Martina Myskohlid, mezzo-soprano, March 26, 2021

Robert Blocker, Dean March 26, 2021 4:30 pm | Morse Recital Hall in Sprague Memorial Hall

master of music degree recital

Martina Myskohlid mezzo-soprano Opera

Kyle Swann piano Hector Berlioz 1803–1869

Selections from Les nuits d'été, Op. 7 I. Villanelle II. Le spectre de la rose IV. L'absence VI. L'île inconnue

Théophile Gautier

Alexander von Zemlinsky 1871–1942

Selections from 6 Gesänge for medium voice, Op. 13 I. Die drei Schwestern II. Die Mädchen mit den verbundenen Augen IV. Als ihr Geliebter scheid VI. Sie kam zum Schloß gegangen

Maurice Maeterlinck

Manuel de Falla 1876–1946

Siete canciones populares Españolas (1914) I. El paño moruno II. Seguidilla murciana III. Asturiana IV. Jota V. Nana VI. Canción VII. Polo

Traditional Spanish

Sergei Rachmaninoff 1873–1943

Увял цветок! (1893)

Daniil Rathaus

О, не грусти, Op. 14, No. 8

Aleksey Apukhtin

Весенние воды, Op. 14, No. 11

Fyodor Tyutchev

This performance is in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the master of music degree.

Selections from Les nuits d’éte Hector Berlioz (1803-1869)

The Summer Nights

1. Villanelle Théophile Gautier (1811-1872)

Villanelle

Quand viendra la saison nouvelle, Quand auront disparu les froids, Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle, Pour cueillir le muguet aux bois; Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles Que l’on voit au matin trembler, Nous irons écouter les merles Siffler!

Le printemps est venu, ma belle; C’est le mois des amants béni, Et l’oiseau, satinant son aile, Dit ses vers au rebord du nid.

Oh! viens donc sur ce banc de mousse, Pour parler de nos beaux amours, Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce: Toujours!

Loin, bien loin, égarant nos courses, Faisons fuir le lapin caché, Et le daim au miroir des sources Admirant son grand bois penché; Puis, chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises, En paniers enlaçant nos doigts, Revenons rapportant des fraises Des bois!

When the new season comes, When the cold has gone, We two will go, my sweet, To gather lilies-of-the-valley in the woods; Scattering as we tread the pearls of dew We see quivering each morn, We’ll go and hear the blackbirds Sing!

Spring has come, my sweet; It is the season lovers bless, And the birds, preening their wings, Sing songs from the edge of their nests.

Ah! Come, then, to this mossy bank To talk of our beautiful love, And tell me in your gentle voice: Forever!

Far, far away we’ll stray from our path, Startling the rabbit from his hiding-place And the deer reflected in the spring, Admiring his great lowered antlers; Then home we’ll go, serene and at ease, And entwining our fingers basket-like, We’ll bring back home wild Strawberries!

2. Le spectre de la rose Théophile Gautier

The Spectre of the Rose

Soulève ta paupière close Qu’effleure un songe virginal; Je suis le spectre d’une rose Que tu portais hier au bal.

Tu me pris encore emperlée Des pleurs d’argent de l’arrosoir, Et parmi le fête étoilée Tu me promenas tout le soir. Ô toi, qui de ma mort fus cause, Sans que tu puisses le chasser, Toutes les nuits mon spectre rose À ton chevet viendra danser.

Open your eyelids, Brushed by a virginal dream; I am the spectre of a rose That yesterday you wore at the dance.

You plucked me still sprinkled With silver tears of dew, And amid the glittering feast You wore me all evening long.

O you who brought about my death, You shall be powerless to banish me: The rosy spectre which every night Will come to dance at your bedside.

Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame Ni messe ni De profundis; Ce léger parfum est mon âme, Et j’arrive du paradis.

Mon destin fut digne d’envie: Et pour avoir un sort si beau, Plus d’un aurait donné sa vie, Car sur ton sein j’ai mon tombeau, Et sur l’albâtre où je repose Un poëte avec un baiser Écrivit: Ci-gît une rose Que tous les rois vont jalouser.

But be not afraid – I demand Neither Mass nor De Profundis; This faint perfume is my soul, And I come from Paradise.

My destiny was worthy of envy; And for such a beautiful fate, Many would have given their lives – For my tomb is on your breast, And on the alabaster where I lie, A poet with a kiss Has written: Here lies a rose Which every king will envy.

4. Absence Théophile Gautier

Absence

Reviens, reviens, me bien-aimée; Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée Loin de ton sourire vermeil!

Entre nos cœurs quelle distance!

Tant d’espace entre nos baisers! Ô sort amer! ô dure absence! Ô grands désirs inapaisés!

Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée.

Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée Loin de ton sourire vermeil!

D’ici là-bas, que de campagnes, Que de villes et de hameaux, Que de vallons et de montagnes, À lasser le pied des chevaux.

Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée.

Comme une fleur loin du soleil, La fleur de ma vie est fermée Loin de ton sourire vermeil!

Return, return, my sweetest love!

Like a flower far from the sun, The flower of my life is closed Far from your crimson smile!

Such a distance between our hearts!

So great a gulf between our kisses!

O bitter fate! O harsh absence!

O great unassuaged desires!

Return, return, my sweetest love!

Like a flower far from the sun, The flower of my life is closed Far from your crimson smile!

So many intervening plains, So many towns and hamlets, So many valleys and mountains To weary the horses’ hooves.

Return, return, my sweetest love!

Like a flower far from the sun, The flower of my life is closed Far from your crimson smile!

6. L’île inconnue Théophile Gautier

The Unknown Island

Dites, le jeune belle, Où voulez-vous aller?

La voile ouvre son aile, La brise va souffler!

L’aviron est d’ivoire, Le pavillon de moire,

Tell me, pretty young maid, Where is it you would go?

The sail is billowing, The breeze about to blow!

The oar is of ivory, The pennant of watered silk,

Le gouvernail d’or fin; J’ai pour lest une orange, Pour voile une aile d’ange, Pour mousse un séraphin.

Dites, le jeune belle, Où voulez-vous aller?

La voile ouvre son aile, La brise va souffler!

Est-ce dans la Baltique Dans la mer Pacifique, Dans l’île de Java?

Ou bien est-ce en Norvège, Cueillir la fleur de neige Ou la fleur d’Angsoka?

Dites, le jeune belle, Où voulez-vous aller?

Menez-moi, dit la belle, À la rive fidèle Où l’on aime toujours.

– Cette rive, ma chère, On ne la connaît guère Au pays des amours.

Où voulez-vous aller?

La brise va souffler.

The rudder of finest gold; For ballast I’ve an orange, For sail an angel’s wing, For cabin-boy a seraph.

Tell me, pretty young maid, Where is it you would go?

The sail is billowing, The breeze about to blow!

Perhaps the Baltic, Or the Pacific Or the Isle of Java?

Or else to Norway, To pluck the snow flower Or the flower of Angsoka?

Tell me, pretty young maid, Where is it you would go?

Take me, said the pretty maid, To the shore of faithfulness Where love endures forever.

– That shore, my sweet, Is scare known In the realm of love.

Where is it you would go?

The breeze is about to blow!

Translations by Richard Stokes

Selections from 6 Gesänge for medium voice Alexander von Zemlinsky (1871-1942) 1. Die drei Schwestern Maurice Maeterlinck (1862-1949)

The Three Sisters

Die drei Schwestern wollten sterben, Setzten auf die güldnen Kronen, Gingen sich den Tod zu holen.

Wähnten ihn im Walde wohnen: „Wald, so gib uns, dass wir sterben, Sollst drei güldne Kronen erben.“ Da begann der Wald zu lachen Und mit einem Dutzend Küssen Liess er sie die Zukunft wissen.

Die drei Schwestern wollten sterben, Wähnten Tod im Meer zu finden, Pilgerten drei Jahre lang. „Meer, so gib uns, dass wir sterben, Sollst drei güldne Kronen erben.“

The three sisters wished to die, Put on their golden crowns, Went out to discover death.

Imagined he dwelt in the forest: ‘Forest, if you permit us to die, You shall inherit three golden crowns.’

At which the forest began to laugh, And with a dozen kisses Revealed to them the future.

The three sisters wished to die, Imagined they’d find death in the sea, Pilgrimaged for three years.

‘Sea, if you permit us to die, You shall inherit three golden crowns.’

Da begann das Meer zu weinen, Liess mir dreimal hundert Küssen Die Vergangenheit sie wissen.

Die drei Schwestern wollten sterben, Lenkten nach der Stadt die Schritte; Lag auf einer Insel Mitte. „Stadt, so gib uns, dass wir sterben, Sollst drei güldne Kronen erben.“ Und die Stadt tat auf die Tore Und mit heissen Liebesküssen Liess die Gegenwart sie wissen.

At which the sea began to weep, And with three hundred kisses Revealed to them the past.

The three sisters wished to die, Made their way towards a town In the middle of an island.

‘Town, if you permit us to die, You shall inherit three golden crowns.’

And the town opened its gates, And with passionate, loving kisses Revealed to them the present.

2. Die Mädchen mit den verbundenen Augen The Girls with Blindfolded Eyes Maurice Maeterlinck Die Mädchen mit den verbundenen Augen (Tut ab die goldenen Binden!)

Die Mädchen mit den verbundenen Augen Wollten ihr Schicksal finden.

Haben zur Mittagsstunde das Schloss (Lasst an die goldenen Binden!)

Haben zur Mittagsstunde das Schloss Geöffnet im Wiesengrunde.

Haben das Leben gegrüsst, (Zieht fester die goldenen Binden!)

Haben das Leben gegrüsst, Ohne hinaus zu finden.

The girls with blindfolded eyes (Put away those golden bandages!)

The girls with blindfolded eyes Wished to discover their destiny...

And at noon they opened (Leave on those golden bandages!)

And at noon they opened The castle gates in the meadow...

They greeted life (Tighten those golden bandages!)

They greeted life Without finding their way out.

4. Als ihr Geliebter schied Maurice Maeterlinck

When her lover departed

Als ihr Geliebter schied, (Ich hörte die Türe gehn), Als ihr Geliebter schied, Da hab ich sie weinen gesehn.

Doch als er wieder kam, (Ich hörte des Lichtes Schein), Doch als er wieder kam, War ein anderer daheim.

Und ich sah den Tod, (Mich streifte sein Hauch), Und ich sah den Tod, Der erwartet ihn auch.

When her lover departed, (I heard the door close), When her lover departed, I saw her weeping...

But when he returned, (I heard the lamp flare), But when he returned, Another man was there...

And I saw death, (Breathing on me gently), And I saw death, Waiting for him too.

6. Sie kam zum Schloß gegangen Maurice Maeterlinck

She Came to the Castle

Sie kam zum Schloss gegangen — Die Sonne erhob sich kaum — Sie kam zum Schloss gegangen, Die Ritter blickten mit Bangen Und es schwiegen die Frauen.

Sie blieb vor der Pforte stehen, — Die Sonne erhob sich kaum — Sie blieb vor der Pforte stehen, Man hörte die Königin gehen Und der König fragte sie: Wohin gehst du? Wohin gehst du?

— Gib acht in dem Dämmerschein! — Wohin gehst du? Wohin gehst du?

Harrt drunten jemand dein?

Sie sagte nicht ja noch nein.

Sie stieg zur Fremden hernieder, — Gib acht in dem Dämmerschein! — Sie stieg zu der Fremden hernieder, Sie schloss sie in ihre Arme ein.

Die beiden sagten nicht ein Wort Und gingen eilends fort.

She came to the castle, — The sun had hardly risen — She came to the castle, The knights looked on in fear, And the ladies fell silent.

She halted in front of the gate, — The sun had hardly risen — She halted in front of the gate, The queen could be heard pacing, And the king asked her: Where are you bound? Where are you bound?

— Be wary in this twilight — Where are you bound? Where are you bound?

Does someone wait for you below?

She answered neither yes nor no.

She descended to the unknown woman, — Be wary in this twilight — She descended to the unknown woman, Who clasped her in her arms.

Neither of them said a word And swiftly they hurried away.

Translations by Richard Stokes

Siete canciones populares Españolas Manuel de Falla (1876-1946)

Seven Popular Spanish Songs

1. El paño moruno Gregorio Martínez Sierra (1881-1947)

The Moorish Cloth

Al paño fino, en la tienda, una mancha le cayó.

Por menos precio se vende, porque perdió su valor. ¡Ay!

On the delicate fabric in the shop there fell a stain.

It sells for less for it has lost its value Ay!

2. Seguidilla murciana Anon.

Seguidilla from Murcia

Cualquiera que el tejado tenga de vidrio, no debe tirar piedras al del vecino.

People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones at their neighbour's.

Arrieros semos; ¡puede que en el camino, nos encontremos!

Por tu mucha inconstancia, yo te comparo con peseta que corre de mano en mano; Que al fin se borra, y créyendola falsa nadie la toma!

We are drovers; it may be we'll meet on the road!

For your many infidelities I shall compare you to a peseta (coin) passing from hand to hand, till finally it's worn down – and believing it false no one will take it!

3. Asturiana Anon.

Asturian Song

Por ver si me consolaba, arrimeme a un pino verde, Por verme llorar, lloraba.

Y el pino como era verde, por verme llorar, lloraba!

To see if it might console me I drew near a green pine.

To see me weep, it wept.

And the pine, since it was green, wept to see me weeping!

4. Jota Anon.

Jota

Dicen que no nos queremos, porque no nos ven hablar.

A tu corazón y al mío se lo pueden preguntar.

Ya me despido de tí, de tu casa y tu ventana.

Y aunque no quiera tu madre.

Adiós, niña, hasta mañana.

They say we're not in love since they never see us talk; let them ask your heart and mine!

I must leave you now, your house and your window, and though your mother disapprove, goodbye, sweet love, till tomorrow.

5. Nana Anon.

Lullaby

Duérmete, niño, duerme, duerme, mi alma, duérmete, lucerito, de la mañana.

Naninta, nana. duérmete, lucerito de la mañana.

Sleep, little one, sleep, sleep, my darling, sleep, my little morning star.

Lullay, lullay, sleep, my little morning star.

6. Canción Anon.

Song

Por traidores, tus ojos, voy a enterrarlos.

No sabes lo que cuesta »del aire«.

Niña, el mirarlos »Madre, a la orilla«.

Dicen que no me quieres, ya me has querido.

Váyase lo ganado, »del aire«.

Por lo perdido, »Madre, a la orilla«.

Since your eyes are treacherous, I'm going to bury them; you know not what it costs, 'del aire', dearest, to gaze into them.

'Mother, a la orilla.'

They say you do not love me, but you loved me once.

Make the best of it 'del aire', and cut your losses, 'Mother, a la orilla.'

7. Polo Anon.

Polo

¡Ay! Guardo una pena en mi pecho que a nadie se la diré. ¡Malhaya el amor, malhaya y quien me lo dió a entender! ¡Ay!

Ay! I have an ache in my heart of which I can tell no one.

A curse on love, and a curse on the one who made me feel it!

Ay! Translations by Jacqueline Cockburn

Увял цветок Д. Ратгауза (1868-1937)

The Flower Died

Увял цветок! Лазурным утром мая Нашла гроза, Сломился стебелек… И, словно слезы, Лепестки роняя, Увял цветок!

The flower died!

On an azure morning in May A thunderstorm came, Breaking its stalk… and like tears, shedding its petals, The flower died!

Тебя любил он С неземною силой, Как только жрец Любить богиню мог, Но ты взята

He loved you With an unearthly power As only a priest Could love a goddess But you were taken

Безжалостной могилой… Увял цветок!

By the pitiless grace…

The flower died!

Чужой мечтам, Чужой желаньям ясным, Твой бедный друг Душою изнемог. Возврата нет к угасшим Дням прекрасным… Увял цветок! Увял цветок!

Alien to dreams, Alien to clear desires Your poor friend I was exhausted in my soul.

The lovely burned-out days Are gone beyond return…

The flower died! The flower died!

О, не грусти А. Апухтина (1840-1893)

Oh, do not grieve

О, не грусти по мне, Я там, где нет страданий. Забудь былых скорбей мучительные сны. Пусть будут обо мне твои воспоминанья Светлей, чем первый день весны.

Oh, do not grieve for me, I am where there is no suffering.

Forget the painful dreams of past sorrows May all your memories of me Be brighter than the first day.

О, не тоскуй по мне! Меж нами нет разлуки, Я так же, как и встарь, душе твоей близка, Меня по–прежнему твои волнуют муки, Меня гнетет твоя тоска.

Oh, do not pine for me!

We are not separated from each other I am, just like the old days, close to your soul I am still worried about your anguish, Your melancholy oppresses me.

Живи! Ты должен жить! И если силой чуда Ты здесь найдешь отраду и покой, То знай, что это я откликнулась оттуда На зов души твоей больной.

Live! You must live!

And if by some miracle you find happiness and peace here, Know that it was I who answered from afar, The call of your wounded soul.

Весенние воды Ф. И. Тютчев (1803-1873)

Spring Waters

Еще в полях белеет снег, А воды уж весной шумят Бегут и будят сонный брег, Бегут, и блещут, и гласят...

The fields are still white with snow, And already the waters are rustling in the spring – Running along and waking sleepy riverbanks, Running and glittering and declaring…

They declare in all directions: “Spring is coming, spring is coming, we are the heralds of young spring, she sent us ahead!

Они гласят во все концы: "Весна идет, весна идет, Мы молодой весны гонцы, Она нас выслала вперед!

Весна идет, весна идет!” И тихих, теплых майских дней Румяный, светлый хоровод Толпится весело за ней!..

Spring is coming, spring is coming!”

And the quiet, warm days of May In a rosy, bright circle-dance, Crowd together and gaily follow behind her!

Translations by Martina Myskohlid

Thank you all so much for tuning in to my Graduating Recital. It means the world to me that you were here to share this beautiful music with me, and also to celebrate this very exciting chapter of my life. I am so fortunate to be graduating with a Master’s of Music from Yale, so grateful to everyone I have met along the way, and eternally thankful to those who continue to support me from all the way back home in Canada. I am thrilled to be joining the Atelier Lyrique de l’Opéra de Montréal this Fall 2021 to continue my professional experience.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart!