Laura Dawalt
soprano
Ināra Zandmane, piano
assisted by:
Leslie Simmons, clarinet
Antonio Truyols, piano
Graduate Recital
Monday, April 9, 2012
7:30 pm
Organ Hall, Music Building
Program
Caldo sangue (Carissimi) Arne Dørumsgaard
No, no, non si speri (Carissimi) (1921-2006)
Ah, Quanto è vero (Cesti)
Cinq mélodies populaires grecques Maurice Ravel
I. Chanson de la mariée (1875-1937)
II. Là-bas vers l’église
III. Quel gallant m’est comparable
IV. Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques
V. Tout gai!
12 Romances, Op. 21 Sergei Rachmaninoff
!"#$%& (Siren' ) (1873-1943)
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Intermission
To be Sung Upon the Water. (1972) Dominick Argento
I. Prologue: Shadow and Substance (b.1927)
II. The Lake at Evening
III. Music on the Water
VIII. Epilogue: De Profundis
Sechs Leider, Op. 48 Edvard Grieg
1. Gruß (1875-1937)
2. Dereinst, Gedanke mein
3. Lauf der Welt
4. Die verschwiegene Nachtigall
5. Zur Rosenzeit
6. Ein Traum
Laura Dawalt is a student of Dr. Robert Bracey
________
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Doctor of Musical Arts in Performance
Arne Dørumsgaard
Caldo sangue
Text by Filippo Ortensio Fabbri
Caldo sangue, che bagnando
il sen mi vai, e d'amore
fai gran fede al genitore,
fuggi pur, fuggi da me,
ch'io già moro, e resto esangue!
Forse un dì risorgerai
per vendetta della man
che mi saetta; e il vigor
che in me già manca, caldo sangue,
passerà più saldo in te.
No, no, non si speri
Text by Giacomo Carissimi (1605-1674)
No, no, non si speri
No, no, non si speri!
È morta la speme!
Piangete, pensieri!
A bruno vestiti, nel vostro dolore
desiri traditi lasciate il mio core!
Le gioie d'amore son lampi fugaci,
mendaci, leggiere!
Ah! quanto è vero
Text by Francesco Sbarra (1611-1668)
Ah! quanto è vero che il nudo arciero
forza non ha!
Il nostro core ogni vigore
solo gli da!
L'accesa face per cui si sface
misero sen,
È sol del senso l'ardore intenso,
che non ha fren!
Maurice Ravel
Text by Michel D. Calvocoressi (1877-1944)
Cinq mélodies populaires grecques
1. Chanson de la mariée
Réveille-toi, réveille-toi, perdrix mignonne,
Ouvre au matin tes ailes.
Trois grains de beauté, mon coeur en est brûlé!
Vois le ruban d'or que je t'apporte,
Pour le nouer autour de tes cheveux.
Si tu veux, ma belle, viens nous marier!
Dans nos deux familles, tous sont alliés!
2. Là-bas, vers l'église
Là-bas, vers l'église,
Vers l'église Ayio Sidéro,
L'église, ô Vierge sainte,
L'église Ayio Costanndino,
Se sont réunis,
Rassemblés en nombre infini,
Du monde, ô Vierge sainte,
Du monde tous les plus braves!
Warm Blood
Warm blood, now bathing
my breast as proof of the love
I bear to my father,
flow now, flow from me,
I am drained and close to death!
Perhaps one day you will rise again
to exact your vengeance on the hand
that wounded me; and the flame
now fading inside me, warm blood,
will burn more brightly in you.
No, no, do not be hopeful
No, no, do not be hopeful
No, no, do not be hopeful
Hope is dead!
Weep, thoughts!
Clothed in dark mourning
betrayed desire, leave my heart!
The joys of love are fleeting,
lying, fickle flashes!
Oh, how true
Oh, how true, that I do not have the
power of that little naked archer!
The harder I work, the more his arrows
glide away.
The torch you lit feels so miserable going
out,
and the sun feels the intense heat that
never stops.
Five popular Greek melodies
1. Song of the Bride
Awake, awake, my darling partridge,
Open your wings to the morning.
Three beauty spots; my heart is on fire!
See the ribbon of gold that I bring
To tie round your hair.
If you want, my beauty, we shall marry!
In our two families, all become one!
2. Over there, by the church
Over there, by the church,
By the church of Ayio Sidero,
The church, o blessed Virgin,
The church of Ayio Costanndino,
There are gathered,
Assembled in infinite numbers,
In the world, o blessed Virgin,
In the world, all the bravest!
3. Quel Galant
Quel galant m'est comparable,
D'entre ceux qu'on voit passer?
Dis, dame Vassiliki?
Vois, pendus à ma ceinture,
Pistolets et sabre aigu...
Et c'est toi que j'aime!
4. Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques
O joie de mon âme,
Joie de mon coeur,
Trésor qui m'est si cher;
Joie de l'âme et du coeur,
Toi que j'aime ardemment,
Tu es plus beau qu'un ange.
O lorsque tu parais,
Ange si doux
Devant nos yeux,
Comme un bel ange blond,
Sous le clair soleil,
Hélas! tous nos pauvres coeurs soupirent!
5. Tout gai!
Tout gai! gai, Ha, tout gai!
Belle jambe, tireli, qui danse;
Belle jambe, la vaisselle danse,
Tra la la la la...
Sergei Rachmaninoff
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3. What Gallant
What gallant compares with me,
Among those one sees passing by?
Tell me, lady Vassiliki!
See, hung on my belt,
My pistols and my sharp sword.
And it is you whom I love!
4. Song for picking lentils
O joy of my soul,
joy of my heart,
treasure which is so dear to me,
joy of my soul and heart,
you whom I love ardently,
you are more handsome than an angel.
O when you appear,
angel so sweet,
Before our eyes,
like a beautiful blond angel,
under the bright sun,
Alas! All of our poor hearts sigh!
5. All Joyous
Everyone is joyous, joyous!
Beautiful legs, tralala, which dance,
Beautiful legs; even the dishes are
dancing! Tra la la, la la la!
Lilacs
In the morning, at daybreak,
over the dewy grass,
I will go to breathe the crisp dawn;
and in the fragrant shade,
where the lilac crowds,
I will go to seek my happiness...
In life, only one happiness
was fated for me to discover,
and that happiness lives in the lilacs;
in the green boughs,
in the fragrant bunches,
my poor happiness blossoms.
I am no prophet
I am no prophet, I am no soldier,
I am no teacher of the world;
I, by the grace of God, am a singer,
My weapon is a lyre.
By the will of God I create;
I avoid alliance with a lie,
I talk in song to the heart,
In which I rouse a divine spark.
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Dominick Argento
Text by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
To be Sung Upon the Water
I. Prologue
As one who hangs down-bending from the
side
Of a slow-moving boat, upon the breast
Of a still water, solacing himself
With such discoveries as his eye can make
Beneath him in the bottom of the deep,
Sees many beauteous sights -- weeds, fishes,
flowers,
Grots, pebbles, roots of trees, and fancies
more,
Yet often is perplexed and cannot part
The shadow from the substance, rocks and
sky,
Mountains and clouds, reflected in the depth
Of the clear flood, from things which there
abide
In their true dwelling; now is crossed by
gleam
Of his won image, by a sunbeam now,
And wavering motions sent he knows not
whence,
Impediment that make his task more sweet;
Such pleasant office have I long pursued
Incumbent o'er the surface of past time.
How Painful it is
How much it hurts, how I want to live
How fresh and fragrant is the spring!
No! I can't bridle my heart
On this sleepless blue night.
If only old age could come sooner,
If only the hoar could glitter in my hair,
So that the nightingale would stop
singing for me,
So that the forest would not rustle for me,
So that a song in my soul wouldn’t strive
To fly though the lilacs far away,
So that in this peace I would not so
painfully regret something missing!
How nice it is here
How nice it is here
Look - far away,
The river is a blaze of fire;
The meadows lie like carpets of color
The clouds are white.
Here there is no one...
Here it is silent...
Here it is only God and I,
The flowers, the old pine tree,
And you, my dream
II. The Lake at Evening
Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid
bars
Through the grey west; and lo! These
waters, steeled by breezeless air to
smoothest polish, yield
A vivid repetition of the stars;
Jove, Venus and the ruddy crest of Mars
Amid his fellows beauteously revealed
At happy distance from earth's groaning
field, Where ruthless morals wage
incessant wars.
Is it a mirror? or the nether Sphere
Opening to view the abyss in wish she
feeds her own calm fires? -But list! a
voice is near;
Great Pan himself low-whispering
through the reeds,
'Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquility is here!'
III. Music on the Water
Lutes and voices down th' enchanted woods
Steal, and compose the oar-forgotten floods,
While Evening's solemn bird melodious
weeps,
Heard, by star-spotted bays, beneath the
steeps;
Slow glides the sail along th' illuminated
shore,
And steals into the shade the lazy oar.
Soft bosoms breathe around contagious sighs
And amourous music on the water dies.
Edvard Grieg
Text by Friedrich Martin von Bodenstedt
(1819-1892)
Sechs Leider
Gruß
Leise zieht durch mein Gemüt
Liebliches Geläute,
Klinge, kleines Frühlingslied,
Kling hinaus ins Weite.
Kling hinaus bis an das Haus,
Wo die Blumen sprießen,
Wenn du eine Rose schaust,
Sag, ich laß sie grüßen.
Dereinst, Gedanke mein
Dereinst, Gedanke mein,
Wirst ruhig sein.
Läßt Liebesglut
Dich still nicht werden,
In kühler Erden,
Da schläfst du gut,
Dort ohne Lieb’
und ohne Pein
Wirst ruhig sein.
Was du im Leben
Nicht hast gefunden,
Wenn es entschwunden,
Wird's dir gegeben,
Dann ohne Wunden
Und ohne Pein
Wirst ruhig sein.
VIII. Epilogue
The world is too much with us; late and
soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our
powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid
boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the
moon;
The winds that will be howling at all
hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping
flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of
tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea;
Have glimpses that would make me less
forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed
horn.
Six Songs
Greeting
Soft and gently through my soul
sweetest bells are ringing,
speed you forth, my little song,
of springtime blithely singing.
Speed you onward to a house
where sweet flowers are fleeting,
if perchance a rose you see,
Say, I send her greeting.
One day, O my mind
One day, O my mind,
You will be at peace.
Love's ardour
will not leave you alone,
In the cool earth,
There you’ll sleep well
There without love
and without suffering;
You will be at peace:
What you have not
found in life,
When it has vanished,
Will be given to you;
Then without wounds
and without pain
you will be at peace.
Lauf der Welt
An jedem Abend geh' ich aus
Hinauf den Wiesensteg.
Sie schaut aus ihrem Gartenhaus,
Es stehet hart am Weg.
Wir haben uns noch nie bestellt,
Es ist nur so der Lauf der Welt.
Ich weiß nicht, wie es so geschah,
Seit lange küss' ich sie,
Ich bitte nicht, sie sagt nicht: ja!
Doch sagt sie: nein! auch nie.
Wenn Lippe gern auf Lippe ruht,
Wir hindern's nicht, uns dünkt es gut.
Das Lüftchen mit der Rose spielt,
Es fragt nicht: hast mich lieb?
Das Röschen sich am Taue kühlt,
Es sagt nicht lange: gib!
Ich liebe sie, sie liebet mich,
Doch keines sagt: ich liebe dich!
Die verschwiegene Nachtigall
Unter der Linden,
an der Haide,
wo ich mit meinem Trauten saß,
da mögt ihr finden,
wie wir beide
die Blumen brachen und das Gras.
Vor dem Wald mit süßem Schall,
Tandaradei!
sang im Tal die Nachtigall.
Ich kam gegangen zu der Aue,
mein Liebster kam vor mir dahin.
Ich ward empfangen
als hehre Fraue,
daß ich noch immer selig bin.
Ob er mir auch Küsse bot?
Tandaradei!
Seht, wie ist mein Mund so rot!
Wie ich da ruhte,
wüßt' es einer,
behüte Gott, ich schämte mich.
Wie mich der Gute
herzte, keiner
erfahre das als er und ich -
und ein kleines Vögelein,
Tandaradei!
das wird wohl verschwiegen sein.
Zur Rosenzeit
Ihr verblühet, süße Rosen,
Meine Liebe trug euch nicht;
Blühtet, ach! dem Hoffnungslosen,
Dem der Gram die Seele bricht!
Jener Tage denk' ich trauernd,
Als ich, Engel, an dir hing,
The Way of the World
Each evening I go out,
over the meadow-path.
She looks out from her summerhouse,
which stands by the pathway.
We have never questioned this,
it is just the way things are.
I don't know how it happened so,
for a long time I kiss her,
I don't ask, she doesn't say yes,
however, she also never says no.
If lips like to rest on lips,
we forbid them not, it pleases us well.
The little breeze plays with the rose,
it doesn't ask: do you love me?
The little grasses are chilled by the dew,
they don't often say: stop!
I love her, she loves me,
however neither says: I love you!
The quiet nightingale
Under the lindens
on the heath
at the spot where I sat with my boyfriend
you might discover
how he and I
crushed the flowers and the grass.
From the woods came a sweet sound -
"Tandaradei!"
the nightingale sings in the valley.
I came to the meadow;
my sweetheart had arrived before me.
He greeted me
as a noble lady
(I'm still very happy about that).
Did he offer me kisses?
"Tandaradei!"
See how red my lips are!
If anyone knew, Heaven forbid
what happened there,
I would be bashful.
May nobody know
how sweet the embrace
except him and me -
and a little bird
"Tandaradei!"
who will keep our secret.
Time of Roses
You are wilting, sweet roses
my love could not sustain you.
Bloom for hopelessness then,
for him whose soul the sorrow breaks
I think mournfully of those days
when I clung to you, angel,
Auf das erste Knöspchen lauernd
Früh zu meinem Garten ging;
Alle Blüten, alle Früchte
Noch zu deinen Füßen trug
Und vor deinem Angesichte
Hoffnung in dem Herzen schlug.
Ein Traum
Mir träumte einst ein schöner Traum:
Mich liebte eine blonde Maid;
Es war am grünen Waldesraum,
Es war zur warmen Frühlingszeit:
Die Knospe sprang, der Waldbach schwoll,
Fern aus dem Dorfe scholl Geläut -
Wir waren ganzer Wonne voll,
Versunken ganz in Seligkeit.
Und schöner noch als einst der Traum
Begab es sich in Wirklichkeit -
Es war am grünen Waldesraum,
Es war zur warmen Frühlingszeit:
Der Waldbach schwoll, die Knospe sprang,
Geläut erscholl vom Dorfe her -
Ich hielt dich fest, ich hielt dich lang
Und lasse dich nun nimmermehr!
O frühlingsgrüner Waldesraum!
Du lebst in mir durch alle Zeit -
Dort ward die Wirklichkeit zum Traum,
Dort ward der Traum zur Wirklichkeit!
waiting for your first little bud
and going to my garden early;
Every blossom, every fruit
I carried to your feet;
and before your countenance,
hope throbbed in my heart.
The Dream
I once had a beautiful dream:
I was in love with a blond maiden
we were in a green forest glade,
it was warm spring weather,
the buds sprouting, the brook rushing,
the sounds of the distant village could be
heard, we were full of joy,
immersed in bliss.
And even more beautiful than the dream
was what occurred in reality:
it was in a green forest glade
it was warm spring weather,
the buds sprouting, the brook rushing,
the sounds of the distant village reached
our ears, I held you tight, I held you long,
and now will never again let you go!
Oh spring-green glade
You live in me for all time!
That is where reality became a dream
and the dream became reality!
