Stella dayrit roden
PROGRAM
La jeune fille ~ Pauline Viardot (1821 - 1910)
Viens! mon bien-aimé ~ Cécile Chaminade (1857 - 1944)
La lune paresseuse ~ Cécile Chaminade
Soir, op. 83 no. 2 ~ Gabriel Fauré (1845 - 1924)
Tríptico sobre poesía cubana ~ Modesta Bor (1926-1998)
I. Guitarra
III. Nocturno en los muelles
Floresta do Amazonas ~ Heitor Villa-Lobos (1887 –1959)
Melodia Sentimental
Intermission
Songs of Travel, No. 2 Let Beauty Awake
~ Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872 - 1958)
Come to Me in My Dreams ~ Frank Bridge (1879 - 1941)
Love Went a-Riding ~ Frank Bridge
Three songs by John Alden Carpenter (1876 - 1951)
Bid Me to Live
On the Seashore of Endless Worlds
Serenade
Texts Translations
La jeune fille ~ Louis Pompey
Quand on est jeune et gentille,
Comment ne pas le savoir?
Tout d'abord, la jeune fille interroge son miroir
Lui plaît-il de mieux s'instruire?
La plus simple n'a qu'à lire
Dans un oeil brillant d'espoir.
Un jour vient où l'innocente,
Sur ce sujet est savante:
Il suffit d'entendre ce que dit une voix tendre.
Prends pitié, belle inhumaine, de ma peine!
Ou termine mon martyre, ou j'expire!
Mais de ce délire, le mieux est de rire.
Oui, de ce délire il faut rire.
Beaux oiseaux, au riche plumage
On connaît votre ramage,
Et certes le plus sage est de fuir tout servage.
Quand on est jeune et gentille,
Force est bien de la savoir,
Tout d'abord la jeune fille interroge son miroir. Lui plaît-il de mieux s'instruire?
La plus simple n'a qu'à lire
Dans un oeil brillant d'espoir.
The young girl ~ Barbara Miller
When one is young and pretty,
How is it possible not to know it?
To start with, the young girl asks her mirror
Would it like to teach her better?
The simplest only has to read
In an eye brilliant with hope.
A day comes when the innocent one,
On this subject is knowledgeable:
It's enough to hear what a tender voice says.
Take pity, beautiful inhuman one, on my pain!
Either my martyrdom must end, or I will die!
But of this delirium, the best course is to laugh.
Yes, one should laugh at this delirium.
Beautiful birds, with rich plumage
One knows your song,
And certainly the wisest course is to flee all servitude.
When one is young and pretty,
There is no choice but to know it well,
To start with, the young girl asks her mirror.
Would it like to teach her better?
The simplest has only to read
In an eye brilliant with hope.
Viens! mon bien‑aimé ~ Armand Lafrique
Les b'eaux jours vont enfin renaître,
Le voici, l'avril embaumé!
Un frisson d'amour me pénètre,
Viens! mon bien-aimé!
Ils ont fui, les longs soirs moroses,
Déjà le jardin parfumé
Se remplit d'oiseaux et de roses:
Viens! mon bien-aimé!
Soleil, de ta brûlante ivresse,
J'ai senti mon coeur enflammé,
Plus enivrante est ta caresse,
Viens! mon bien-aimé!
Tout se tait, de millions d'étoiles
Le ciel profond est parsemé,
Quand sur nous la nuit met ses voiles:
Viens! mon bien-aimé!
Come my sweet love! ~ Anne Marie Wilcox-Daehn
The beautiful days will finally return
And finally April is with us!
A frisson of love passes through me,
Come my sweet love!
Gone are the long, sad evenings,
The garden is perfumed
It is filling up with birds and roses.
Come my sweet love!
The sun flames intensely.
It burns in my heart,
Your caress is passionate
Come my sweet love
All is silent, the millions of stars,
Are scattered in the distant sky
When the night casts her veil:
Come, my sweet love!
La lune paresseuse ~ Charles de Bussy
Dans un rayon de crépuscule
S'endort la libellule;
Le rossignol s'est endormi
Sur la branche d'un chêne ami,
L'herbage est plein de lucioles,
Le ciel d'étoiles folles,
Et pourtant la lune qui luit
Laisse ses ombres a la nuit.
Mollement, Lune, tu reposes
Sous des nuages roses . . .
Oh! la paresseuse, pourquoi
Te jouer de mon tendre émoi?
Toujours voilée á l'heure douce
Où, glissant sur la mousse,
Les cigales chantent moins fort,
Tu ne te montres pas encor!
Lève-toi! brillante et sereine,
Viens éclairer la plaine!
Lune d'argent, Lune au front blanc,
Illumine mon bras tremblant!
Frôle de ta lumière pure
L'or de ma chevelure:
Car c'est bientôt que va passer
Sur la route mon fiancé! . . .
The idle moon ~ Richard Stokes
In a ray of twilight
The dragonfly falls asleep;
The nightingale has fallen asleep
On the branch of a friendly oak,
The grass teems with glow-worms,
The sky with whirling stars,
And yet the shining moon
Permits the night its patches of darkness.
Quietly, O moon, you repose
Beneath pink clouds . . .
Oh! idle one, why
Do you toy with my tender feelings?
You are always hidden at the sweet hour
When the crickets, moving over the moss,
Sing less loudly,
And still you do not show yourself!
Arise, brilliant and serene,
Light up the plain!
Silver moon, white-faced moon,
Illumine my trembling arm!
Brush with your pure light
The gold of my tresses:
For it will not be long
Before my betrothed passes by! . . .
Soir ~ Albert Samain
Voici que les jardins de la Nuit vont fleurir.
Les lignes, les couleurs, les sons deviennent vagues.
Vois, le dernier rayon agonise à tes bagues.
Ma sœur, entends-tu pas quelque chose mourir? …
Mets sur mon front tes mains
fraîches comme une eau pure,
Mets sur mes yeux tes mains
douces comme des fleurs;
Et que mon âme,
où vit le goût secret des pleurs,
Soit comme un lys fidèle et pâle à ta ceinture.
C’est la Pitié qui pose ainsi son doigt sur nous;
Et tout ce que la terre a de soupirs qui montent,
Il semble qu’à mon cœur enivré le racontent
Tes yeux levés au ciel, si tristes et si doux.
Evening ~ Richard Stokes
Now the gardens of Night begin to flower.
Lines, colours, and sounds begin to blur.
See the last rays fade on your rings.
Sister, can you not hear something die? …
Place your hands,
cool as pure water, on my brow,
Place on my eyes your hands
as sweet as flowers;
And let my soul,
with its secret taste of tears,
Be like a lily at your waist, faithful and pale.
It is Pity that lays thus its finger on us;
And all the sighs that rise from the earth
Seem uttered to my enraptured heart
By your sad sweet eyes raised to the skies.
Guitarra ~ Nicolás Guillén
Tendida en la madrugada,
la firme guitarra espera;
voz de profunda madera
desesperada.
Su clamorosa cintura,
en la que el pueblo suspira,
preñada de son, estira
la carne dura.
Y alzó la cabeza fina,
Universal y cubana,
Sin opio, ni mariguana,
ni cocaína.
Cógela tú guitarrero,
límpiate de alcol la boca,
y en esa guitarra, toca
tu son entero.
El son del querer maduro,
tu son entero;
el del abierto futuro,
tu son entero;
el del pié por sobre el muro,
tu son entero...
Guitar ~ Nicholas Miguel
Lying down in the early morning,
the firm guitar waits;
voice of deep wood
desperate.
Its clamorous waist,
for which the people sigh,
pregnant with sound, stretches
its hard flesh.
And it raised its fine head,
Universal and Cuban,
Without opium, nor marihuana,
nor cocaine.
Take her, you, guitar man,
clean your mouth of alcohol,
and on that guitar, play
your full sound.
The sound of ripe desire,
your full sound;
of an open future,
your full sound;
of a foot crossing over the wall,
your full sound...
Nocturno en los muelles ~ Nicolás Guillén
Bajo la noche tropical, el puerto.
El agua lame la inocente orilla
y el faro insulta al malecón desierto.
¡Qué calma tán robusta y tán sencilla!
Pero sobre los muelles solitarios
flota una tormentosa pesadilla.
Pena de cementerios y de osarios,
que enseña en pizarrones angustiosos
cómo un mismo dolor se parte en varios.
¡Oh puño fuerte elemental y duro!
¿Quién te sujeta el ademán abierto?
Nadie responde en el dolor del puerto.
El faro grita sobre el mar oscuro.
Nocturne on the Docks ~ Nicholas Miguel
Under the tropical night, the port.
The water laps the innocent shore
and the lighthouse insults the deserted pier.
What calm so robust and so natural!
But over the solitary docks
floats a tempestuous nightmare.
Ghost of cemeteries and of ossuaries,
that teaches on anguished chalkboards
how the same pain is broken into pieces.
Oh strong fist, elemental and hard!
Who restrains your open gesture?
Nobody responds to the pain of the port.
The lighthouse screams over the dark sea.
Melodia sentimental ~ Dora Alencar Vasconcellos
Acorda, vem ver a lua
Que dorme na noite escura
Que fulge tão bela e branca
Derramando doçura
Clara chama silente
Ardendo meu sonhar
As asas da noite que surgem
E correm o espaço profundo
Oh, doce amada, desperta
Vem dar teu calor ao luar
Quisera saber-te minha
Na hora serena e calma
A sombra confia ao vento
O limite da espera
Quando dentro da noite
Reclama o teu amor
Acorda, vem olhar a lua
Que dorme na noite escura
Querida, és linda e meiga
Sentir meu amor e sonhar
Sentimental Song
Wake up, come watch the moon
It sleeps in the dark night
And shows, so beautiful and bright
Pouring down sweetness
Bright silent flame
Burning on my sight
The wings of the night that comes
And run thru the deep space
oh, sweet loved one, wake up
Come, give your tenderness to the moonlight
I wish I knew you were mine
In the calm and silent time
The shadow trusts the wind
The limit of the waiting
When inside the night
I ask for your love
Wake up, come watch the moon
It sleeps in the dark night
Dear, you are beautiful and sweet
Feel my love and dream
Let Beauty awake ~ Robert Louis Stevenson
Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams,
Beauty awake from rest!
Let Beauty awake
For Beauty's sake
In the hour when the birds awake in the brake
And the stars are bright in the west!
Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day,
Awake in the crimson eve!
In the day's dusk end
When the shades ascend,
Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend,
To render again and receive!
Come to me in my dreams ~ Matthew Arnold
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to all the rest as me.
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth;
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say - My love! why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For [then]1 the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Love went a‑riding ~ Mary Coleridge
Love went a-riding over the earth,
On Pegasus he rode . . .
The flowers before him sprang to birth,
And the frozen rivers flowed.
Then all the youths and the maidens cried,
"Stay here with us, King of Kings!"
But Love said, "No! for the horse I ride,
For the horse I ride has wings."
Bid me to live, and I will live ~ Robert Herrick
Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be:
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.
A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free,
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.
Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
To honour thy Decree:
Or bid it languish quite away,
And 't shall doe so for thee.
Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see:
And having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.
Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress-tree:
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en Death, to die for thee.
Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me:
And has command of ev'ry part,
To live and die for thee.
On the seashore of endless worlds ~ Rabindranath Tagore
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead
and the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds
the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand
and they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats
and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim,
they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls,
merchants sail in their ships,
while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures,
they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter,
and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
Death-dealing waves sing
meaningless ballads to the children,
even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with children,
and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky,
ships get wrecked in the trackless water,
death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds
is the great meeting of children.
Serenade ~ Siegfried Lorraine Sassoon
You were glad tonight: And now you've gone away.
Flushed in the dark, you put your dreams to bed;
But as you fall asleep I hear you say
those tired, sweet, drowsy words we left unsaid.
I am alone, all alone but in the windless night
I listen to the gurgling of the rain that veils
the gloom with peace: and whispering of your white
limbs, and your mouth that stormed my throat with bliss,
the rain becomes your voice, and tells me tales
That crowd my heart with memories of your kiss.
Sleep well! for I can follow you, to bless
And lull your distant beauty where you roam;
And with wild songs of hoarded loveliness
Recall you to these arms that were your home.