The Light that is Felt – James Danner

    Thursday, December 17 at 7 pm (Eastern)

    The Light that is Felt

    James Danner, tenor, with Chris Fecteau, piano
    Songs and Carols by Samuel Barber, Charles Ives, Gustav Holst, & William Grant Still

    PROGRAM NOTES by James Danner:

    I was initially curious to put these three American composers into conversation with each other because I felt a sympathy between their handling of poetry and melodic line; at once highly integrated and complex, and yet immediately accessible to the audience. Like so many great composers, the specificity of writing breeds a clarity, a somatic immediacy that impels the listener into the experience.

    The title of the program, The Light that is Felt, comes from the so-titled song by Ives. At this time of year, there is a certain quality of light that is so present as we draw ever close toward the Solstice–of long reaching horizontal beams, that for me, evokes a very particular type of nostalgia, which is taken up by the program as a whole. 

    This type of nostalgia is no doubt to do with this time of year filled with ritual and family (so interrupted by our current circumstance), and as we are besieged with “best of” lists for everything under the sun, I find a funny consonance; this program evokes a feeling not just of nostalgia, but of having to reckon with that curious type of melancholy. You can understand why a few centuries ago nostalgia was deemed a sickness–there is a bittersweet joy and slight nausea in the longing which is prompted by certain involuntary reminiscence. All said, an intense, and arresting physical experience which demands, and commands our consideration.

    In learning and reviewing these songs, I was drawn in by this image of beams of light, stretching across a chilly room–perhaps it is the afternoon in December and for a moment no one is home; the outstretched beams are soft and brilliant as they touch and refract the interior, arcing slowly through and away. Feeling Light in its myriad aspects, the sort of sacredness of the mundane which it alights, can so catch one off guard. For me, it is so interconnected with memory and remembering–and moreover, the perspective which it can bring.

    I’ve decided to intermingle the songs (with the inclusion of one of my favorite carols) to further illustrate this effect. So many stories can be told in their rearranging, but I hope you enjoy this particular path of memory, of joy and pain, the intimate and the exposed, of bittersweet yearning which–we hope–resolves to grace. 

    PROGRAM:

    – The Secrets of the Old (Samuel Barber/W. B. Yates)

    – Memories: A, Very Pleasant/B, Rather Sad (Charles Ives)
    – In the Bleak Midwinter (Gustav Holst/Christina Rossetti)

    – The Breath of a Rose (William Grant Still/Langston Hughes)
    – A Nun Takes the Veil (Barber/Gerard Manly Hopkins)

    – The Light That is Felt (Ives/John Greenleaf Whittier)
    – Citadel (Still/Virginia Brasier)

    – Song for the Lonely (Still/Verna Arvey)
    – Sure on this Shining Night (Barber/James Agee)
    – Nocturne (Barber/Frederic Prokosch)

    – A Christmas Carol (Ives)

    TEXTS:

    The Secrets of the Old (W. B. Yeats)

    I have old women’s secrets now
    That had those of the young;
    Madge tells me what I dared not think
    When my blood was strong,
    And what had drowned a lover once
    Sounds like an old song.

    Though Marg’ry is stricken dumb
    If thrown in Madge’s way,
    We three make up a solitude;
    For none alive today
    Can know the stories that we know
    Or say the things we say:

    How such a man pleased women most
    Of all that are gone,
    How such a pair loved many years
    And such a pair but one,
    Stories of the bed of straw
    Or the bed of down.

    First published in London Mercury, May 1927 as one of “Two Songs from the Old Countryside”, then included as one of “The Old Countryman” in October Blast (1927), then included as one of “A Man Young and Old” in The Tower
    Memories

    A, – Very Pleasant

    We’re sitting in the opera house;
    We’re waiting for the curtain to arise
    With wonders for our eyes;
    We’re feeling pretty gay,
    And well we may,
    “O, Jimmy, look!” I say,
    “The band is tuning up
    And soon will start to play.”
    We whistle and we hum,
    Beat time with the drum.

    We’re sitting in the opera house;
    We’re waiting for the curtain to arise
    With wonders for our eyes,
    A feeling of expectancy,
    A certain kind of ecstasy,
    Expectancy and ecstasy… Shhhhh.

    B, – Rather Sad

    From the street a strain on my ear doth fall,
    A tune as threadbare as that “old red shawl,”
    It is tattered, it is torn,
    It shows signs of being worn,
    It’s the tune my Uncle hummed from early morn,
    ’Twas a common little thing and kind ’a sweet,
    But ’twas sad and seemed to slow up both his feet;
    I can see him shuffling down
    To the barn or to the town,
    A humming.
    In the Bleak Midwinter  (Christina Rossetti)

    I.
    In the bleak mid-winter
    Frosty wind made moan;
    Earth stood hard as iron,
    Water like a stone;
    Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
    Snow on snow,
    In the bleak mid-winter
    Long ago.

    IV.
    Angels and Archangels
    May have gathered there,
    Cherubim and seraphim
    Thronged the air;
    But only His Mother
    In her maiden bliss
    Worshipped the Beloved
    With a kiss.

    V.
    What can I give Him,
    Poor as I am? —
    If I were a Shepherd
    I would bring a lamb;
    If I were a Wise Man
    I would do my part, —
    Yet what I can I give Him, —
    Give my heart.
    The Breath of a Rose (Langston Hughes)

    Love is like dew
    On lilacs at dawn:
    Comes the swift sun
    And the dew is gone.

    Love is like star-light
    In the sky at morn:
    Star-light that dies
    When day is born.

    Love is like perfume
    In the heart of a rose:
    The flower withers,
    The perfume goes–

    Love is no more
    Than the breath of a rose,
    No more
    Than the breath of a rose.
    A Nun Takes the Veil: Heaven-Haven (Gerard Manly Hopkins)

    I have desired to go
    Where springs not fail,
    To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
    And a few lilies blow.

    And I have asked to be
    Where no storms come,
    Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
    And out of the swing of the sea.
    The Light that is Felt (John Greenleaf Whittier)

    A tender child of summers three,
    at night, while seeking her little bed,
    Paused on the dark stair timidly,
    Oh, mother take my hand, said she,
    And then the dark will be light…
    We older children grope our way
    from dark behind to dark before;
    And only when our hands we lay
    in Thine, O God! the night is day,
    and there is darkness never more.
    Citadel  (Virginia Brasier)

    Love can lace leaves together
    And make them proof against the world,
    Or strengthen whatever insubstantial roof houses a family.
    Sometimes at night all mothers waken
    And with the littlest light, and greatest quiet,
    Tour the rooms to see that all sleep, covered well, and peacefully;
    To chase out dreams and let in more fresh air,
    And just be glad that each is sleeping there.
    Love can lace even leaves
    And make them proof against peril,
    Or strengthen whatever insubstantial roof.

    From “The Reflective Rib,” 1955
    Song for the Lonely (Verna Arvey)

    Raindrops, soft from the mist,
    Disturb the stillness of my thoughts.
    Raindrops, soft from the mist, beat down.
    No birdnote breaks the all pervading hush,
    No ray of moonlight cuts the darkness.
    No footstep comes along the graveled pathway,
    Nor the sound of a stone displaced.
    Soft raindrops, fresh from the mist,
    Dull the pain of loneliness.
    Soft raindrops, fresh from the mist, beat down.
    Raindrops, unceasing:
    They bring again the breath of a presence.
    Raindrops, insistent:
    They bring again a long lost dream.
    Raindrops, unending:
    They fall into my soul, into my heart,
    And mingle with my tears.
    Sure on this shining night (James Agee)

    Sure on this shining night
    Of star made shadows round,
    Kindness must watch for me
    This side the ground.
    The late year lies down the north.
    All is healed, all is health.
    High summer holds the earth.
    Hearts all whole.
    Sure on this shining night
    I weep for wonder wand’ring far alone
    Of shadows on the stars.

    From a longer poem, “Description of Elysium” published in Agee’s singular volume of poetry, Permit Me Voyage, 1934
    Nocturne (Frederic Prokosch)

    Close my darling both your eyes,
    Let your arms lie still at last.
    Calm the lake of falsehood lies
    And the wind of lust has passed,
    Waves across these hopeless sands
    Fill my heart and end my day,
    Underneath your moving hands
    All my aching flows away.

    Even the human pyramids
    Blaze with such a longing now:
    Close, my love, your trembling lids,
    Let the midnight heal your brow,
    Northward flames Orion’s horn,
    Westward th’ Egyptian light.
    None to watch us, none to warn
    But the blind eternal night.

    From The Carnival, 1938
    A Christmas Carol (text by Charles Ives)

    Little star of Bethlehem!
    Do we see Thee now?
    Do we see Thee shining
    O’er the tall trees?
    Little Child of Bethlehem!
    Do we hear thee in our hearts?
    Hear the Angels singing:
    Peace on earth, good will to men!
    Noel!

    O’er the cradle of a King,
    Hear the Angels sing:
    In Excelsis Gloria, Gloria!
    From his Father’s home on high,
    Lo! for us He came to die;
    Hear the Angels sing:
    Venite adoremus Dominum.

    Hearts on Sleeves – Jessica Bloch

    Sunday, December 13 at 5 pm (Eastern)

    Hearts on Sleeves

    Jessica Bloch, soprano, with Chris Fecteau, piano
    Songs of Robert Owens, Poldowski, Undine Smith Moore, Juliana Hall, Cecil Cohen and Barbara Strozzi 

    PROGRAM NOTES by Jessica Bloch

    The theme of my recital, “Hearts on Sleeves,” touches on our human vulnerability as we experience life, death, nature, and love.

    ‘La Commedia,‘ the first set of songs, is named for the commedia dell’arte characters which connect “Colombine” by Poldowski, and two songs from Robert Owens’ song cycle Heart on the Wall: “Heart”, and “For dead mimes.”  Together, these pieces create the story of Pierrot, who is considered a simple character and a servant.  Pierrot’s journey begins serving the Colombine (another tricky servant character) with his fellow characters: Leander, Cassander, and Harlequin.  Pierrot then offers his heart to the world, only for the world to ignore him.  Like so many great artists of their time, they are only appreciated when they are gone.  Pierrot rests with his beloved Pierrette.

    ‘Ghosts,’ our second set, includes three vignettes of lost souls, completing Owens’ Heart on the Wall cycle. “Havana Dreams” shows a person torn between the paths in life which lay before them. They wonder if the fulfillment they seek could be in a life partner, but ultimately are undecided as to what their path should be. “Girl” is the story of a woman who has passed on; however her love of life is still remembered. I dedicate this piece to Henrietta Lacks, a woman who has saved thousands of lives even after her tragic death of an aggressive cervical cancer.  Since her death, cancerous cells donated from her body have contributed to countless medical advances. Just as Henrietta Lacks is said to have enjoyed dancing, the ghost of the girl in Owens’ song also still enjoys dancing in the rain.  “Remembrance” tells two sides of the same coin: fear of failure, but also fear of success.  The subject of the song spent their whole life in such a paradox and now holds onto the regret of not doing more in life.

    ‘Nature,’ our third group of songs, combines Julianna Hall’s “A Northeast Storm” and Cecil Cohen’s “Death of an Old Seaman”. These contrasting pieces explore the human connection to nature and its wonders. “A Northeast Storm” sets the text of a letter by Emily Dickinson, written to her brother Austin, and recounting their family’s gathering during a particular stormy night. “Death of an Old Seaman” describes sending a loved one back to the sea and thus back to nature on the completion of their life. Storms and seas hold so much power; we can all relate to the effects that nature has on us as people in both life and death.

    ‘Two-faced Love,’ the fourth and final set, shows both a comical take on love’s pains in Barbara Strozzi’s “Amore è bandito” and the overwhelming warmth and fullness that love brings us in Undine S. Moore’s “Love Let the Wind Cry… How I Adore Thee”.  These final pieces remind us that even after the difficult moments that leave us scarred, nothing can match the beauty of loving and being loved.  I hope that this last set leaves everyone with a sense of hope and security in this time of vulnerability.

    TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS:

    Colombine

    Léandre le sot,
    Pierrot qui d’un saut
    De puce
    Franchit le buisson,
    Cassandre sous
    Capuce,

    Arlequin aussi,
    Cet aigrefin si
    Fantasque
    Aux costumes fous,
    Ses yeux luisants sous
    Son masque,

    – Do, mi, sol, mi, fa,-
    Tout ce monde va,
    Rit, chante
    Et danse devant
    Une belle enfant
    Méchante

    Dont les yeux pervers
    Comme les yeux verts
    Des chattes
    Gardent ses appas
    Et disent: «A bas
    Les pattes!»

    -Eux ils vont toujours!
    Fatidique cours
    Des astres,
    Oh! dis-moi vers quels
    Mornes ou cruels
    Désastres

    L’implacable enfant,
    Preste et relevant
    Ses jupes,
    La rose au chapeau,
    Conduit son troupeau
    De dupes?

    		 Colombine

    Leander the fool
    Pierrot, who with a hop
    Like a flea
    Jumps over the shrubbery;
    Cassander under his
    Cloak;

    Harlequin also,
    This cunning trickster so
    Fantastic
    In his crazy costume,
    His eyes gleaming behind
    His mask

    – Do, mi, so, mi, fa –
    All these people go
    Laughing, singing
    And dancing before
    A lovely child
    Naughty

    Whose wicked eyes
    Like the green eyes
    Of cats
    Guard their charms
    And say “keep your
    hands off!”

    Forever they go on!
    Like the fateful course
    Of the stars
    Oh! Tell me toward what
    Shadowy or cruel
    Disasters

    The determined child,
    Nimble and lifting
    Her skirts,
    A rose in her hat
    Leads her band
    Of fools?
    Heart

    Pierrot
    Took his heart
    And hung it
    On a wayside wall.
    He said,
    “Look, Passers-by,
    Here is my heart!”

    But no one was curious.
    No one cared at all
    That there hung
    Pierrot’s heart
    On the public wall.

    So Pierrot
    Took his heart
    And hid it
    Far away.
    Now people wonder
    Where his heart is
    Today.
    For Dead Mimes

    O white-faced mimes,
    May rose leaves
    Cover you
    Like crimson
    Snow.

    And may Pierrette,
    The faithful,
    Rest forever
    Havana Dreams

    The dream is a cocktail at Sloppy Joe’s —
    (Maybe — nobody knows.)

    The dream is the road to Batabano.
    (But nobody knows if that is so.)

    Perhaps the dream is only her face —
    Perhaps it’s a fan of silver lace —
    Or maybe the dream’s a Vedado rose —
    (Quien sabe? Who really knows?)
    Girl

    She lived in sinful happiness
    And died in pain.
    She danced in sunshine
    And laughed in rain.

    She went one summer morning
    When flowers spread the plain,
    But she told everybody
    She was coming back again.

    Folks made a coffin
    And hid her deep in earth.
    Seems like she said:
    My body
    Brings new birth.

    For sure there grew flowers
    And tall young trees
    And sturdy weeds and grasses
    To sway in the breeze.

    And sure she lived
    In growing things
    With no pain
    To laugh in sunshine
    And dance in rain.
    Remembrance

    To wander through this living world
    And leave uncut the roses
    Is to remember fragrance where
    The flower no scent encloses.
    A Northeast Storm

    It might not come amiss, dear Austin, to have a tiding or two
    Concerning our state and feelings. Our state is pretty comfortable
    And our feelings are somewhat solemn. We are rather a crestfallen
    Company, what with the sighing wind, the sobbing rain, and
    The whining of Nature

    We are enjoying this evening what is called a ‘northeast
    Storm’ – a little north of east in case you are pretty
    Definite. Father thinks it’s ‘amazin’ raw,’ and I’m half disposed
    To think that he’s in the right about it, though I keep pretty
    Dark and don’t say much about it!

    Vinnie is at the instrument, humming a pensive air concerning
    A young lady who thought she was ‘almost there.’ Vinnie seems
    Much grieved, and I really suppose I ought to betake myself to
    Weeping; I’m pretty sure that I shall if she don’t abate her
    Singing
    Death of an Old Seaman

    We buried him high on a windy hill,
    But his soul went out to sea.
    I know, for I heard, when all was still,
    His sea-soul say to me:

    Put no tombstone at my head,
    For here I do not make my bed.
    Strew no flowers on my grave,
    I’ve gone back to the wind and wave.
    Do not, do not weep for me,
    For I am happy with the sea.
    Amore è bandito

    Amore è bandito,
    amanti su, su.
    È fatto un editto
    ch’Amor non sia più.

    Forniti gl’amori
    l’inganno e la frode,
    ah, ah, più non s’ode
    tormenti e rancori:
    il caso è spedito.

    Amore è bandito…

    Chimere al cervello,
    al cuor gelosie,
    ah, ah, passioni, pazzie
    son gite al bordello:
    il caso è spedito.

    Amore è bandito…

    Speranza e desio,
    querele, sospiri,
    singhiozzi, martiri
    sen vanno all’obblio:
    il caso è spedito.

    Amore è bandito…

    Ognun si conforte,
    rallegresi il core
    ch’il bando d’Amore
    bandit’ ha la morte:
    il caso è spedito.

    Amore è bandito,
    amanti su, su.
    È fatto un editto
    ch’Amor non sia più.

    		 Love is banished

    Love is banished –
    Up, lovers up!
    An edict has been decreed
    That love is no more.

    Deception and fraud
    Are over and done for the lovers.
    Ah, ah, torments and grudges
    no longer to be heard:
    The case is decided.

    Love is banished…

    Foolish hopes in the head,
    jealousy in the heart,
    passion, madness
    are thrown in the trash:
    The case is decided.

    Love is banished…

    Hope and desire,
    complaints, sighs
    sobs, suffering,
    all gone to hell:
    The case is decided.

    Love is banished…

    Everyone take comfort,
    cheer your heart
    for Cupid’s banishment
    has banished death:
    The case is decided.

    Love is banished.
    Up, lovers up.
    An edict has been decreed
    That love is no more.
    Love Let the Wind Cry… How I Adore Thee

    Love let the wind cry
    On the dark mountain,
    Bending the ash trees
    And the tall hemlocks
    With the great voice of
    Thunderous legions,
    How I adore thee.
    Let the horse torrent
    In the blue canyon,
    Murmuring mightily
    Out of the gray mist
    Of primal chaos
    Cease not proclaiming
    How I adore thee.

    Let the long rhythm
    Of crunching rollers,
    Breaking and bursting
    On the white seaboard
    Titan and tireless,
    Tell, while the world stands,
    How I adore thee.

    Love, let the clear call
    Of the tree cricket,
    Frailest of creatures,
    Green as the young grass,
    Mark with his trilling
    Resonant bell-note,
    How I adore thee.

    But, more than all sounds,
    Surer, serener,
    Fuller of passion
    And exultation,
    Let the hushed whisper

    In thine own heart say,
    How I adore thee.

     

    Sueños de Esperanza – Priscilla Salisbury

    Sunday, December 6 at 5 pm (Eastern)

    (debut of prerecorded recital)

    Sueños de Esperanza (Songs of Hope)

    Priscilla Salisbury, soprano, with Teruhiko Toda, piano
    Texts of Maria Marroquin set by composer Henry Mollicone

    PROGRAM NOTES by Priscilla Salisbury

    My recital consists of a single short cycle of songs: Sueños de Esperanza (Dreams of Hope) by Henry Mollicone.  The set consists of four stories of immigrant women for soprano and piano accompaniment, with texts by Maria Marroquin.

    “These songs were composed for a benefit event held by DAY WORKERS OF MOUNTAIN VIEW, a strong organization that serves immigrants in Northern California. Having visited their offices, I was very impressed with the range of programs they provide for immigrants, and the personal commitment of their director, Maria Marroquin.

    Maria interviewed four women, and transcribed their true stories into poems which I have set to music. The stories have a common tread that suggests the difficulties and painful experiences of immigration in our society. It is our hope that the stories of these brave women help to raise awareness of this important issue.”

    —Henry Mollicone

    The American dream of four immigrant women often centers around trying to build a better life for their family.  Unfortunately, the reality often includes being torn between home and a better life.  Their stories resonate with me in my own immigrant experience. I appreciate, now, what I have and the sacrifices my parents have made for my family.

    I am an immigrant living in this country for 25 years and I’ve been a citizen for about 7 of those years. It was a very long and challenging process moving to a new country, learning a new language and culture and not feeling like I belonged. I can now confidently say that this is my home and I have a voice for all immigrants who come to this country in search of a better life. I connect with the stories of these four women and have shared common emotions and concerns at some point in my life. I hope these pieces can bring comfort to the oppressed and bring awareness to the heedless. 

    Song synopses:

    Alicia — She came from Tonatico where her life was filled with hunger, burdens and sad awakenings. When she became a mother she wanted the best for her kids so she moved to the States to allow them to pursue their dreams of being a doctor and a professional athlete. 

    Lilia — Her father died, leaving behind fourteen children. Going to school during the week and working during weekends to put food on the table. She fell in love, married and had a child. They fled north to have a better life, but after three years her husband left them. Her heart tells her to go back to the motherland, but her reason tells her to stay here and work. Either way her daughter is her strength. 

    Raquel — She is twenty years old and a mother of five. She left to the north to send money to her children in hopes of one day being with them again. She survived crossing the border by thinking of her kids. After working as a babysitter, caregiver and house cleaner she was able to bring them to this land. Drugs, gangs and alcohol got the best of her. She’s now old, alone and afraid of living. If she stays her life is not better without papers, she’s just a shadow in the dark night.

    Maria — She left her son, her only source of life-energy, in Oaxaca, moving to the north to provide a better life for him.  She assures herself of this over and over to justify her stay here. However, the doubt creeps in — should she return to Oaxaca to give her son love or should she stay here to provide food for him? She pleads to God to stop division between families at the border. She asks for His presence to repair so much damage.

    TEXTS/TRANSLATIONS:

    Alicia

    Tonatico, mi dulce
    pueblo donde nací,
    De una familia grande
    como mis anhelos.
    Tonatico, la cuna de mis sueños,
    Mi familia, lo mejor de mis recuerdos.
    Mi niñez huyó espantada
    por el hambre.
    La adolescencia me vistió
    de responsabilidades.
    La vida me cubrió de
    deberes grises, Y tristes
    despertares de continuo.Llegó el amor a Tonatico,
    ese amor que aun me mantiene viva,
    Ese amor que me hizo
    desafiar todo peligro,
    Ese amor que me inspiró
    a perseguir nuevas estrellas,
    Y me trajo hasta aquí
    Y me hizo madre.

    Tonatico, Tonatico
    cuna de mi vida.
    Tonatico, Tonatico
    nido de mi amor.
    Dos semillas germinadas, mi constante
    Inspiración nuestros dos hijos son.

    Nuestros hijos son
    nuestra bendición.
    Protegerlos, que no
    sientan ni un dolor,
    Que estudien, que prosperen,
    Es nuestra importante primer misión.

    Ella quiere ser doctora,
    El, atleta estrella.
    Pido a dios nos ilumine,
    Para ayudarles sus sueños a lograr.
    Eso es todo lo que pido.

    		 Alicia

    Tonatico, my sweet
    hometown, where I was born
    to a family as large
    as my longings.
    Tonatico, the cradle of my dreams,
    My family, the best of my memories.
    My childhood fled,
    scared off by hunger.
    Adolescence burdened
    me with responsibilities.
    Life covered me with gray,
    drab duties and continuous
    sad awakenings.Love arrived at Tonatico,
    this love that keeps me living,
    This love that made me
    challenge all danger,
    This love that inspired
    me to pursue new stars,
    And brought me here,
    making me a mother.

    Tonatico, Tonatico,
    cradle of my life.
    Tonatico, Tonatico,
    nest of my love.
    Two planted seeds of constant
    Inspiration are our two sons.

    Our children are
    our blessing.
    To protect them so that
    they don’t feel any pain,
    That they study, that they prosper
    Is our most important mission.

    She wants to be a doctor,
    He, a star athlete.
    I ask God to illuminate us,
    To help them achieve their dreams.
    This is all that I ask.
    Maria

    Catorce huérfanos dejó
    mi padre al morir.
    Fue muy duro, fue muy triste
    En la semana la escuela;
    Sábados y domingos
    Trabajar para comer.
    Me enamoré y me entregué.
    Fui feliz por poco tiempo.
    En mi vientre el amor germinó.
    Buscando una mejor vida
    Para esa vida en mi vientre,
    Al país del norte huí.
    Sin a mi madre adiós decir.

    Mi niña nació, pensé
    todo era perfecto.
    Mi niña, su padre y yo!

    Tres años duró mi dicha.
    Sí, el nos abandonó,
    Diciendo que volvería.
    Y aun esperándolo estoy!

    Mi niña lo ama,
    lo espera aun también.
    No tengo corazón
    de quitarle esa esperanza.
    Si casi nada le doy.
    Al menos, pienso
    siquiera tiene ese anhelo.

    Debes volver
    a tu patria,
    Exige mi corazón.
    Quédate aquí y trabaja,
    Aconseja la razón.

    Total, irse o quedarse,
    Si estoy con ella da igual.
    Ella es mi orgullo y mi fuerza.
    Ella es principio y final.

    		 Maria

    Fourteen orphans remained
    after father passed away.
    It was very hard, it was very sad
    In school during weekdays;
    Saturdays and Sundays
    we worked for food.
    I fell in love and gave myself away.
    I was happy for a while.
    In my womb our love blossomed.
    Looking for a better future
    for the life I carried inside,
    I came to this land.
    I left my mom without a goodbye.

    My daughter was born
    and I thought all was perfect.
    My daughter, her father and me!

    My happiness lasted three years.
    Yes, he abandoned us,
    Promising to come back.
    Still, I’m waiting for him!

    My daughter loves him,
    and waits for him too.
    I don’t have the heart
    to take away her hope.
    I almost can’t provide for her.
    At least, I know
    she still maintains the desire.

    You should return
    to your country,
    my heart says loudly.
    Stay here longer and work,
    My reason advises.

    After all, to stay or to leave,
    If she is with me it is the same.
    She is my pride and my strength.
    She’s the beginning and the end.
    Raquel

    Veinte años y
    madre de cinco.
    Veinte años y lo
    único más grande
    Que mi pena y mi miedo
    Era mi responsabilidad
    de mantenerlos.Abusada de continuo
    por el cobarde,
    Agobiada por el hambre
    y por el peso del dolor,
    Decidí al norte venir.

    Conociendo lo difícil del viaje,
    que con niños cuesta más.
    A ganar dinero voy,
    por ellos mandaré cuando
    Dios me lo permita.
    Y llorando, dije adiós.

    El cruce de la frontera
    fue una horrible pesadilla.
    Las fuerzas me abandonaron
    y tres veces me desmayé.
    Solo el recuerdo de mis niños,
    me puso de nuevo en pie.

    En fin, limpiando casas,
    cuidando niños y enfermos,
    Trabajé, junté, y me los traje.
    Oh mi Dios, al fin feliz!
    Mas la ilusion duró poco.

    Pandillas, alcohol y drogas
    ingresaron a mi vida.
    Ahora sola, triste y vieja,
    tengo miedo de vivir.
    Si regreso me espera su venganza.

    Si me quedo, no es
    mejor mi porvenir,
    sin seguro, sin licencia,
    Sin papeles, solo soy una
    sombra más en la noche oscura.

    		 Raquel

    Twenty years old and
    mother of five.
    Twenty years old and
    the only thing bigger
    Than my sadness and my fear
    Was my responsibility
    to feed them.Abused continuously
    by the coward,
    I was hungry and
    depressed all the time.
    I decided to come to the north.

    But I knew the risk of this trip
    was even riskier with kids.
    I’m going to make money
    and I’ll send for them
    when God wills.
    Crying, I said goodbye.

    Crossing the border
    was a horrible nightmare.
    My strength abandoned me
    and I fainted three times.
    Only the memory of my children
    brought me to my feet again.

    Finally, cleaning houses,
    baby sitting and caregiving,
    I was able to bring them.
    Oh my God, happy at last!
    But it was just a brief illusion.

    Gangs, alcohol and drugs
    came into my life.
    Now alone, old and sad,
    I’m afraid of living.
    If I return, his vengeance awaits.

    If I stay, my future is
    no better without a
    social security number or a license.
    Without papers, I’m just one
    more shadow in the dark night.
    Maria

    Cuando dejé Oaxaca,
    Una parte de mi se quedó allá –
    La que me da energía
    Por la que sueño alegrías,
    La que me mantiene viva,
    La que me detiene aquí,
    La que me conserva enhiesta.
    A pesar de tanta soledad y tristeza –
    Mi hijo,
    mi niño amado,
    mío solo mío,
    Al que dejé en mi Oaxaca
    por amarlo tanto así.
    Lo dejé para labrarle una vida
    con mis sueños,
    Construirle un futuro
    con mis manos.

    Lo repito y lo repito hasta
    grabarlo en mi mente.
    Sin embargo
    la duda siempre conmigo,
    Sigo aquí
    o a mi Oaxaca regreso?
    Le doy comida o amor?

    Pido a Dios que me ilumine
    Y a todas las madres del mundo.
    Pido a Dios
    que me lo cuide
    Y a todos los hijos
    que sin madre están.

    Pido a Dios que una frontera
    No divida más familias;
    Exijo su intervención
    Para parar tanto llanto,
    Parar ya tanta muerte.

    Pido que se haga presente
    Que repare tanto daño.
    El es todo poderoso.
    El también tiene mamá.

    		 Maria

    When I left Oaxaca,
    A part of me stayed there –
    The part that gives me energy
    For dreaming happy dreams,
    The part that holds my life together,
    The part that keeps me here,
    The part that keeps me upright
    Through so much loneliness and grief –
    My child,
    my beloved son,
    mine alone,
    Whom I left in Oaxaca
    because I love him so.
    left to give him a life
    as in my dreams,
    To build him a future
    with my hands.

    I repeat it and repeat it
    until it sticks in my mind.
    Still the question
    is always with me:
    To stay here
    or return to Oaxaca?
    To give him food or love?

    I ask the Lord to enlighten me
    And all the mothers in the world.
    I ask for Him
    to take care of my son
    And for all the children
    who are motherless.

    I ask the Lord that the border
    Not divide more families;
    I plead for His help
    To stop so much crying
    And stop so much death.

    I ask for His presence
    To repair so much damage.
    He is the almighty.
    He also has a mother.

    From Her Voice – Diana Charlop

    Wednesday, December 2 at 7 pm (Eastern)

    From Her Voice

    Diana Charlop, soprano, with Chris Fecteau, piano
    Songs of Amy Beach, Florence Price, and Clara Schumann

    PROGRAM NOTES by Diana Charlop

    My recital ‘The Nature of Her Voice’ celebrates strong women who’ve created music and art through the last 100 years. Their message speaks to me: that women are to be empowered and heard.  By being mindful of these composers and their works, I hope that we can create the space for female composers, artists, and performers to be heard. These three women helped to pave the way for other women to share their art, and we can continue to work towards equality and equal representation to allow women the space that they have always deserved.

    Three songs of Clara Schumann on poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke
     – Er ist gekommen in Sturm und Regen (Op.12 No. 2)
     – Liebst du um Schöheit (Op. 12 No. 4)
     – Warum willst du and’re fragen (Op. 12 No. 11)

    For Christmas in 1841, Clara Schumann had given her husband Robert a Christmas gift of some songs that she had written herself.  This inspired Robert to want to collaborate with her on a songbook –  : “The idea of producing together with Clara a book of songs inspired me to this work. From Monday to Monday nine songs from Rückert’s Liebesfrühling were written, in which I think again I have found a special voice.”  He urged Clara to write songs to the three texts “Warum willst du and’re fragen,” “Er ist gekommen in Sturm und Regen,” and “Liebst du um Schönheit.”  The songs were published in the fall of 1841 and show that Robert viewed Clara as an equal, encouraging her to showcase her writing and her voice in this work.  In Clara’s three Ruckert settings, she emphasizes her independent and strong perspective onto both character and storyline. 

    Three songs of Amy Beach on poetry of Robert Browning
     – The Year’s at the Spring
     – Ah, Love, But a Day
     – I Send My Heart Up To Thee

    Amy Beach (1867 – 1944) is sometimes referred to as a “modern” Clara Schumann. She writes beautifully for both singer and pianist individually, and in how they play off of one another. Her clear and evocative score markings indicate her understanding of the voice. To these texts written by Robert Browning, Amy Beach brings a complex palate juxtaposing lightness and levity with darkness and despair.

    Three songs of Florence Price
     – An April Day (text by Joseph S. Cotter, Jr.)
     – Night (text by Louise C. Wallace)
     – The Glory of the Day Was in her Face (text by James Weldon Johnson)

    Florence Price (1887 – 1953) is one of the best-known female African American composers, well-established as a composer with a multitude of symphonies, concertos and songs. She is the first female African American composer to have her symphony performed at a major American orchestra. The present trio of songs features texts by two male poets and one female poet. One of the lines that touches me most in the poetry of this program is found here, “Sufficient is it just to live.”  (Joseph Seamon Cotter, Jr.) Especially in this time,  this speaks to gratitude for the simple act of living.

    TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS:

    Er ist gekommen in Sturm und Regen

    Er ist gekommen
    In Sturm und Regen,
    Ihm schlug beklommen
    Mein Herz entgegen.
    Wie konnt’ ich ahnen,
    Das seine Bahnen
    sich einen sollten meinen Wegen.

    Er ist gekommen
    In Sturm und Regen,
    Er hat genommen
    Mein Herz verwegen.
    Nahm er das meine?
    Nahm ich das seine?
    Die beiden kamen sich entgegen.

    Er ist gekommen
    In Sturm und Regen,
    Nun ist gekommen
    Des Frühlings Segen.
    Der Freund zieht weiter,
    Ich seh’ es heiter,
    denn er bleibt mein auf allen Wegen.

    		 He came in storm and rain,

    He came
    in storm and rain,
    my anxious heart
    beat against his.
    how could I have known
    that his path
    itself should be my way?.

    He came
    in storm and rain,
    he boldly
    seized my heart.
    Did he seize mine?
    Did I seize his?
    Both drew near to each other.

    He came
    in storm and rain,
    Now spring’s blessing
    has come.
    My friend travels on,
    I watch with cheer,
    for he remains mine, on any road.
    Liebst du um Schönheit, o nicht mich liebe!

    Liebst du um Schönheit,
    o nicht mich liebe!
    Liebe die Sonne,
    sie trägt ein gold’nes Haar!

    Liebst du um Jugend,
    o nicht mich liebe!
    Liebe den Frühling,
    der jung ist jedes Jahr!

    Liebst du um Schätze,
    o nicht mich liebe!
    Liebe die Meerfrau,
    sie hat viel Perlen klar!

    Liebst du um Liebe,
    o ja, mich liebe!
    liebe mich immer,
    dich lieb’ ich immerdar!

    		 If you love for beauty, oh, do not love me!

    If you love for beauty,
    oh, do not love me!
    Love the sun,
    she has golden hair!

    If you love for youth,
    oh, do not love me!
    Love the spring,
    which is young every year!

    If you love for treasure,
    oh, do not love me!
    Love the mermaid –
    she has many clear pearls!

    If you love for love,
    oh yes, do love me!
    Love me ever,
    I’ll love you evermore!
    Warum willst du and’re fragen

    Warum willst du and’re fragen,
    Die’s nicht meinen treu mit dir?
    Glaube nicht, als was dir sagen
    Diese beiden Augen hier!

    Glaube nicht den fremden Leuten,
    Glaube nicht dem eignen Wahn;
    Nicht mein Tun auch sollst du deuten,
    Sondern sieh die Augen an!

    Schweigt die Lippe deinen Fragen,
    Oder zeugt sie gegen mich?
    Was auch meine Lippen sagen,
    Sieh mein Aug’, ich liebe dich!

    		 Why will you question others?

    Why will you question others,
    who are not faithful to you?
    Believe nothing but what
    both these eyes say!

    Believe not strange people;
    believe not peculiar fancies;
    nor should you interpret my actions,
    but look in these eyes!

    Are my lips silent to your questions,
    or do they testify against me?
    Whatever my lips may say,
    look at my eyes: I love you!
     The Year’s at the Spring

    The year’s at the spring,
    And day’s at the morn;
    Morning’s at seven;
    The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d;
    The lark’s on the wing;
    The snail’s on the thorn;
    God’s in His heaven–
    All’s right with the world!
    Ah, Love, But a Day

    Ah, Love, but a day,
    And the world has changed!
    The sun’s away,
    And the bird estranged;
    The wind has dropped,
    And the sky’s deranged;
    Summer has stopped.

    Look in my eyes!
    Wilt thou change too?
    Should I fear surprise?
    Shall I find aught new
    In the old and dear,
    In the good and true,
    With the changing year?

    Thou art a man,
    But I am thy love.
    For the lake, its swan;
    For the dell, its dove;
    And for thee — (oh, haste!)
    Me, to bend above,
    Me, to hold embraced.
    I Send My Heart Up To Thee

    I send my heart up to thee, all my heart
    In this my singing,
    For the stars help me, and the sea, and the sea bears part;

    The very night is clinging
    Closer to Venice’ streets to leave on space
    Above me, whence thy face
    May light my joyous heart to thee, to thee its dwelling place.
    On such a day as this,

    On such a day as this I think,
    On such a day as this,
    When earth and sky and nature’s world
    Are clad in April’s bliss;

    And balmy zephyrs gently waft
    Upon your cheek a kiss;
    Sufficient is it just to live
    On such a day as this.
    Night

    Night comes, a Madonna clad in scented blue.
    Rose red her mouth and deep her eyes,
    She lights her stars, and turns to where,
    Beneath her silver lamp the moon,
    Upon a couch of shadow lies
    A dreamy child,
    The wearied Day.
    The glory of the day was in her face,

    The glory of the day was in her face,
    The beauty of the night was in her eyes.
    And over all her loveliness, the grace
    Of Morning blushing in the early skies.

    And in her voice, the calling of the dove;
    Like music of a sweet, melodious part.
    And in her smile, the breaking light of love;
    And all the gentle virtues in her heart.

    And now the glorious day, the beauteous night,
    The birds that signal to their mates at dawn,
    To my dull ears, to my tear-blinded sight
    Are one with all the dead, since she is gone.

    Uplifting a Struggling Spirit – Christa Dalmazio, soprano

    December 203rd, 7pm (EST)

    Uplifting a Struggling Spirit

    Christa Dalmazio, soprano, with Chris Fecteau, piano
    Songs of Andre Previn, Samuel Barber, Joaquin Rodrigo, Gaetano Donizetti, Fanny Hensel, and Richard Strauss

    PROGRAM NOTES:

    The Coronavirus pandemic caught all of us off guard last winter, and caused sudden shock with the travel bans, lengthy lockdowns, and so much grief from sickness and death. The intense physical, emotional, and spiritual suffering we’ve all been enduring unites us around the world. We hope that this recital can provide a respite from the stress of our daily lives, and we look forward to sharing these poignant and energizing stories with you. 

    CD

    We open with the first song from a set by Andre Previn, with the text by Emily Dickinson, As Imperceptibly as Grief. This eloquent poetry is filled with images of light, darkness, and nature being compared to human grief. There is such difficulty in describing what one feels like during the stages of grief which is a journey experienced uniquely by each individual. We can all relate to things in the beauty of nature,  such as the changing of the sun over the course of a day or the way the current guides a boat through water even without wind in its sails. The song concludes by urging those of us who are grieving that this season will pass, and that healing results in feeling the beauty of peace.

    The next three selections are from The Hermit Songs, by Samuel Barber. The texts are attributed to 8th to 13th century Irish monks and scholars. The text of St. Ita’s Vision is attributed to a vision received by St. Ita of The Virgin Mary responding to the mission of God to bear the infant Jesus, and imagining the beauty of her life devoted to raising the savior. The Crucifixion portrays that event from the intimate perspective of his mother’s observation of  her son’s torture and death on the cross. Both songs drive home the gravity of a mother’s love for her child, and bring to mind memories of childhood through the life and death of one’s child. We’ve all been faced with the thought of our own mortality and the fleeting nature of this short life during this pandemic. The final song of this set is The Heavenly Banquet, a much more lighthearted text attributed to St. Brigid, the Irish patron Saint of beer! There is joy and hope in imagining all the people one may encounter when they reach Heaven, and all the celebration and beer drinking that could ensue.

    ¿De dónde venís, amore?  by Joaquin Rodrigo continues the pursuit of uplifting the spirit through a search for love.  There is still always love and light to be found in the little things and simplicity often overlooked throughout our busy days. The song concludes with the flirtatious spirit of confidence, knowing that love and joy can always be found if adamantly looked for.  The first of two Donizetti songs, L’amante spagnuolo, brings to life a thrilling story of the anticipated return of a lover on horseback.  The second song of the pair, La Zingara, tells the tale of a gypsy with psychic powers, who grew up frolicking with goats and dancing from village to village with her fellow gypsies. One day she experiences falling in love with the most handsome man she’s ever seen, and wishes that he would read her fortune as she’s reading his palm. The initial excitement of new love is often a source of high energy and anticipation for a joy-filled future. May we all connect through the joy and love of friendship and loved ones in support of each other as we proceed through this time. 

    The next song, Frühling, by Fanny Hensel, depicts joyful new beginnings and the renewal of nature. New life and love are in the air. The light of the moon and sounds of birdsong bring feelings of reassurance that this personal joy belongs to you!  The next German song, Die Nacht, by Richard Strauss reinforces this notion of the peaceful magic of night and the intimacy of feeling love through the beauty of nature.  The final Strauss selection, Amor, spins the story of mischievous Cupid wittingly tricking a shepherdess to fall in love through playful beguilement. The shepherdess throws caution to the wind as her heart catches on fire with the love of Cupid.  Just as her spirits were ultimately uplifted by the energetic and mischievous child of nature and love, we hope you will be captivated by the engaging retelling of these colorful stories and poetry! 

    TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS:

    As Imperceptibly as Grief  (Emily Dickinson)

    As imperceptibly as grief
    The summer lapsed away, —
    Too imperceptible, at last,
    To seem like perfidy.

    A quietness distilled,
    As twilight long begun,
    Or Nature, spending with herself
    Sequestered afternoon.

    The dusk drew earlier in,
    The morning foreign shone,
    A courteous, yet harrowing grace,
    As guest who would be gone.

    And thus, without a wing,
    Or service of a keel,
    Our summer made her light escape
    Into the beautiful.
    St. Ita’s Vision  (Saint Ita, trans. Chester Kallman)

    “I will take nothing from my Lord,” said she,
    “unless He gives me His Son from Heaven
    In the form of a Baby that I may nurse Him”.
    So that Christ came down to her
    in the form of a Baby and then she said:

    “Infant Jesus, at my breast,
    Nothing in this world is true
    Save, O tiny nursling, You.
    Infant Jesus at my breast,
    By my heart every night,
    You I nurse are not a churl
    But were begot on Mary the Jewess
    By Heaven’s light.

    Infant Jesus at my breast,
    What King is there but You who could
    Give everlasting good?
    Wherefore I give my food.
    Sing to Him, maidens, sing your best!
    There is none that has such right
    To your song as Heaven’s King
    Who every night
    Is Infant Jesus at my breast.”
    The Crucifixion  (8th – 13th c.  Irish, trans. Howard Mumford Jones)

    At the cry of the first bird
    They began to crucify Thee, O Swan!
    Never shall lament cease because of that.
    It was like the parting of day from night.
    Ah, sore was the suffering borne
    By the body of Mary’s Son,
    But sorer still to Him was the grief
    Which for His sake
    Came upon His Mother.
    The Heavenly Banquet  (8th -13th Irish, trans. Seán Proinsias Ó Faolái)

    I would like to have the men of Heaven in my own house;
    With vats of good cheer laid out for them.
    I would like to have the three Marys,
    Their fame is so great,
    I would like people from every corner of Heaven.
    I would like them to be cheerful in their drinking.
    I would like to have Jesus sitting here among them.
    I would like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.
    I would like to be watching Heaven’s family
    Drinking it through all eternity.
    ¿De dónde venís, amore?  (anonymous text)

    ¿De dónde venís, amore?
    Bien sé yo de dónde.
    ¿De dónde venís, amigo?
    Fuere yo testigo!
    ¡Ah!  Bien sé yo de dónde.

    		 Where do you come from, love?

    Where do you come from, love?
    I well know where.
    Where do you come from, friend?
    Be my witness!
    Ah!  I well know where.
    L’amante spagnuolo  (Leopoldo Tarantini)

    Corri destrier, deh, celere!
    Corri! La via divora!
    Recami accanto all’angelo
    Che la mia vita infiora.
    Deh, pria che l’alba in cielo
    Spanda il suo roseo velo,
    L’avverta il tuo nitrito
    Che il suo fedel tornò.

    E il volto a lei di giubilo
    Tu scintillar farai,
    E de’ suoi dì delizia,
    O mio destrier, sì, sarai.
    Verrà la man pudica
    A carezzarti amica,
    E men di te felice
    Io stesso allor sarò.

    		 The Spanish Lover

    Run warhorse, ah, hurry!
    Run!  Devour the path!
    Bring me to the angel
    Who makes my life blossom.
    Please, before dawn
    Spreads her rosy veil in the sky,
    May your neighing warn her
    That her faithful one will return.

    And you will make her face
    sparkle with jubilation
    And you shall be the delight of her days,
    O my horse.
    Her demure hand will come,
    To caress you, friend,
    And I myself
    will be less happy than you.
    La Zingara  (Carlo Guaita)

    Fra l’erbe cosparse di rorido gelo,
    coverta del solo gran manto del cielo,
    mia madre esultando la vita me diè.

    Fanciulla, sui greppi le capre emulai,
    per ville e cittadi, cresciuta, danzai,
    le dame lor palme distesero a me.
    La ra la.   Ah! la zingara.

    Io loro predissi le cose note,
    ne feci dolenti, ne feci beate,
    segreti conobbi di sdegno, d’amor.
    La ra la, etc.

    Un giorno la mano mi porse un donzello;
    mai visto non fummi garzone piu bello:
    oh! s’ei nella destra leggessimi il cor!

    		 The Gypsy

    In the grasses sprinkled with dewy frost,
    covered only by the great mantle of the sky,
    my mother, exulting, brought me to life.

    As a little girl I emulated the goats on their crags,
    growing up, I danced through villages and cities;
    Women held their palms out for me to read.
    La ra la.    Ah! The gypsy.

    I predicted to them things foretold,
    I made them sad, I made them blessed,
    I learned secrets of disdain, of love.
    La ra la, etc.

    One day a young man offered me his hand;
    I never saw a man so handsome:
    Oh! If only he were to read my heart in my hand!
    Frühling  (Joseph von Eichendorff)

    Über’m Garten durch die Lüfte
    Hör’ ich Wandervögel ziehn,
    Das bedeutet Frühlingsdüfte,
    Alles fängt schon an zu blühn.

    Jauchzen möcht’ ich, möchte weinen,
    Lenz und Liebe muß das sein!
    Alle Wunder wieder scheinen
    Mit dem Mondesglanz herein.

    Und der Mond, die Sterne sagen,
    Und in Träume rauscht der Hain,
    Und die Nachtigallen schlagen:
    Sie ist dein, ja sie ist dein!

    		 Spring

    Above the garden. through the air
    I hear migrating birds
    That means spring scents,
    Everything is already beginning to bloom.

    I want to shout, I want to cry
    That must be spring and love!
    All the wonders shine again
    In with the moonlight.

    And the moon, the stars say
    And the grove rustles in dreams,
    And the nightingales sing:
    She is yours, yes she is yours!
    Die Nacht  (Hermann von Gilm zu Rosenegg)

    Aus dem Walde tritt die Nacht,
    Aus den Bäumen schleicht sie leise,
    Schaut sich um im weitem Kreise,
    Nun gib acht.

    Alle Lichter dieser Welt,
    Alle Blumen, alle Farben
    Löscht sie aus und stiehlt die Garben
    Weg vom Feld.

    Alles nimmt sie, was nur hold,
    Nimmt das Silber weg des Stromes,
    Nimmt vom Kupferdach des Domes
    Weg das Gold.

    Ausgeplündert steht der Strauch,
    Rücke näher, Seel an Seele;
    O die Nacht, mir bangt, sie stehle
    Dich mir auch.

    		 The Night

    Night steps out of the woods,
    And sneaks softly out of the trees,
    Looks about in a wide circle,
    Now beware.

    All the lights of this earth,
    All flowers, all colors
    It extinguishes, and steals the sheaves
    From the field.

    It takes everything that is dear,
    Takes the silver from the stream,
    Takes away, from the cathedral’s copper roof,
    The gold.

    The shrubs stand plundered,
    Draw nearer, soul to soul;
    Oh, I fear the night will also steal
    You from me.
    Amor  (Clemens Brentano)

    An dem Feuer saß das Kind
    Amor, Amor
    Und war blind;
    Mit dem kleinen Flügel fächelt
    In die Flammen er und lächelt,
    Fächle, lächle, schlaues Kind.

    Ach, der Flügel brennt dem Kind!
    Amor, Amor
    Läuft geschwind!
    “O wie ihn die Glut durchpeinet!”
    Flügelschlagend laut er weinet;
    In der Hirtin Schoß entrinnt
    Hülfeschreiend das schlaue Kind.

    Und die Hirtin hilft dem Kind,
    Amor, Amor
    Bös und blind.
    Hirtin, sieh, dein Herz entbrennet,
    Hast den Schelmen nicht gekennet.
    Sieh, die Flamme wächst geschwinde.
    Hüt dich vor dem schlauen Kind!

    		 Cupid

    By the fire sat the child
    Cupid, Cupid
    and was blind;
    with his little wings he fans
    into the flames and smiles;
    Fan, smile, sly child!

    Ah, the child’s wing is burning!
    Cupid, Cupid
    runs quickly.
    O how the burning hurts him deeply!
    Beating his wings, he weeps loudly;
    To the shepherdess’s lap runs,
    crying for help, the sly child.

    And the shepherdess helps the child,
    Cupid, Cupid,
    naughty and blind.
    Shepherdess, look, your heart is burning;
    You did not recognize the rascal.
    See, the flame is growing quickly.
    Save yourself, from the sly child!

    Into the Night – Christina Esser, mezzo soprano

    Sunday, November 15th, 5pm (EST)

    Into the Night

    Christina Esser, mezzo soprano, with Chris Fecteau, piano
    Songs of Alma Mahler, Johannes Brahms, Amy Beach, Franz Schubert, and Manuel de Falla

    PROGRAM NOTES:

    I always hope to continue growing by drawing on life’s lessons, especially during difficult times. Though this quarantine has presented many challenges, the solitude and introspection from isolation has also allowed me to explore different facets within myself and find more active and sincere ways I can be helpful in fighting for change.  

    Darkness can represent transformation if one chooses to perceive it as an opportunity for growth rather than as a purely menacing, despairing force. Though wandering through the dark unknown can be terrifying, it is necessary, for light cannot exist with darkness. I believe there is always a lesson to learn from this duality, and it has been a staple of my growth and desire to continue transforming through change. 

    The focus on darkness in this recital is symbolic to these aspects of transformation and growth and will provide a wanderers journey through the night.

    CE

    PROGRAM

    Alma Mahler: Two songs
       – Die Stille Stadt is the beginning of a journey into the unknown. After witnessing an impenetrable darkness that engulfs the city, the “dreaded wanderer” perceives a gleam of light and hope. The transforming tone and moods foreshadow the entirety of what night brings throughout the program; a journey from calm peaceful stillness, to chaos, heartache, faith, growth, ultimately ending with acceptance.
       – Laue Sommernacht (A Mild Summer Night) continues the wander narrative of the previous song. The gleam of hope at the end of Die Stille Stadt gives way to two lovers who have found each other deep within the darkness of  a starless calm night. The quest and anxiety through the darkness has led them to this beautiful unity.

    Johannes Brahms
        – Von ewige liebe begins with a boy accompanying his love through a dark, quiet forest. After a peaceful introduction, the mood transforms into a tempest of doubt and chaos. The boy expresses insecurities over the maiden’s perception of him and questions her sincerity. The maiden’s calm voice pierces through the dark and stormy clouds with faith and reassurance, as the storm dissolves into a sweet resolution of loving contentment.

    Amy Beach: 2 Songs
        – In the Twilight sets an eerie, serious tone as the night foreshadows menacing and difficult times ahead. The song alternates between anxious flurries in the piano, and calm, optimistic vocal lines mirroring childlike wonder and innocence. These alternating motives ultimately resolve in emptiness. The journey leaves us in despairing silence.
        – Night song at Amalfi – After a tempestuous ocean of uncertainty, there is now only silence.  The wanderer experiences heartache and pain, calling out to the night for help.  She calls to the ocean and stars, but is still only answered with silence and despair in the empty void of the night.

    Franz Schubert: 2 Songs
    – Die Sterne (The Stars) provide a loving answer to the anxious wanderer below.  The stars “practice many a healing duty in silence” as they  “gently stare at the silent sufferer in the face, and wipe their tears with silver light”.  The stars provide warm hope and reassurance of love and light to the wanderer; reassurance that everything will be alright.
        – Nacht und Träume is a holy dream arriving after a this blessing from the stars.  This sweet dream provides acceptance, beauty, and healing, and prepares the wanderer for the return of light into the newly approaching day.

    Manuel de Falla
        – Madres todas las noches provides the finale of our program’s journey, embodying the transformative power of both darkness and light in the form of joy and sadness. Though the darkness might feel despairing and eternal, love’s light will always find the most hopeless of wanderers, guiding them and transforming them into the new day. 

    As we continue through this incredibly dark and uncertain period of time, light can always be found in the darkest of places.  Light pierces the darkness with courage and love.  As we persevere, we can inspire those around us with the most powerful light we all carry within: the light of love.

    TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS:

    Die Stille Stadt (Richard Dehmel)

    Liegt eine Stadt im Tale,
    Ein blasser Tag vergeht.
    Es wird nicht lange dauern mehr,
    Bis weder Mond noch Sterne
    Nur Nacht am Himmel steht.

    Von allen Bergen drücken
    Nebel auf die Stadt,
    Es dringt kein Dach, noch Hof noch Haus,
    Kein Laut aus ihrem Rauch heraus,
    Kaum Türme nach und Brücken.

    Doch als der Wandrer graute,
    Da ging ein Lichtlein auf im Grund
    Und aus dem Rauch und Nebel
    Begann ein Lobgesang
    Aus Kindermund.

    		 The Silent Town

    A town lies in the valley;
    A pale day fades.
    It won’t be long now,
    Until neither moon nor stars
    But only night will remain in the sky.

    From all the mountains
    Fog pushes down onto the town,
    No roof, no courtyard, no house,
    Not even a sound penetrates the mist,
    Hardly even a tower or a bridge.

    Yet when the wanderer worried,
    There appeared a little gleam upon the ground
    And through the smoke and fog,
    A song of praise began
    From a child’s mouth.
    Laue Sommernacht

    Laue Sommernacht: am Himmel
    Stand kein Stern, im weiten Walde
    Suchten wir uns tief im Dunkel,
    Und wir fanden uns.

    Fanden uns im weiten Walde
    In der Nacht, der sternenlosen,
    Hielten staunend uns im Arme
    In der dunklen Nacht.

    War nicht unser ganzes Leben
    Nur ein Tappen, nur ein Suchen?
    Da in seine Finsternisse
    Liebe, fiel Dein Licht.

    		 Mild Summer Night

    Mild summer night: in the sky
    No stars rise in the vast woods
    We searched for each other deep in the darkness
    And found one another.

    We found ourselves in the vast wood
    In the night, the starless night,
    In amazement we embraced each other
    In the dark night.

    Was not our entire life
    Only a search, only a quest?
    There In this darkness
    Love, fell your light.
    Von ewiger Liebe (Hoffman von Fallersleben

    Dunkel, wie dunkel in Wald und in Feld!
    Abend schon ist es, nun schweiget die Welt.

    Nirgend noch Licht und nirgend noch Rauch,
    Ja, und die Lerche sie schweiget nun auch.

    Kommt aus dem Dorfe der Bursche heraus,
    Gibt das Geleit der Geliebten nach Haus,

    Führt sie am Weidengebüsche vorbei,
    Redet so viel und so mancherlei:

    „Leidest du Schmach und betrübest du dich,
    Leidest du Schmach von andern um mich,

    Werde die Liebe getrennt so geschwind,
    Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind.

    Scheide mit Regen und scheide mit Wind,
    Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind.“

    Spricht das Mägdelein, Mägdelein spricht:
    „Unsere Liebe sie trennet sich nicht!

    Fest ist der Stahl und das Eisen gar sehr,
    Unsere Liebe ist fester noch mehr.

    Eisen und Stahl, man schmiedet sie um,
    Unsere Liebe, wer wandelt sie um?

    Eisen und Stahl, sie können zergehn,
    Unsere Liebe muß ewig bestehn!“

    		 Of Eternal Love

    Dark, how dark in Forest and in Field!
    Already evening, and the world is now silent.

    Nowhere a light and nowhere smoke,
    Yes, and the lark is now silent too.

    Out of the village comes the lad,
    Accompanying his sweetheart  home,

    He leads her past the willows,be
    Speaking so much and of so many things:

    If you suffer shame and sorrow,
    Shame for what others think of me,

    Then may our lovesundered swiftly,
    As quickly as we were united.

    Let us depart in wind and rain,
    As quickly as we were united.

    The girl speaks, the girl says:
    Our love cannot be sundered!

    Steel is strong and iron even more so,
    Our love is even stronger.

    Iron and steel can be melted down,
    Our love, whoever can transform it?

    Iron and steel, they can rust away,
    Our love must always remain!
    In the Twilight

    The twilight is sad and cloudy,
    The wind blows wild and free,
    And like the wings of sea-birds
    Flash the white caps of the sea.

    But in the fisherman’s cottage
    There shines a ruddier light,
    And a little face at the window
    Peers out into the night.

    Close, close it is pressed to the window,
    As if those childish eyes
    Were looking into the darkness,
    To see some form arise.

    And a woman’s waving shadow
    Is passing to and fro,
    Now rising to the ceiling,
    Now bowing and bending low.

    What tale do the roaring ocean,
    And the night-wind, bleak and wild,
    As they beat at the crazy casement,
    Tell to that little child?

    And why do the roaring ocean,
    And the night-wind, wild and bleak,
    As they beat at the heart of the mother,
    Drive the color from her cheek?

    		  
    Night at Almalfi (Teasdale)

    I asked the heaven of stars
    What I should give my love—
    It answered me with silence,
    Silence above.

    I asked the darkened sea
    Down where the fishes go—
    It answered me with silence,
    Silence below.

    Oh, I could give him weeping,
    Or I could give him song—
    But how can I give silence
    My whole life long?

    		  
    Die Sterne (Gottfried von Leitner)

    Wie blitzen die Sterne so hell durch die Nacht!
    Bin oft schon darüber vom Schlummer erwacht.
    Doch schelt’ ich die lichten Gebilde drum nicht,
    Sie üben im Stillen manch heilsame Pflicht.

    Sie wallen hoch oben in Engelgestalt,
    Sie leuchten dem Pilger durch Heiden und Wald.
    Sie schweben als Boten der Liebe umher,
    Und tragen oft Küsse weit über das Meer.

    Sie blicken dem Dulder recht mild ins Gesicht,
    Und säumen die Tränen mit silbernem Licht.
    Und weisen von Gräbern gar tröstlich und hold
    Uns hinter das Blaue mit Fingern von Gold.

    So sei denn gesegnet du strahlige Schar!
    Und leuchte mir lange noch freundlich und klar!
    Und wenn ich einst liebe, seid hold dem Verein,
    Und euer Geflimmer lasst Segen uns sein!

    		 The Stars

    How the stars glitter so brightly through the night!
    I have often been awakened by them from slumber
    But I don’t scold the shining entities for that,
    They practice many a healing task in silence.

    They undulate high above in angelic forms
    They light the pilgrim’s way through heath and and forest.
    They hover around like harbingers of love,
    And often carry kisses far across the sea.

    They gently stare in the face of the silent sufferer,
    And wipe away his tears with silver light.
    They gently, comfortingly direct us from the grave,
    beyond the blue sky with fingers of gold.

    So now be blessed, you radiant mass!
    Long may you shine on me again, friendly, clear light.
    And if one day I fall in love, may your grace fall upon this union,
    And let your twinkling be a blessing upon us.
    Nacht und Träume (Collin)

    Heil’ge Nacht, du sinkest nieder;
    Nieder wallen auch die Träume,
    Wie dein Mondlicht durch die Räume,
    Durch der Menschen stille Brust.
    Die belauschen sie mit Lust;
    Rufen, wenn der Tag erwacht:
    Kehre wieder, heil’ge Nacht!
    Holde Träume, kehret wieder!

    		 Night and Dreams

    Holy night, you descend below;
    Dreams, also float down,
    like your moonlight through the room,
    Through the calm heart of Man.
    They listen with delight;
    Calling out when the day awakens:
    Come back, holy night!
    Graceful dream, come back!
    Preludios (Trueba)

    Madre, todas las noches junto a mis rejas
    Canta un joven llorando indiferencia:
    “Quiéreme, niña,
    y al pie de los altares séras bendita.”

    Esta dulce tonada tal poder tiene
    Que me pone al oirla triste y alegre;
    ¿Di por qué causa entristecen y alegran
    estas tonadas?

    “Hija, lo que las niñas como tú sienten
    Cuando junto a sus rejas a cantar vienen
    Es el preludio del poema más grande
    que hay en el mundo.

    “Tornada en Santa Madre la Virgen pura
    Tristezas y alegrías en ella turnan,
    Y este poema es, niña,
    el que ha empezado junto a tus rejas.

    		 Preludes

    Mother, every night next to my window lattice
    A weeping boy sings of my indifference:
    “Love me, maiden,
    and you will be blessed beforethe altar.”

    This sweet tune has such power
    That hearing it makes me sad and happy;
    Tell me how these songs can cause
    both gladness and sadness?

    “Daughter, it is what girls like you feel,
    When next to their window lattice they come to sing
    It is the prelude
    to the greatest poem in the world.

    “Transforming into the Holy Mother, the pure Virgin
    Sadness and joy alternate within her,
    And this poem is, child,
    is the one that began outside your window.”

     

    Shards of Spun Glass – Addie Rose Forstman, soprano

    Sunday, November 1st, 5pm (EST)

    Shards of Spun Glass

    Addie Rose Forstman, soprano, with Edward Forstman, piano
    Songs of Nailah Nombeko, Nico Muhly, and Maria Thompson Corley

    PROGRAM NOTES by Addie Rose Forstman

    We begin with the end: both the theme and title of this evening’s concert are drawn from the final song on the program, “Big Yellow Taxi”, by Maria Thompson Corley. Here is an excerpt of its text that serves as the inspiration and “glue” for the arc of my program.

    “Big Yellow Taxi”

    My heart paused as Notre Dame burned,
    mourning its grandeur,
    crumbling like shards of spun glass,

    Democracy had no assumed expiration
    Lit by careless matches,
    ancient timbers and lofty towers fall to ash
    behind a facade of stone.

    As Joni Mitchell said in her song of the same title: “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone…” a sentiment that profoundly echoes across centuries, and which is twined into William Blake’s poetry, as well

    from Short songs to the poetry of William Blake
     Nailah Nombeko (2011)
    – My Pretty Rose Tree
    – The Sick Rose
    – The Divine Image

    from Short songs to the poetry of William Blake, composed in 2011 by New York native, Nailah Nombeko, a member of The New York Women Composers, Vox Novus and the African American Art Song Alliance. www.nailahnombeko.com. The selections from Nombeko’s Blake songs serve to introduce the themes that the other two works explore in different ways: oppression, loss, and disillusioned idealism.

    The Adulteress 
     Nico Muhly (2009)
     text from Psalms 63 and 56 and from The Gospel according to St. John.

    In The Divine Image and in Muhly’s The Adulteress lies an injunction to each of us to do better, to recognize the goodness of others, as well as one’s own shortcomings and responsibility to set judgment of others aside, and walk with honest love. This work of Muhly’s serves as the ‘sermon’ of this program.  It is a long piece, in the vein of a contemporary cantata, containing a number of voices and perspectives drawn from the Psalms and the Gospel of John. The Adulteress composed in 2009 by Nico Muhly, with text from Psalms 63 and 56 and from The Gospel according to St. John.  Muhly is a New York City based American composer, perhaps best known for his operas Two Boys and Marnie, commissioned by the English National Opera and the Metropolitan Opera. nicomuhly.com

    Our concert concludes with the song by Maria Corley that inspired both our program’s title and its themes — in which shards of glass from the broken windows of Notre Dame’s burning frame shatter, symbolic of ephemeral beauty, and broken faith in systems and institutions of the modern world.

    Big Yellow Taxi
     Maria Thompson Corley (music and text, 2020)

    Composed in 2020 by Maria Thompson Corley, this text was written by the composer during the April 15, 2019 fire at Notre Dame de Paris.  Jamaican-born, and Canadian-raised, Maria Corley is a pianist, composer, writer, and voice actor based in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. www.mariacorley.com

    There is so much at stake each day of our lives — so much we don’t want to lose, whether we realize it or not.  These songs are a call to strive to appreciate, protect, and profoundly care for our fellow-humans, and for the land we should never take for granted, lest it be used beyond repair. We encourage you to vote with your conscience, and to continue to support artistic organizations like dell’Arte that are striving to create and produce opera with greater equity and a better representation of artists and communities in this country. 

    Thank you for joining me on this musical journey

    Addie Rose Forstman

    ___________________________________________________

    TEXTS:

    My Pretty Rose Tree

    A flower was offered to me,
    Such a flower as May never bore;
    But I said, ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’
    And I passed the sweet flower o’er.

    Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
    To tend her by day and by night;
    But my rose turned away with jealousy,
    And her thorns were my only delight.

    The Sick Rose

    O Rose thou art sick.
    The invisible worm,
    That flies in the night
    In the howling storm: 

    Has found out thy bed
    Of crimson joy:
    And his dark secret love
    Does thy life destroy.

    The Divine Image

    To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
    All pray in their distress;
    And to these virtues of delight
    Return their thankfulness.

    For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
    Is God, our father dear,
    And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
    Is Man, his child and care. 

    For Mercy has a human heart,
    Pity a human face,
    And Love, the human form divine,
    And Peace, the human dress. 

    Then every man, of every clime,
    That prays in his distress,
    Prays to the human form divine,
    Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace. 

    And all must love the human form,
    In heathen, Turk, or Jew;
    Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell
    There God is dwelling too. 

    The Adulteress

    O God, you are my God, I seek you,
         my soul thirsts for you;
    My flesh faints for you,
         as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
    So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
         beholding your power and glory.
    Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you.
    So I will bless you as long as I live;
    I will lift up my hands and call on your name.
                                                                 — from Psalm 63

    Early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him and he sat down and began to teach them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery; and making her stand before all of them, they said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground.

    When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, ‘Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.’ And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground.

    When they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders; and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus straightened up and said to her, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She said, ‘No one, sir.’ And Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.’ Again Jesus spoke to them saying ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.’
                                                                   — from the Gospel of John

    Be gracious to me, O God, for people trample on me;
         all day long foes oppress me;
    my enemies trample on me all day long,
         for many fight against me.
    They stir up strife, they lurk,
         they watch my steps.

    Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,
         for in you my soul takes refuge,
    in the shadow of your wings i will take refuge,
         until the destroying storms pass by.

    For you have delivered my soul from death,
         and my feet from falling,
    so that I may walk before God
         in the light of life.
                                                                      — from Psalm 56

    “Big Yellow Taxi”

    My heart paused as Notre Dame burned,
    mourning its grandeur,
    crumbling like shards of spun glass,
    forgetting the toppled spires pointed towards a God
    France had long ago dismissed.
    Parisians and tourists stood
    in solemn worship of stone and ancient wood.
    My cathedral burns like candle wax,
    each new ache and wrinkle
    an inevitable shortening on the wick,
    while my fragrance wafts, then dissipates.
    Democracy had no assumed expiration
    Lit by careless matches,
    ancient timbers and lofty towers fall to ash
    behind a facade of stone.

    Hope in a Time of Isolation – Anna Woiwood, soprano

    Sunday, October 25th, 5pm (EST)

    Hope in a Time of Isolation

    Anna Woiwood, soprano, with Chris Fecteau, piano
    Songs of Verdi, Chopin (arr. Litvinne), Ned Rorem, and Florence Price

    PROGRAM NOTES:

    My program today dives into themes of the life cycle, of death and rebirth. What we try to make happen doesn’t always work out and either something is lost, or what we thought was going to happen changes, and have to discover a renewal.  It’s kind of like a tarot death: you don’t actually die, but one part of you ends in order for another to begin anew. This program takes a journey starting in isolation, getting through darkness, then seeing light on the horizon. I hope it leaves you with a sense of hope for we are not alone even if we aren’t in the same room together.

    AW

    Part 1: The Isolation of Love and Madness 

    In this pandemic period, feelings of madness and isolation are relatable to all of us as we each yearn for connection.

    Three songs of Giuseppe Verdi
    – I. Stornello (anonymous text)
    – II. In solitaria stanza (text by Jacopo Vittorelli)
    – III. Deh, pietoso, oh Addolarta (text by Luigi Ballestra after Goethe)

    Giuseppe Verdi is best known for such famous operas as La Traviata, Il Trovatore, Don Carlo, Falstaff and others, which remain staples of the mainstage repertoire.  His art songs encapsulate in isolation the beauty of his beautifully crafted arias.  Several passages from these art songs may recall ones in some of his famous arias. These pieces capture human life at fragile moments and this collected set reflects a  longing for something or someone that does not come to fruition.

    Part 2: The Cycle of Life Continues 

    With the acceptance of death comes an appreciation for the now. There is no going backwards, only forwards.

    I. Tristesse
    Frédéric Chopin
    Arrangement and text by Litvinne

    II. Take me back
    Ned Rorem (from Our Town)
    Text by J. D. McClatchy

    Frédéric Chopin may not be known for composing art songs for voice, but here,  one of his piano etudes was crafted into a gorgeous song. The text and adaptation are by Félia Litvinne, a Russian dramatic soprano who lived in France.  A deliciously warm melody is paired with dramatic text about a foreboding winter.  The melody was also made famous in 1950s pop version by Jo Stafford.

    Ned Rorem brings to life the metaphysical theatrical sensation Our Town with his simplistic albeit complex music. This aria, which falls at the end of the opera, begs the question, “Do we really see what is around us while we are living? Or must we die to truly know?”

    Part 3: Hope on the Horizon

    Optimism towards a new world. Don’t give up.

    Three Songs of Florence B. Price
    – I. We Have Tomorrow (text by Langston Hughes)
    – II. Hold Fast to Dreams (text by Langston Hughes)
    – III. Sunset (text by Odessa P. Elder)

    Florence Price’s music leaps off the page, dripping with hope and encouragement. She persevered no matter the obstacles – from her humble early years in Arkansas to a career boosting move to Chicago, she created a way when there was none. When, as a black woman, she was not admitted into the Arkansas Music Teachers Association, she created the Little Rock Club of Musicians and prospered.  In her Chicago, she took on a pseudonym in order to publish music and instructional piano books, and survived and thrived as an active musician. While she may not have achieved the fame she deserved in life, she lives on in her songs with their hopeful, encouraging messages.

    Love Inspires – Alonso Jordan Lopez, tenor

    Wednesday, October 14, 7 pm (EST)

    Love Inspires

    Alonso Jordan Lopez, tenor, with Chris Fecteau, piano
    Songs of Handel, Brahms, Ponce, Britten, Lang, Owens, and Quilter

    PROGRAM NOTES by Alonso Jordan Lopez

    My program touches on the many expressions of love by diverse poets and composers.  This is a journey into love and its many forms – from bursts of passion to a broader view of the world coming into focus, and with it, a realization of life and experiences that are more tempered, more aware that love can be (and is) lost but never forgotten.   The first half is about how love ‘bursts’ in passionate moments that change everything around us.

    Love Bursts

    Love sounds th’alarm
     from Acis and Galatea
    G.F. Handel
     Text by John Gay

         In Act II, the title characters enjoy their newfound love when Polyphemus disrupts the peace and imposes his violent nature to have Galatea for himself.  Acis sings this virtuosic aria in a passionate burst – his love inspiring his courage to fight against the giant.

    Treue Liebe
     from Die Schöne Magelone (1861) Op. 33
    Johannes Brahms
     Text by Ludwig Tieck

         Brahms’ romantic setting of a love story from the middle ages captures the qualities that make each poem an adventure for the sake of love. “Treue Liebe” is the 15th and final song of the cycle “Die schöne Magelone” and the end of a journey that convinces the hero of the story that his true love, Magelone, awaits him at home. Brahms romantic style gives way to a stunning burst of excitement that true love awaits us beyond the storms we must face to find “the one”.

    ¡Aleluya!
     Manuel M. Ponce
     Text by Luis G. Urbina 

         As a Mexican-American, the music of Manuel Maria Ponce (famous for his “Estrellita”) speaks to me from a place of heritage and style.  The message here is simple:  Love and happiness have prevailed!  Sadness is no more!

    Love Honors

    After the amazing burst of awe has passed, love is remembered in its emotions and heartbreaks, ending with resolve and acceptance. 

    The Choirmaster’s Burial (or “The Tenorman’s Story”)
     from Winter Words, Op. 52 (1953)
     Benjamin Britten
     Text by Thomas Hardy

         Britten’s magnificent “Winter Words” is sometimes compared to Schubert’s iconic Winterreise. “A Choirmaster’s Burial” relates a spiritual homage performed for the choirmaster when his brethren failed to do it for him. 

    A Song of the Lilac
     Margaret Ruthven Lang
     Text by Louise Imogen Guiney

         Margaret Ruthven Lang has the distinction of being the first woman to have her orchestral composition performed by a major American orchestra (in 1893).  She composed over 200 songs, featuring beautiful melodic phrases and captivating harmonies.  “Song of the Lilac” calls up memories of a first love with cues from nature.

    Bright be the place of thy soul
     from “Stanzas for Music” (1958)
     Robert Owens
     Text by Lord Byron

         Robert Owens’ song cycle Stanzas for Music is dedicated to the composer’s mother, and “…reflects the tragedy of Owens’ first exposure to racism in the United States” (from editors notes).  “Bright be the Place of Thy Soul” promotes a powerful message of the indiscriminate and beauteous life that awaits us after death. 

    Music, When Soft Voices Die
     Roger Quilter
     Text by Percy Bysshe Shelley

         The final song of the program defines its sentiment – love is forever and when experienced, lives in us and in the connections we make with each other.  May you be inspired to love whom you wish and be not afraid to live your life and your love fully!

    FULL TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS

    Love sounds th’alarm

    Love sounds th’alarm,
    And fear is a-flying!
    When beauty’s the prize,?
    What mortal fears dying?

    In defence of my treasure,
    I’d bleed at each vein;
    Without her no pleasure,
    For life is a pain.
    Treue Liebe

    Treue Liebe dauert lange,
    Überlebet manche Stund’,
    Und kein Zweifel macht sie bange,
    Immer bleibt ihr Mut gesund.

    Dräuen gleich in dichten Scharen,
    Fordern gleich zum Wankelmut
    Sturm und Tod, setzt den Gefahren
    Lieb’ entgegen, treues Blut.

    Und wie Nebel stürzt zurücke,
    Was den Sinn gefangen halt
    Und dem heitern Frühlingsblicke
    Öffnet sich die weite Welt.

    Errungen,
    Bezwungen
    Von Lieb’ ist das Glück,
    Verschwunden
    Die Stunden,
    Sie fliehen zurück;
    Und selige Lust,
    Sie stillet,
    Erfüllet
    Die trunkene, wonneklopfende Brust;
    Sie scheide
    Von Leide
    Auf immer,
    Und nimmer
    Entschwinde die liebliche, selige, himmlische Lust!

    		 True love lasts long,
    It survives for all time,
    And no doubt drives it away,
    Love’s courage always remains intact.Storms and death loom,
    temptations abound;
    Love fights back with loyal blood
    Against such perils.What keeps your mind trapped
    Falls away like fog
    And spring is revealed
    as the world opens its doors.

    Achieved,
    Mastered,
    Love is happiness.
    Vanished
    Are the hours –
    They fly away.
    And blessed joy
    Stills,
    Fulfils
    The throbbing breast with delight.
    May it be set apart
    From sorrow
    Forever.
    And never
    Vanish this sweet, blessed, heavenly bliss!
    ¡Aleluya, aleluya

    ¡Aleluya, aleluya,
    aleluya, alma mía!
    Que en un himno concluya
    mi doliente elegía:
    Ya me dijo: ¡Soy tuya!
    Ya le dije: ¡Eres mía!
    Y una voz encantada,
    que de lejos venía,
    me anunció la alborada,
    me gritó: ¡Ya es de día!

    Todo es luz y belleza
    lo que fue sombra fría;
    se apagó la Tristeza,
    se encendió la alegría.
    Ya le dije: ¡Eres mía!
    Ya me dijo: ¡Soy tuya!
    -¡cuánto sol tiene el día!
    ¡Aleluya, alma mía!

    		  

    Hallelujah, hallelujah
    Hallelujah, my soul!
    That what was my elegy
    Now ends in a hymn;
    She confessed: I am yours!
    I exclaimed: You are mine!
    And an overjoyed voice
    that came from afar
    announced- the light of day,
    shouted: It is now day!

    What was once darkness and cold
    is now beauty and light;
    sadness has ended
    joy is ignited!
    I told her: You are mine!
    She told me: I am yours!
    How bright is the day
    Hallelujah, my soul!
    “A Choirmaster’s Burial”

    He often would ask us
    That, when he died,
    After playing so many
    To their last rest,
    If out of us any
    Should here abide,
    And it would not task us,
    We would with our lutes
    Play over him
    By his grave-brim
    The psalm he liked best—
    The one whose sense suits
    “Mount Ephraim”
    And perhaps we should seem
    To him, in death’s dream,
    Like the seraphim.

    As soon as I knew
    That his spirit was gone
    I thought this his due,
    And spoke thereupon.
    “I think” said the vicar,
    “A read service quicker
    That viols out-of-doors
    In these frosts and hoars.
    That old-fashioned was
    Requires a fine day,
    And it seems to me
    It had better not be.

    Hence, that afternoon,
    Though never knew he
    That his wish could not be,
    To get through it faster
    They buried the master
    Without any tune.
    But t’was said that, when
    At the dead of next night
    The vicar looked out,
    There struck on his ken
    Thronged roundabout,
    Where the frost was graying
    The headstoned grass,
    A band all in white
    Like the saints in church-glass,
    Singing and playing
    The ancient stave
    By the choirmaster’s grave.

    Such the tenor man told
    When he had grown old.
    A Song of the Lilac

    And from the coppice thinned,
    So sacred and so sweet
    The lilac in the wind!
    And when by night the May wind blows
    The lilac-blooms apart,
    The memory of his first love
    Is shaken on his heart.

    In tears it long was buried,
    And trances wrapt it round;
    O how they wake it now,
    The fragrance and the sound!
    For when by night the May wind blows
    The lilac-blooms apart,
    The memory of his first love
    Is shaken on his heart.
    Bright be the place of thy soul!

    Bright be the place of thy soul!
    No lovelier spirit than thine
    E’er burst from its mortal control,
    In the orbs of the blessed to shine.

    On earth thou wert all but divine,
    As thy soul shall immortally be;
    And our sorrow may cease to repine,
    When we know that thy God is with thee.

    Light be the turf of thy tomb!
    May its verdure like emeralds be:
    There should not be the shadow of gloom
    In aught that reminds us of thee.

    Young flowers and an evergreen tree
    May spring from the spot of thy rest;
    But not cypress nor yew let us see,
    For why should we mourn for the blest?
    Music, when soft voices die

    Music, when soft voices die,
    Vibrates in the memory;
    Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
    Live within the sense they quicken.

    Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
    Are heaped for the belovèd’s bed;
    And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
    Love itself shall slumber on.

     

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