Megan Callahan
mezzo-soprano
Rachel Summers, piano
Junior Recital
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
5:30 pm
Recital Hall, Music Building
Program
Laudamus Te from Mass in C Minor, K. 427 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
(1756-1791)
Als Luise die Briefe ihres ungetreuen Liebhabers verbrannte W.A. Mozart
(1756-1791)
Allerseelen Richard Strauss
(1864-1949)
Waldesgespräch Op. 39 No. 3 Robert Schumann
(1810-1856)
.La courte paille Francis Poulenc
I. Le sommeil (1899-1963)
II. Quelle aventure!
III. La reine de coeur
VI. Le carafon
VII. Lune d’avril
Una voce poco fa from Il barbiere di Siviglia Gioachino Rossini
(1792-1863)
Megan Callahan is a student of Dr. Carla LeFevre
________
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Bachelor of Music in Performance
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:
Laudamus te
Laudamus te.
Benedicimus te.
Adoramus te.
Glorificamus te.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:
Als Luise die Briefe ihres ungetreuen
Liebhabers verbrannte
Text by Gabriele von Baumberg (1876-1947)
Erzeugt von heißer Phantasie,
In einer schwärmerischen Stunde
Zur Welt gebrachte, geht zu Grunde,
Ihr Kinder der Melancholie!
Ihr danket Flammen euer Sein,
Ich geb'ʹ euch nun den Flammen wieder,
Und all'ʹ die schwärmerischen Lieder,
Denn ach! er sang nicht mir allein.
Ihr brennet nun, und bald, ihr Lieben,
Ist keine Spur von euch mehr hier.
Doch ach! der Mann, der euch geschrieben,
Brennt lange noch vielleicht in mir.
Richard Strauss:
Allerseelen
Text by Hermann von Gilm zu Rosenegg
(1812-1864)
Stell auf den Tisch die duftenden Reseden,
Die letzten roten Astern trag herbei,
Und laß uns wieder von der Liebe reden,
Wie einst im Mai.
Gib mir die Hand, daß ich sie heimlich
drücke
Und wenn man's sieht, mir ist es einerlei,
Gib mir nur einen deiner süßen Blicke,
Wie einst im Mai.
Es blüht und duftet heut auf jedem Grabe,
Ein Tag im Jahre ist ja den Toten frei,
Komm an mein Herz, daß ich dich wieder
habe,
Wie einst im Mai.
We Praise You
We praise you.
We bless you.
We adore you.
We glorify you.
As Luise Was Burning the Letters of her
Unfaithful Lover
Generated by ardent fantasy;
In a rapturous hour
Brought into this world -‐‑ Perish,
You children of melancholy!
You owe the flames your existence,
So I restore you now to the fire,
With all your rapturous songs.
For alas! He sang them not to me alone.
I burn you now, and soon, you love-‐‑letters,
There will be no trace of you here.
Yet alas! The man himself, who wrote you,
May still perhaps burn long in me.
All Souls’ Day
Place on the table the fragrant mignonettes,
Bring inside the last red asters,
and let us speak again of love,
As once we did in May.
Give me your hand, so that I can press it
Secretly;
And if someone sees us, it's all the same to
Me.
Just give me your sweet gaze,
As once you did in May.
Flowers adorn today each grave, sending
Off their fragrances;
One day in the year is free for the dead.
Come close to my heart, so that I can have
you again,
As once I did in May.
Robert Schumann:
Waldesgespräch
Text by Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff
(1788-1857)
Es ist schon spät, es ist schon kalt,
Was reitst du einsam durch den Wald?
Der Wald ist lang, du bist allein,
Du schöne Braut! Ich führ dich heim!
"Groß ist der Männer Trug und List,
Vor Schmerz mein Herz gebrochen ist,
Wohl irrt das Waldhorn her und hin,
O flieh! Du weißt nicht, wer ich bin."
So reich geschmückt ist Roß und Weib,
So wunderschön der junge Leib,
Jetzt kenn ich dich - Gott steh mir bei!
Du bist die Hexe Lorelei.
"Du kennst mich wohl - von hohem Stein
Schaut still mein Schloß tief in den Rhein.
Es ist schon spät, es ist schon kalt,
Kommst nimmermehr aus diesem Wald."
Francis Poulenc:
La courte paille
Text by Maurice Carême
(1899-1978)
I. Le sommeil
Le sommeil est en voyage,
Mon Dieu! où est-il parti?
J'ai beau bercer mon petit;
Il pleure dans son litcage,
Il pleure depuis midi.
Où le sommeil a-t-il mis
Son sable et ses rêves sages?
J'ai beau bercer mon petit;
Il se tourne tout en nage,
Il sanglote dans son lit.
Ah! reviens, reviens, sommeil,
Sur ton beau cheval de course!
Dans le ciel noir, la Grand Ourse
A enterré le soleil
Et ralumé ses abelles.
Si l'enfant ne dort pas bien,
Il ne dira pas bonjour,
Il ne dira rien demain
A ses doigts, au lait, au pain
Qui l'accueillent dans le jour.
Conversation in the Wood
It is already late, it is already cold;
Why do you ride alone through the wood?
The wood is vast and you are alone,
You fair bride! I will lead you home.
"Great are the deceit and cunning of men;
My heart has broken for pain.
The forest horn sounds here and there,
O flee! You do not know who I am."
So richly decked are horse and lady,
So wondrously fair the young form;
Now I recognize you - God stand by me!
You are the Witch Lorelei.
"You recognize me well - from the lofty
cliffs
My castle gazes down into the Rhine.
It is already late, it is already cold -
You shall never again leave this wood."
The short straw
I. Sleep
Sleep is on vacation.
My God! Where has it gone?
I've rocked my little one in vain;
He cries in his crib,
He's been crying since noon.
Where has sleep put
Its sand and its wise dreams?
I've rocked my little one in vain;
He turns, all sweaty,
He sobs in his bed.
Ah! Return, return, sleep,
On your beautiful race horse!
In the black sky, the Big Bear
Has buried the sun
And re-lit his bees.
If baby doesn't sleep well,
He won't say "good morning,"
He won't say anything tomorrow
To his fingers, to the milk, to the bread
That greet him with the day.
II. Quelle aventure!
Une puce dans sa voiture,
Tirait un petit éléphant
En regardant les devantures
Où scintillaient les diamants.
Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!
Quelle aventure!
Qui va me croire, s'il m'entend?
L'éléphaneau, d'un air absent,
Suçait un pot de confiture.
Mais la puce n'en avait cure,
Elle tirait en souriant.
Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!
Que cela dure
Et je vais me croire dément!
Soudain, le long d'une clôture,
La puce fondit dans le vent
Et je vis le jeune éléphant
Se sauver en fendant les murs.
Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!
La chose est sure,
Mais comment le dire à maman?
III. La riene de coeur
Mollement accoudée
A ses vitres de lune,
La reine vous salue
D’une fleur d’amandier.
C’est la reine de coeur.
Elle peut, s’il lui plait,
Vous mener en secret
Vers d’étranges demeures
Où il ne’st plus de portes,
De salles ni de tours
Et où les jeune mortes
Viennent parler d’amour.
La reine vous salue;
Hâtez-vous de la suivre
Dans son château de givre
Aux doux vitraux de lune.
VI. Le carafon
"Pourquoi, se plaignait la carafe,
N’aurais-je pas un carafon?
Au zoo, madame la giraffe
N’a-t-elle pas un girafon?"
Un sorcier qui passait par là,
A cheval sur un phonographe,
Enregistra la belle voix
De soprano de la carafe
Et la fit entendre à Merlin.
"Fort bien, dit celui-ci, fort bien!"
Il frappa trois fois dans les mains
Et la dame de la maison
Se demande encore pourquoi
Elle trouva, ce matin-là
II. What an adventure!
A flea was pulling a little elephant
Along in its carriage,
While looking at the shop windows
Where diamonds sparkled.
My God! My God!
What an adventure!
Who'll believe me, if they hear me?
The little elephant casually
Licked at a jar of jam,
But the flea didn't care;
She pulled along, smiling.
My God! My God!
How hard this is!
And I think I must be crazy!
Suddenly, near a fence,
The flea blew over in the wind,
And I saw the young elephant
Save himself by knocking down the walls.
My God! My God!
It's really true,
But how can I tell Mommy?
III. The queen of hearts
Softly leaning
On her window-panes of moon,
The queen gestures to you
With an almond flower.
She is the Queen of Hearts.
She can, if she wishes,
Lead you in secret
Into strange dwellings
Where there are no more doors,
Or rooms, or towers,
And where the young dead
Come to talk of love.
The queen salutes you;
Hasten to follow her
Into her castle of frost
With smooth stained-glass moon windows.
VI. The baby carafe
"Why," lamented the carafe,
"Couldn’t I have a baby carafe?
At the zoo, Mrs. Giraffe
Doesn’t she have a baby giraffe?"
A wizard who was riding by
Astride a phonograph
Recorded the beautiful
Soprano voice of the carafe
And played it for Merlin.
"Very well," said he, "very well!"
He clapped his hands three times
And the lady of the house
Still asks herself why
She found, that morning,
Un joli petit carafon
Blotti tout contre la carafe
Ainsi qu’au zoo le girafon
Pose son cou fragile et long
Sur le flanc clair de la girafe.
VII. Lune d’Avril
Lune, belle lune, lune d’Avril,
Faites-moi voir en m’endormant
Le pêcher au coeur de safran,
Le poisson qui rit du grésil,
L’oiseau qui, lointain comme un cor,
Doucement réveille les morts
Et surtout, surtout le pays
Où il fait joie, où il fait clair,
Où, soleilleux de primevères,
On a brisé tous les fusils.
Lune, belle lune, lune d’avril,
Lune.
Gioachino Rossini:
Una voce poco fa from Il barbiere di Siviglia
Text by Cesare Sterbini (1784 – 1831)
Una voce poco fa
Qui nel cor mi risuonò;
Il mio cor ferito è già,
E Lindor fu che il piagò.
Sì, Lindoro mio sarà;
Lo giurai, la vincerò.
Il tutor ricuserà,
Io l'ingegno aguzzerò.
Alla fin s'accheterà
E contenta io resterò.
Sì, Lindoro mio sarà;
Lo giurai, la vincerò.
Io sono docile, son rispettosa,
Sono obbediente, dolce, amorosa;
Mi lascio reggere, mi fo guidar.
Ma se mi toccano dov'è il mio debole
Sarò una vipera e cento trappole
Prima di cedere farò giocar.
A pretty little baby carafe
Leaning up against the carafe
Just as in the zoo, the baby giraffe
Leans its long and fragile neck
Against the smooth flank of the giraffe.
VII. April moon
Moon, beautiful moon, moon of April,
Make me see in my dreams
The peach tree with a heart of saffron,
The fish that laughs at sleet,
The bird that, far away, like a horn,
Sweetly wakens the dead
And above all, above all, the country
Where there is joy, where it is bright,
Where, sunny with springtime,
They have broken all the rifles.
Moon, beautiful moon, moon of April,
Moon.
A voice just now
A voice just now
Echoed here in my heart
My heart is already wounded
And it was Lindoro who shot.
Yes, Lindoro will be mine
I've sworn it, I'll win.
The tutor will refuse,
I'll sharpen my mind
Finally he'll accept,
And happy I'll rest.
Yes, Lindoro will be mine
I've sworn it, I'll win.
I’m calm, I’m respectful,
I'm obedient, sweet, loving;
I let myself be ruled, I let myself be guided.
But if they touch where my weak spot is
I'll be a viper and a hundred traps
before giving up I'll make them fall.
