Garrett, Jonathan Feldman, Brian Zeger, Ken Noda and Lev Naumov.
T E X T & T R A N S L AT I O N S
Photo | Brian Tarr
Can yr Arad Goch Ceiriog
The Song of the Plough trans. Gwili
Os hoffech wybod sut mae dyn fel fi yn byw, Mi ddysgais gan fy nhad grefft gyntaf dynol ryw. Mi ddysgais wneud y gors yn weirglodd ffrwythlon ir, I godi daear las ar wyneb anial dir.
If ye would know how I take life, and play my part, I from my father learnt the earliest human art. I learnt to make the fen all fruitful meadow land, And how to clothe with green the barren waste of sand.
‘Rwy’n gorwedd efo’r hwyr, Ac yn codi efo’r wawr, ‘Rwy’n gorwedd efo’r hwyr, Ac yn codi efo’r wawr, I ddilyn yn ôg ar ochr y glôg, A chanlyn yr arad goch ar ben y mynydd mawr.
At evening I lie down, And awake with morning’s light, At evening I lie down, And awake with morning’s light, To follow the share on hillbrows all bare, And bend to the ruddy plough upon the mountain height.
Cyn boddio ar eich byd, pa grefftwyr bynnag f’och, Chwi ddylech ddod am dro rhwng cyrn yr arad goch. A pheidiwch meddwl fod pob pleser a mwynhad Yn aros byth heb ddod i fryniau ucha’r wlad.
Ere once your choice is made, what e’er your craft are now, ‘Twere well you came between the handles of my plough. Nor should you deem it true that all the pure delights Can never reach to us who dwell upon the heights.
‘Rwy’n gorwedd efo’r hwyr, Ac yn codi efo’r wawr, ‘Rwy’n gorwedd efo’r hwyr, Ac yn codi efo’r wawr, I ddilyn yr ôg ar ochr y glôg, A chanlyn yr arad goch ar ben y mynydd mawr.
At evening I lie down, And awake with morning’s light, At evening I lie down, And awake with morning’s light, To follow the share on hillbrows all bare, And bend to the ruddy plough upon the mountains height.
Gwynfyd Crwys
Paradise trans. Meirion Williams
Ei enw yw Paradwys wen, Paradwys wen yw enw’r byd, Ac wylo rwyf o’i golli cyd, A’i geisio hwnt i sêr y nen, A’i geisio hwnt i sêr y nen.
O blessed realm of Paradise, O land of beauty and of peace, My soul too oft in secret cries, And seeks it far beyond the skies, And seeks it far beyond the skies.
Nid draw ar bell-bell draeth y mae, Nac obry ‘ngwely’r perlau chwaith, Ond mil-mil nes a ber yw’r daith I ddistaw byrth y byd di-wae.
Not found upon some far-off strand, Nor yet within the pearly deep, But nearer far, in mine own hand I hold the key to that fair land.
Tawelach yw na’r dyfnaf hun, Agosach yw na throthwy’r drws, Fel pêrwelyau’r rhos o dlws, Ar allwedd yn fy llaw fy hun, Ar allwedd yn fy llaw fy hun.
More peaceful than the deepest sleep, Within my heart for e’er to keep, Like roses fair before mine eyes, O lovely land of Paradise, O blessed, blessed Paradise.
Sul y Blodau Eifion Wyn
Palm Sunday trans. J.W. Wynne-Jones
Tan y garreg las a’r blodau, Cysga berl dy fam; Gwybod mae dy dad a minnau Na dderbyni gam: Gwn nad oes un beddrod bychan Heb ei Angel gwyn; Cwsg fy mhlentyn yma’th hunan Cwsg Goronwy Wyn.
Where the flow’rs and Greystone hide thee Sleep my pearl below That no harm shall e’er betide thee I and father know Little graves are never lonely Angels guard their kin Sleep my child thyself there only Sleep Goronwy Wyn.
Cofio’r wy, pan oeddit gartre’n Cygsu gyda ni, Rhwystro flynnwn blant y pentre Rhag dy darfu di: Ond boddlonwn iddynt heno, Gyda’u miri iach, Pe bai obaith iddynt ddeffro Fy Ngoronwy bach.
Well I mind when thou wert sleeping In our home with me Village boys I’d fain be keeping From disturbing thee: Would tonight our rest were shaken By their mirthful din If ah! If they could awaken Thee Goronwy Wyn.
Tan y garreg las GoronwyCysga beth yn hwy: Rhaid yw dweud “Nos da” Goronwy, Mynd a’th ado’r wy: Nid oes eisiau llaw i’th siglo Yn dy newydd grud; Cwsg nes gweld ein gilydd eto, Cwsg a gwyn dy fyd. Cwsg, Cwsg, Cwsg Goronwy Wyn.
Under that Greystone Goronwy Slumber yet a while I must say Goodnight Goronwy Leaving thee alone Stange that cradle hand of mother Need not rock thee now Sleep until we meet each other Sleep and blest be thou. Sleep, Sleep, Sleep Goronwy Wyn.
Y Cymro Glan Padarn
The Welshman trans. Sioned Jones
Mae gan y Cymro galon I garu Cymru lon, Mae’i serch fel anniffoddol fflam Yn gylch o amgylch hon; Os yw ymhlith estroniaid Sy’n gwatwar iaith ei wlad, Cynheua fflam ei serch yn fwy At iaith ei fam a’i dad.
The Welshman has the heart To love his country fair His love is like a burning flame Ablaze encircling her. And if he’s amongst strangers Who mock his mother tongue, His love will burn still brighter, for His native land of song.
Mae gan y Cymro galon I ganfod y tylawd, A chynorthwyol fraich i’w ddwyn O bwll annedwydd ffawd; Mae deigryn yn ei lygaid, Elusen yn ei law, Pan wêl gardotes fach dylawd Yn droednoeth yn y glaw.
The Welshman has the heart To recognize the poor, He lends a strong arm, leading him From sorrow’s darkened door. In his eyes are teardrops, And goodwill in his vein, When he sees a poor young vagrant-girl Out barefoot in the rain.
Mae gan y Cymro dalent A synnwyr lond ei ben, I wneud paradwys cyn bo hir O’n hannwyl Walia Wen; Ac os dyrchefir gwledydd Gan rinwedd, dysg a dawn, Ceir gweld hen Gymru a Chymraeg Yn uchel, uchel iawn.
The Welshman has the talent And wisdom in his mind To build a dreamland before long Of Wales so dear and kind; And should realms be promoted Through learning and by flair, We’ll see our old beloved Wales Soaring, high up there.
Three Salt-Water Ballads John Masefield 1. Port of Many Ships It’s a sunny pleasant anchorage, is kingdom come, Where crews is always layin’ aft, for double tots o’ rum, ‘N’ there’s dancin’ ‘n’ there’s fiddlin’ of every kind o’sort, It’s a fine place for sailormen is that there port ‘N’ I wish, I wish as I was there. The winds is never nothin’ more than jest light airs ‘N’ no one gets belayin’ pinn’d, n’ no one never swears, Yer free to loaf ‘n’ laze around, yer pipe atween yer lips, Lollin’ on the fo’c’sle, sonny, lookin’ at the ships. ‘N’ I wish, I wish as I was there. For ridin’ in the anchorage the ships of all the world Have got one anchor down ‘n’ all sails furl’d. All the sunken hookers ‘n’ the crews as took ‘n’ died They lays there merry, sonny, swingin’ to the tide ‘N’ I wish, I wish as I was there. Drown’d old wooden hookers green wi’ drippin’ wrack, Ships as never fetch’s to port, as never came back, Swingin’ to the blushin’ tide, dippin’ to the swell, N’ the crews all singin’, sonny, beatin’ on the bell ‘N’ I wish, I wish as I was there. 2. Trade Winds In the harbour, in the island, in the Spanish Seas, Are the tiny white houses and the orange trees, And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze Of the steady Trade Winds blowing. There is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale, The shuffle of the dancers, and the old salt’s tale, The squeaking fiddle, and the soughing in the sail Of the steady Trade Winds blowing. And o’ nights there’s the fire-flies and the yellow moon, And in the ghostly palm trees the sleepy tune Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.
3. Mother Carey Mother Carey? She’s the mother of the witches And all them sort o’ rips; She’s a fine gell to look at, but the hitch is, She’s a sight too fond of ships; She lives upon an iceberg to the norred, ‘N’ her man he’s Davy Jones, ‘N’ she combs the weeds upon her forred With pore drowned sailors’ bones. She’s the mother o’ the wreeks, ‘n’ the mother Of all big winds as blows; She’s up to some deviltry or other When it storms, or sleets, or snows. The noise of her wind’s her screamin’, I’m arter a plump, young, fine, Brass-button’d, beefy-ribbed young seam’n So as me ‘n’ my mate kin dine. She’s a hungry old rip ‘n’ a cruel For sailor-men like we, She’s give a many mariners the gruel ‘N’ a long sleep under the sea; She’s the blood o’ many a crew upon her ‘N’ the bones of many a wreck; ‘N’ she’s barnacles a-growing on her ‘N’ shark’s teeth round her neck. I ain’t never had no schoolin’ Nor read no books like you But I know it ain’t healthy to be foolin’ With that there gristly two; You’re young, you thinks, ‘n’ you’re lairy, But if you’re to make old bones, Steer clear, I says, o’ Mother Carey ‘N’ that there Davy Jones.
CHANSONS DE DON QUICHOTTE Pierre de Ronsard
trans. Faith J. Cormier
SONGS OF DON QUICHOTTE
1. Chanson du Départ de Don Quichotte Ce château neuf, ce nouvel édifice Tout enrichi de marbre et de porphyre, Qu’ amour bâtit château de son empire, Où tout le ciel a mis son artifice, Est un rempart un fort contre le vice Où la vertu maîtresse se retire, Que l’oeil regarde et que l’espirit admire, Forçant les coeurs à lui faire service.
1. Song of Don Quixote’s Departure This new castle, this new building, All embellished with marble and porphyry, That Love built as castle of his empire, To which all the sky has lent its guile, Is a rampart, a fortress against vice Where mistress Virtue withdraws herself, That the eye sees and the mind admires Compelling the heart to serve it.
C’est un château fait de telle sorte Que nul ne peut approcher de la porte Si des grands Rois il n’a sauvé sa race, Victorieux, vaillant et amoureux. Nul chevalier tant soit aventureux Sans être tel ne peut gagner la place.
It is a castle so made That nothing can approach its gate. If from great kings he had not saved his race, Victorious, valiant and amorous. No knight can, however adventurous, without so being, win a place.
2. Chanson à Dulcinée Un an, me dure la journée Si je ne vois ma Dulcinée.
2. Song to Dulcinea A day lasts a year If I see not Dulcinea.
Mais Amour a peint son visage, Afin d’adoucir ma langueur, Dans la fontaine et le nuage, Dans chaque aurore et chaque fleur,
So as to sweeten my listlessness But love has portrayed her face In fountains and clouds In every dawn and each flower.
Un an, me dure la journée Si je ne vois ma Dulcinée.
A day lasts a year If I see not Dulcinea.
Toujours proche et toujours lointaine, Etoile de mes longs chemins. Le vent m’apporte son haleine Quand il passe sur les jasmins.
Always near and always far, Star of my long travels. The wind brings me her breath When it passes over jasmins.
Un an, me dure las journée Si je ne vois ma Dulcinée.
A day lasts a year If I see not Dulcinea.
3. Chanson du Duc Je veux chanter ici la Dame de mes songes Qui m’exalte au dessus de ce siècle de boue. Son coeur de diamant est vierge de mensonges, La rose s’obscurcit au regard de sa joue.
3. The Duke’s Song I would sing here the Lady of my dreams Who raises me above this century of mud. Her diamond heart is pure of lies, The rose grows dim beside her cheeks.
Pour Elle, j’ai tenté les hautes aventures, Mon bras a délivré la Princesse en servage, J’ai vaincu l’Enchanteur, confondu les parjures, Et ployé l’univers à lui rendre l’hommage.
For Her, I have risked high adventure, My arm has rescued the Princess in bondage, Vanquishing the Enchanter, I have confounded perjuries, And bent the universe to do her homage.
Dame par qui je vais, seul dessus cette terre, Qui ne soit prisonnier de la fausse apparence, Je soutiens contre tout Chevalier téméraire Votre éclat non pareil et votre précellence.
Lady by whom I go alone above this earth, Who am not a prisoner of false appearances, I uphold against any reckless Knight Your peerless lustre and excellence.
4. Chanson de la Mort de Don Quichotte Ne pleure pas Sancho, Ne pleure pas, mon bon, Ton maître n’est pas mort. Il n’est pas loin de toi Il vit dans une île heureuse oú tout est pur et sans mensonges. Dans l’île enfin trouvée oú tu viendras un jour, Dans l’île désirée, O mon ami Sancho, Les livres sont brulés, Et font un tas de cendres. Si tous les livres m’ont tué, Il suffit d’un pour que je vive, Fantôme dans la vie, Et réel dans la mort, Tel est l’étrange sort du pauvre Don Quichotte
4. Song of the Death of Don Quixote Do not weep Sancho, Do not weep, good fellow, Your master is not dead. He lives on a happy island where all is pure without lies. On the island found at last Where you will come one day, To the island long desired. O my friend Sancho, The books are burned And make a heap of ashes. If all those books killed me, One suffices for me to live, A phantom in life And real in death, Such is the strange fate of poor Don Quixote.
A MEDLEY OF WELSH FOLK SONGS Migildi Magaldi
Migildi Magaldi
Ffeind a difyr ydyw gweled Migildi Magaldi, hey, now, now. Drws yr efail yn agored, Migildi Magildi, hey, now, now. A’r go’bach a’i wyneb purddu, Migildi Magildi, hey, now, now. Yn yr efail yn prysur chwythu, Migaldi Magaldi, hey, now, now.
It’s pleasing to see, Migildi Magildi, hey, now, now The door of the Smithy open Migildi, Magildi, hey, now, now And the blacksmith with his pitted face Migaldi Magaldi, hey, now, now In the Smithy busily blowing Migildi, Magildi, hey, now, now
Little Welsh Home I am dreaming of the mountains of my home Of the mountains where in childhood I would roam; I have dwelt ‘neath Southern skies, where the summer never dies, But my heart is in the mountains of my home. I can see the little homestead on the hill, I can hear the magic music of the rill. There is nothing to compare with the love that once was there, In that lonely little homestead on the hill. I can see the quiet churchyard down below, Where the mountain breezes wander to and fro; And when God my soul will keep, it is there I want to sleep, With those dear old folks that loved me long ago.
Dacw Mam Yn Dwad Dacw mam yn dwad ar gefn y gamfa wen Rhywbeth yn ei ffedog a phiser am ei phen Y fuwch yn y beudy yn brefu am y llo A’r llo’r ochr arall yn chwarae Jim Cro: Jim Cro Crystyn. Wan, tw, ffôr; A’r mochyn bach yn eistedd mor ddel ar y stôl.
Here is mam coming Here comes mother over the white stile Something in her apron and a pitcher on her head The cow is in the cowshed lowing for her calf The calf is on the other side playing Jim Cro: Jim Cro crust, one two four And the piglet is sitting so prettily on the stool
Dafydd y Garreg Wen Cariwch medd Dafydd fy nhelyn i mi, Ceisiaf cyn marw roi tôn arni hi Codwch fy nwylaw i gyrhaedd y tant Duw a’ch bendithio fy ngweddw a’m plant.
David of the White Rock Bring me, said David, my harp once again Lift up my hands that I try a last strain Soon ‘twill be over, oh God I implore Guard though my dear ones when I am no more
Neithiwr mi glywais lais angel fel hyn Dafydd tyrd adref a chwarae’n y glyn Delyn fy mebyd ffarwel i dy dant. Duw a’ch bendithio fy ngweddw a’m plant.
Last night an angel was bidding me Come with thy harp through the valleys of home Harp of my childhood, oh God I implore Bless though my children when I am no more.
Ar lan y Môr Ar lan y môr mae rhosys cochion Ar lan y môr mae lilis gwynion Ar lan y môr mae ‘nghariad innau Yn cysgu’r nos a chodi’r bore.
Upon the Shore Down by the sea are deep red roses Down by the sea are pure white lilies Down by the sea my love is dwelling, And sleeps by night and wakes at morning.
Ar lan y môr mae cerrig gleision Ar lan y môr mae blodau’r meibion Ar lan y môr mae pob rhinweddau Ar lan y môr mae ‘nghariad innau.
Down by the sea are bluish pebbles Down by the sea are silver brambles Down by the sea is truth excelling Down by the sea my love is dwelling
Deryn y Bwn o’r Banna Deryn y Bwn o’r Banna aeth i rodio’r gwylia Lle disgynnodd o ar i ben, ar i ben Bwm bwm, bwm bwm, ond i Bwn o fala.
The Bittern from the Beacons The Bittern from the Beacons went to roam the valley When he fell upon his head, on his head Boom Boom, Boom Boom, into a barrel of apples
Deryn y Bwn a gododd y fala i gyd a gariodd Dros y Banna i farchnad Caer, marchnad Caer, Bwm bwm, bwm, bwm, ac yno’n daer fe’u gwerthodd.
The Bittern picked them up and carried them Across the Beacons to Chester market, to Chester market Boom Boom, Boom Boom, and there he sold them aplenty.
Fala fala filoedd, fala melyn laweroedd: Y plant yn gweiddi am fala’n groch, am fala’n groch Bwm bwm, bwm bwm, rhoi dima goch am gannoedd
Apples in their thousands, yellow apples galore, The children were shouting aloud for the fruit, for the fruit Boom Boom, Boom Boom, they paid for apples in their hundreds.
Deryn y Bwn aeth adra yn ôl dros ben y Banna. Gwaeddai: “Meistres, O gwelwch y pres, gwelwch y pres Bwm bwm, bwm bwm, a ges i wrth werthu fala.
The Bittern went home across the top of the hill He shouted “Mistress look at the money, look at the money Boom Boom, Boom Boom, that I got for selling the apples”
Belsatzar Op. 57 Heinrich Heine
Belsatzar Op. 57 trans. Emily Ezust
Die Mitternacht zog näher schon; In stummer Ruh’ lag Babylon.
Midnight drew nearer already; In mute rest lay Babylon.
Nur oben in des Königs Schloß, Da flackert’s, da lärmt des Königs Troß.
Only above, in the king’s castle, lights are flickering and the king’s retinue makes noise.
Dort oben, in dem Königsaal, Belsatzar hielt sein Königsmahl.
And above, in the king’s hall, Belshazzar holds his royal banquet.
Die Knechte saßen in schimmernden Reihn, Und leerten die Becher mit funkelndem Wein.
The knights sat in shimmering rows, emptying goblets of sparkling wine.
Es klirrten die Becher, es jauchzten die Knecht’; So klang es dem störrigen Könige recht.
The goblets clinked, the knights cheered; and so they made noise for that headstrong king.
Des Königs Wangen leuchten Glut; Im Wein erwuchs ihm kekker Mut.
The king’s cheeks glowed; through wine his courage grew bolder.
Und blindlings reißt der Mut ihn fort; Und er lästert die Gottheit mit sündigem Wort;
And blindly, his courage pulled him forward, and he maligned God with blasphemous words.
Und er brüstet sich frech und lästert wild; Die Knechtenschar ihm Beifall brüllt.
And he boasted impertinently and blasphemed wildly while the crowd of knights bellowed their approval.
Der König rief mit stolzem Blick; Der Diener eilt und kehrt zurück.
The king called with a haughty glance; the servant hurried off and soon came back.
Er trug viel gülden Gerät auf dem Haupt, Das war aus dem Tempel Jehovas geraubt.
He brought back on his head many golden treasures that had been plundered from Jehovah’s Temple.
Und der König ergriff mit frevler Hand Einen heiligen Becher, gefüllt bis am Rand.
And the king grasped with his criminal hand a sacred goblet and filled it to the brim.
Und er leert ihn hastig bis auf den Grund, Und rufet laut mit schäumendem Mund:
And he drained it hastily to the bottom, and then called loudly with foaming mouth:
Jehova! Dir künd’ ich auf ewig Hohn, Ich bin der König von Babylon!
“Jehovah! I proclaim to you my eternal scorn, for I am the king of Babylon!”
Doch kaum das grause Wort verklang, Dem König ward’s Heimlich, heimlich im Busen bang.
But hardly had those terrible words died away, when the king grew secretly fearful in his heart.
Das gellende Lachen verstummte zumal; Es wurde leichenstill im Saal.
The ringing laughter fell silent at once; the hall grew deathly still.
Und sieh! und sieh! an weißer Wand Da kam’s hervor wie Menschenhand;
And behold! behold! on the white wall there appeared something like a human hand;
Und schrieb, und schrieb an weißer Wand Buchstaben von Feuer, und schrieb und schwand.
and it wrote and wrote on the white wall letters of fire; it wrote and disappeared.
Der König stieren Blicks da saß, Mit schlotternden Knien und totenblaß.
The king sat staring there, with knocking knees, pale as death.
Die Knechtenschar saß kalt durchgraut, Und saß gar still, gab keinen Laut.
The crowd of knights sat cold and filled with horror, and sat entirely still, without a sound.
Die Magier kamen, doch keiner verstand Zu deuten die Flammenschrift an der Wand.
Magicians came, but no one could understand and find the meaning of the flaming script on the wall.
Belsazar ward aber in selbiger Nacht Von seinen Knechten umgebracht.
But Belshazzar, that very night, was murdered by his knights.
Zwei Venezianische Lieder Thomas Moore
Two Venetian Airs Thomas Moore
I. Leis’ rudern hier, Mein Gondolier, Leis’, leis’! Die Flut vom Ruder sprühn, So leise laß, Daß sie uns nur vernimmt, Zu der wir ziehn! O könnte, wie er schauen kann, Der Himmel reden traun, Er spräche vieles wohl von dem, Was nachts die Sterne schaun! Leis’ leis’, leis’, leis’!
I. Row gently here, My gondolier, So softly wake the tide, That not an ear, On earth, may hear, But hers to whom we glide. Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well As starry eyes to see, Oh, think what tales ‘twould have to tell Of wand’ring youths like me!
Nun rasten hier, Mein Gondolier, Sacht, sacht! Ins Boot die Ruder! sacht, sacht! Auf zum Balkone schwing’ ich mich, Doch du hältst unten Wacht. O wollten halb so eifrig nur Dem Himmel wir uns weihn, Als schöner Weiber Diensten traun, Wir könnten Engel sein! Sacht, sacht, sacht, sacht!
Now rest thee here, My gondolier; Hush, hush, for up I go, To climb yon light Balcony’s height, While thou keep’st watch below. Ah! did we take for Heaven above But half such pains as we Take, day and night, for woman’s love, What Angels we should be!
II. Wenn durch die Piazzetta Die Abendluft weht, Dann weißt du, Ninetta, Wer wartend hier steht. Du weißt, wer trotz Schleier und Maske dich kennt, Wie Amor die Venus am Nachtfirmament.
II. When through the Piazzetta Night breathes her cool air, Then, dearest Ninetta, I’ll come to thee there. Beneath thy mask shrouded, I’ll know thee afar, As Love knows, though clouded, his own Evening Star.
Ein Schifferkleid trag’ ich Zur selbigen Zeit, Und zitternd dir sag’ ich: Das Boot liegt bereit! O komm, wo den Mond noch Wolken umziehn, Laß durch die Lagunen, mein Leben, uns fliehn!
In garb, then, resembling Some gay gondolier, I’ll whisper thee, trembling, “Our bark, love, is near: Now, now, while there hover those clouds o’er the moon, ‘Twill waft thee safe over you silent Lagoon”.
Liebesbotschaft Ludwig Rellstab
Love’s Message trans. Richard Morris
Rauschendes Bächlein, So silbern und hell, Eilst zur Geliebten So munter und schnell? Ach, trautes Bächlein, Mein Bote sei du; Bringe die Grüße Des Fernen ihr zu.
Murmuring brooklet, So silvery bright, Hurry to my beloved So fast and light, Oh friendly brooklet, Be my messenger fair, Bring my distant greetings to her.
All ihre Blumen, Im Garten gepflegt, Die sie so lieblich Am Busen trägt, Und ihre Rosen In purpurner Glut, Bächlein, erquicke Mit kühlender Flut.
All the flowers She tends in her garden, Which she sweetly Bears on her bosom, And her roses In a purple glow, Brooklet, refresh them With cooling flow.
Wenn sie am Ufer, In Träume versenkt, Meiner gedenkend, Das Köpfchen hängt, Tröste die Süße Mit freundlichem Blick, Denn der Geliebte Kehrt bald zurück.
When on the bank, Immersed in dreams, Remembering me, She hangs her head, Comfort my sweetheart With a friendly glance, For her beloved
Neigt sich die Sonne Mit rötlichem Schein, Wiege das Liebchen In Schlummer ein. Rausche sie murmelnd In süße Ruh, Flüstre ihr Träume Der Liebe zu.
Will soon come back. When the sun sets With reddening glow, Rock my loved one To slumber, Murmur for her Sweet sleep, And whisper dreams Of Love to her.
Das Fischermädchen Henrich Heine
The Fisher Maiden trans. Richard Wigmore
Du schönes Fischermädchen, Treibe den Kahn ans Land; Komm zu mir und setze dich nieder, Wir kosen, Hand in Hand.
Lovely fisher maiden, guide your boat to the shore; come and sit beside me, and hand in hand we shall talk of love.
Leg an mein Herz dein Köpfchen, Und fürchte dich nicht zu sehr; Vertraust du dich doch sorglos Täglich dem wilden Meer.
Lay your little head on my heart and do not be too afraid; for each day you trust yourself without fear to the turbulent sea.
Mein Herz gleicht ganz dem Meere, Hat Sturm und Ebb’ und Flut, Und manche schöne Perle In seiner Teife ruht.
My heart is just like the sea, it has its storms, its ebbs and its flows; and many a lovely pearl rests in its depths.
Auf dem Wasser zu singen Friedrich Leopold, Graf zu Stolberg-Stolberg
In the Middle of the Shimmer of the Reflecting Waves trans. Lynn Thompson
Mitten im Schimmer der spiegelnden Wellen Gleitet, wie Schwäne, der wankende Kahn: Ach, auf der Freude sanftschimmernden Wellen Gleitet die Seele dahin wie der Kahn; Denn von dem Himmel herab auf die Wellen Tanzet das Abendrot rund um den Kahn.
In the middle of the shimmer of the reflecting waves Glides, as swans do, the wavering boat; Ah, on joy’s soft shimmering waves Glides the soul along like the boat; Then from Heaven down onto the waves Dances the sunset all around the boat.
Über den Wipfeln des westlichen Haines Winket uns freundlich der rötliche Schein; Unter den Zweigen des östlichen Haines Säuselt der Kalmus im rötlichen Schein; Freude des Himmels und Ruhe des Haines Atmet die Seel im errötenden Schein.
Over the treetops of the western grove Waves, in a friendly way, the reddish gleam; Under the branches of the eastern grove Murmur the reeds in the reddish light; Joy of Heaven and the peace of the grove Is breathed by the soul in the reddening light.
Ach, es entschwindet mit tauigem Flügel Mir auf den wiegenden Wellen die Zeit; Morgen entschwinde mit schimmerndem Flügel Wieder wie gestern und heute die Zeit, Bis ich auf höherem strahlendem Flügel Selber entschwinde der wechselnden Zeit.
Ah, time vanishes on dewy wing for me, on the rocking waves; Tomorrow, time will vanish with shimmering wings Again, as yesterday and today, Until I, on higher more radiant wing, Myself vanish to the changing time.
Die Taubenpost Friedrich Leopold, Graf zu Stolberg-Stolberg
The Pigeon Post trans. Emily Ezust
Ich hab eine Brieftaub in meinem Sold, Die ist gar ergeben und treu, Sie nimmt mir nie das Ziel zu kurz Und fliegt auch nie vorbei.
I have a carrier-pigeon in my pay, devoted and true; she never stops short of her goal and never flies too far.
Ich sende sie viel tausendmal Auf Kundschaft täglich hinaus, Vorbei an manchem lieben Ort, Bis zu der Liebsten Haus.
Each day I send her out a thousand times on reconnaissance, past many a beloved spot, to my sweetheart’s house.
Dort schaut sie zum Fenster heimlich hinein, Belauscht ihren Blick und Schritt, Gibt meine Grüße scherzend ab Und nimmt die ihren mit.
There she peeps furtively in at the window, observing her every look and step, conveys my greeting breezily, and brings hers back to me.
Kein Briefchen brauch ich zu schreiben mehr, Die Träne selbst geb ich ihr, O sie verträgt sie sicher nicht, Gar eifrig dient sie mir.
I no longer need to write a note, I can give her my very tears; she will certainly not deliver them wrongly, so eagerly does she serve me.
Bei Tag, bei Nacht, im Wachen, im Traum, Ihr gilt das alles gleich, Wenn sie nur wandern, wandern kann, Dann ist sie überreich.
Day or night, awake or dreaming, it is all the same to her; as long as she can roam she is richly contented.
Sie wird nicht müd, sie wird nicht matt, Der Weg ist stets ihr neu; Sie braucht nicht Lockung, braucht nich Lohn, Die Taub ist so mir treu!
She never grows tired or faint, the route is always fresh to her; she needs no enticement or reward, so true is this pigeon to me.
Drum heg ich sie auch so treu an der Brust, Versichert des schönsten Gewinns; Sie heißt - die Sehnsucht! Kennt ihr sie? Die Botin treuen Sinns.
I cherish her as truly in my heart, certain of the fairest prize; Her name is - Longing! Do you know her? The messenger of constancy.
MADISON ARTIST SERIES presents
Lang Lang Internationally acclaimed pianist Lang Lang’s albums have entered all of the top classical charts as well as many pop charts around the globe. Socially conscious, Lang Lang was designated by the Secretary General of the United Nations as a Messenger of Peace focusing on global education. He was also selected as one of 250 Young Global Leaders by the World Economic Forum in 2013. www.langlang.com
September 15, 2016 MOORES OPERA HOUSE Tickets on Sale May 1, 2016 uh.edu/music 713-743-3388
LANG LANG IS AN EXCLUSIVE RECORDING ARTIST OF SONY MUSIC
Photo | Xun Chi
ABOUT MA D I S O N A R T I S T S E R I E S The Madison Artist Series was created to bring the world’s finest artists to the University of Houston’s Moores School of Music both to inspire its students and offer world-class performances to the Houston community. The Madison Artist Series is named for arts patron, alumna and UH System regent Beth Madison. Madison was appointed to the board by then-Texas Governor Rick Perry in 2014. She is the founder of Madison Benefits Group Inc., a commercial risk management and insurance firm. Madison is engaged with several philanthropic activities in Houston, and has contributed her time and energies to organizations such as Madison Charitable Foundation, Houston Grand Opera, the Alley Theatre, the Houston Symphony, Trees for Houston, Baylor College of Medicine Teen Clinic and Baylor Partnership. Madison earned her bachelor’s degree from UH and is an active supporter of the C.T. Bauer College of Business, Moores School of Music, Athletics Department and Cullen College of Engineering. In 2010, Madison was named as one of the UH’s Distinguished Alumni and was awarded the President’s Medallion. The University of Houston’s Moores School of Music is one of the premier comprehensive music schools in the nation. Its remarkable faculty of internationally recognized performers, composers, and scholars; outstanding student body; modern facility; and broad range of programs make the Moores School of Music the natural choice for nearly 600 students annually. The school’s commitment to academic excellence and the highest performance standards has ensured its role as a vital resource in the educational and cultural life of Houston and beyond.
Photo | Alf Sorbello