Richard L. Hodges
baritone
Robin Morace, piano/fortepiano
assisted by:
Julia Reeves, violin
Hamin Kim, cello
Graduate Recital
Friday, March 27, 2015
7:30 pm
Recital Hall, Music Building
Program
3 Gesänge fur Baβstimme, Op. 83 Franz Schubert
L’incanto degli occhi (1797-1828)
Il traditor deluso
Il modo di prender moglie
Walisische Lieder WoO 155 Ludwig van Beethoven
The Parting Kiss (1770-1827)
Love without hope
The vale of Clwyd
Good Night
Brief Pause
Chansons choisis Franz Liszt
S’il est un charmant gazon (1811-1886)
J’ai perdu ma force et me vie
Oh, quand je dors
La tombe et la rose
Lieder der Liebe, Op. 13 Eugen d’Albert
Im Garten. (1864-1932)
Ohne Dich!
Sonne und See.
Serenade.
Letzter Wille.
Rimas de Bécquer Issac Albéniz
Besa el aura que gime blandamente (1860-1909)
Del salon en el ángulo oscuro
Me he herido recantándose en las sombras
Cuando sobre el pecho inclinas
¿De dónde vengo? El más horrible y áspero
Three Dream Portraits Margaret Bonds
I, Too (1913-1972)
Dream Variation
Minstrel Man
Richard Hodges is a student of Professor Levone Tobin-Scott
________
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Master of Music in Performance
Franz Schubert:
3 Gesänge fur Baβstimme, Op. 83
Text by Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782)
L’incanto degli occhi
Da voi, cari lumi,
Di pende il mio stato;
Voi siete i miei Numi,
Voi siete il mio fato.
A vostro talento
Mi sento cangiar,
Ardir m'inspirate,
Seliete splendate;
Se torbidi siete,
Mi fate tremar.
Il traditor deluso
Aimè, io tremo!
Io sente tutto in ondarmi
Il seno di gelido sudor!
Fuga si, ah quale?
Qual' è la via?
Chi me l'addita?
Oh Dio! che ascoltai?
Che m'avvenne?
Oh Dio! che ascoltai?
Ove son io?
Ah l'aria d'intorno lampeggia, afavilla;
Ondeggia, vacilla l'infido terren!
Qual notte profonda
D'orror mi eiroonda!
Che larve funeste,
Che smanie son queste!
Che fiero spavento
Mi sento nel sen!
Il modo di prender moglie
Or sù! non ei pensiamo,
Corraggio e concludiamo,
Al fin s'io prendo moglie,
Sò ben perché lo fò.
Lo fò per pagas i debiti,
La prende per contanti,
Di dirlo, e di repeterlo,
Difficoltà non ho.
Fra tanti modi e tanti
Di prender moglie al mondo,
Un modo più giocondo
Del mio trovar non sò.
Si prende per affetto,
Si prende per rispetto,
Si prende per consiglio,
Si prende per puntiglio,
Si prende per capriccio,
È vero, si o nò?
The magic of your eyes
On you, fair stars
Does my life hang;
You are my gods,
You are my Fate.
I feel myself bending
To your will.
You inspire courage
When blessedly you shine
But when you appear unsettled,
It makes me tremble.
The deluded traitor
Woe is me, I tremble!
All over, I feel waves
Of freezing sweat in my breast!
Flee from here! But where?
What is the way?
Where do I turn?
O God! What do I hear?
What comes here?
O God! What do I hear?
Where am I?
Ah, around me the air flames and sparks;
The faithless earth trembles and undulates!
What dark night
Of horror surrounds me!
What mournful ghosts,
What frenzy this is!
What fierce fright
I feel inside!
The way of taking a wife
Away, without further thinking,
More courage to me, I have concluded
At last I shall take a wife,
I know well why I do it.
I do it to pay my debts!
I'll take a wife for cash,
I say it and then repeat it
I shall have no difficulty.
There are many, many ways
To take a wife,
And a more joyful way
I will not find.
One marries for love,
One marries for respect,
One marries on advice
One marries out of stubbornness,
One marries on a whim,
'Tis true, yes or no?
Ed io per medicina
Di tutti i mali miei
Un poco di sposina
Prendere non potrò?
Ho detto e'l ridico,
Lo fò per li contanti,
Lo fanno tanti e tanti
Anch' io lo farò.
Ludwig van Beethoven:
Walisische Lieder
25. The Parting Kiss
Laura, thy sighs must now no more
My faltering step detain,
Nor dare I hang thy sorrows o’er,
Nor clasp thee thus in vain:
Yet While they bosom heaves that sigh,
While tears thy cheek bedew,
Ah! Think tho’ doom’d from the to fly,
My heart speaks no adieu.
Thee would I bid to check those sighs,
If thine were heard alone-
Thee would I bid to dry those eyes,
But tears are in my own.
One last, long kiss – and then we part –
Another – and adieu!
I cannot aid thy breaking heart,
For mine is breaking too.
19. The vale of Clwyd
Think not I’ll leave fair Clwyd’s vale;
To me ‘tis fondly dear!
For still its scenes those hours recall
When I was blest, and Henry here.
Long, long to part our willing hands
An angry father strove;
While sorrow prey’d on Henry’s health,
A sorrow nurs’d by hopeless love.
‘Twas doubtful bliss, ‘twas sure alarm;
I only smil’d through tears:
But soon we hail’d the bridal day,
And Love’s fond hopes o’ercame its fears.
Ah! Hopes too false; ah! fears too true,
Nor love nor joy could save:
I can no more, - but mark yon turf
With flow’rs o’erspread,- ‘tis Henry’s grave!
And I, for medicine
For all that ails me,
A little bit of wife
Shall I not take?
I have said it and I repeat it,
I am doing this for the money,
They make much of it,
And I will make it too!
4. Love without hope
Her features speak the warmest heart,
But not for me its ardors glows;
In that soft blush I have no part
That mingles with her bossom’s snows.
In that dear drop I have no share
That trembles in her melting eyes;
Nor is my love the tender care
That bids her heave that anxious sigh.
Not Fancy’s happiest hours create
Visions of rapture as divine,
As the pure bliss which must await
The man whose soul is knit to thine.
But ah! Farewell this treacherous theme,
Which, though ‘tis misery to forego,
Yields yet of joy the soothing dream,
That grief like mine thou ne’er shalt know.
26. Good Night
Ere yet we slumbers seek,
Blest Queen of Song, descend!
Thy shell can sweetest speak
Goodnight to guest and friend.
‘Tis pain, ‘tis pain to part
For e’en one fleeting night;
But Music’s matchless art
Can turn it to delight.
How sweet the farewell glass,
When Music gives it zest!
How sweet their dreams who pass
From harmony to rest!
Dark thoughts that scare repose,
At Music’s voice give place;
And Fancy lends her rose,
Sleep’s poppy wreath to grace.
Franz Liszt:
Chansons choisis
Text by Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
S'il est un charmant gazon
S'il est un charmant gazon
Que le ciel arrose,
Où brille en toute saison
Quelque fleur éclose,
Où l'on cueille à pleine main
Lys, chèvrefeuille et jasmin,
J'en veux faire le chemin
Où ton pied se pose!
S'il est un rêve d'amour,
Parfumé de rose,
Où l'on trouve chaque jour
Quelque douce chose,
Un rêve que Dieu bénit,
Où l'âme à l'âme s'unit,
Oh! j'en veux faire le nid
Où ton coeur se pose!
Text by Alfred de Musset (1810-1857)
J'ai perdu ma force et ma vie
J'ai perdu ma force et ma vie,
mes amis et ma gaieté ;
J'ai perdu jusqu'à la fierté
Qui faisait croire à mon génie.
Quand j'ai connu la Vérité,
J'ai cru que c'était une amie;
Quand je l'ai comprise, quand je l’ai sentie,
J'en étais déjà dégoûté.
Et pourtant elle est éternelle,
Et ceux qui se sont passés d'elle
Ici-bas ont tout ignoré.
Dieu parle, il faut qu'on lui réponde.
Le seul bien qui me reste au monde
Est d'avoir quelquefois pleuré.
Oh! quand je dors
Oh! quand je dors, viens auprès de ma
couche, comme à Pétrarque apparaissait
Laura,
Et qu'en passant ton haleine me touche...
Soudain ma bouche
S'entrouvrira!
Sur mon front morne où peutêtre s'achève
Un songe noir qui trop longtemps dura,
Que ton regard comme un astre se lève...
Soudain mon rêve
Rayonnera!
If there is a lovely meadow
If there is a lovely meadow
Watered by the sky,
Where in all seasons
Some flowers brightly bloom,
Where one can gather
Lilies, woodbine, and jasmine,
I wish to make it the path
Where you place your feet!
If there is a dream of love,
Perfumed with roses,
Where one finds each day
Some sweet thing,
A dream blessed by God,
Where soul is joined to soul
Oh! I wish to make it the nest
Where you rest your heart.
I’ve lost my strength and my life
I’ve lost my strength and my life,
My friends and my happiness;
I lost to the pride
Which made me believe in my own genius.
When I thought I knew the Truth,
I believed it to be my friend;
When I understood it, when I felt it,
I was already digusted.
And yet it is eternal
And those which pass it by
Here below are all ignored.
God speaks, we must answer him
The only good remaining me in the world
Is that I sometimes weep.
I’ve lost my strength and my life
Oh! when I sleep, come to me at my bed,
As Laura appeared to Petrarch,
And as you pass, touch me with your
breath…
At once my lips
Will part!
Upon my grave countenance where
perhaps
A dark dream has rested too long,
Let your gaze lift it like a star…
At once my dream
Becomes radiant!
Puis sur ma lèvre où voltige une flamme,
Éclair d'amour que Dieu même épura,
Pose un baiser, et d'ange deviens femme...
Soudain mon âme
S'éveillera
Oh viens! comme à Pétrarque apparaissait
Laura!
La tombe et la rose
La tombe dit à la rose :
—Des pleurs dont l'aube t'arrose
Que fais-tu, fleur des amours?
La rose dit à la tombe :
—Que fais-tu de ce qui tombe
Dans ton gouffre ouvert toujours?
La rose dit: —Tombeau sombre,
De ces pleurs je fais dans l'ombre
Un parfum d'ambre et de miel.
La tombe dit: —Fleur plaintive,
De chaque âme qui m'arrive
Je fais un ange du ciel.
Eugen d’Albert:
Lieder der Liebe, Op. 13
Text by Friedrich Halm (1806-1871)
Im Garten.
Ich poch' an deiner Thüre,
Feinsliebchen, tritt heraus,
Und was da blüht und duftet,
Komm, bind' es mir zum Strauß.
Narcissen und Reseden
Und Flieder sei darin,
Und Veilchen blau und Tulpen,
Und duftender Jasmin.
Nimm Alles, nur nicht Rosen,
Und das aus gutem Grund,
Die pflück' ich von deinen Wangen,
Die pflück' ich von deinem Mund.
Ohne Dich!
Ich fühl's, so oft von dir ich gehe,
Daß Nichts ich wäre ohne dich,
Daß ich nur leb' in deiner Nähe,
Und mich verzehre ohne dich!
Wie heiß auch meine Seele glühe,
Ihr Brand verlodert ohne dich,
Then on my lips, where flickers a flame,
A burst of love which God has kept pure,
Place a kiss, and turn from angel to
woman…
At once my soul
Awakens!
Oh come! as Laura appeared to Petrarch
The tomb and the rose
The tomb says to the rose:
—From the tears the dawn sprinkles you
with
What do you make, flower of love?
The rose says to the tomb:
—What do you do with that which falls
Into your ever-yawning abyss?
The rose says: —Somber tomb,
From these tears I make in the shadow
A perfume of amber and honey.
The tomb says: —Plaintive flower,
Of each soul that arrives in me
I make an angel of heaven.
In the Garden.
I knock on your door,
sweetheart, step outside,
and what there blooms and smells,
come, tie it into a bouquet.
Daffodils and mignonettes,
and lilac be in it,
and violets blue and tulips,
and fragrant jasmin.
Take everything, only not roses,
and for good reason,
these I pick from your cheeks,
these I pick from your mouth.
Without you!
I feel it, as often from you I walk away,
that I would be nothing without you,
that I only live close to you,
and (that) I eat my heart out without you!
How hot my soul may glow,
its fire flares up and dies without you,
Und welcher Keim in mir erblühe,
Er welkt und modert ohne dich!
Aus dir strömt Fülle mir und Segen,
Und Wüste bin ich ohne dich,
Und wie der Bach, gebricht's an Regen,
Im Sand verrinn' ich ohne dich!
Du giebst den Inhalt meinem Leben,
Ein leeres Buch nur ohne dich,
Du weckst und krönst am Ziel mein
Streben,
Das Qual und Fluch nur ohne dich!
Mir werden Siege Niederlagen
Und Glück Verderben ohne dich,
Ich kann mit dir das Höchste wagen,
Und kann nur sterben ohne dich!
Sonne Und See.
Blau glänzt der See im goldnen
Sonnenschein,
Als ob der Fluth der Himmel sich vermähle,
Und wie der See strahlt klar und hell und
rein
Im Glanze deines Blickes meine Seele!
Doch birgt die Sonne trüber Wolken Nacht,
So färbt der See sich grau, grau meine Seele;
Drum strahl' nur, liebes Aug: in alter
Pracht,
Daß nicht der Seele Himmelblau mir fehle.
Serenade.
Ihr blauen Augen, gute Nacht!
Schließt euch zu holden Träumen,
Auf dass ihr hell und frisch erwacht,
Wenn golden sich die Wolken säumen;
Ihr blauen Augen, gute Nacht!
Ihr rothen Lippen, gute Nacht!
Wenn Sterne sich am Himmel zeigen,
Schließt ja den Kelch der rose Pracht;
So schließt auch euch zu holdem
Schweigen,
Ihr roten Lippen gute Nacht!
Du holdes Antlitz, gute Nacht!
Wer würde Tagesglanz vermissen,
Wenn hell noch deine Schönheit wacht;
Drum birg dich tief im weichen Kissen ,
Du holdes Antlitz, gute Nacht!
and which seed in me may bloom
it wilts and decays without you!
Out of you flows fulness and blessing,
and deserted am I without you,
and like the brook, if rain is lacking,
in the sand I trickle away!
You give the content to my life,
An empty book am I without you,
You awaken and crown at the finish of my
striving,
which (is) torture and cursed only without
you!
For me victories turn into defeats,
And happiness turns into ruin without you,
I can with you the highest dare,
and can only die without you!
Sun and Lake.
Blue shines the lake in the golden sunlight,
as if the flood of the heavens married,
and like the lake shines clear and bright and
pure,
in the shine of your look, my soul!
but the sun hides dark clouds’ night,
so colors stain the lake itself grey, grey my
soul;
so shine only, dear eye: in old splendor,
that not the soul’s heavenly blue I lack.
Serenade.
You blue eyes, good night!
close (you) to sweet dreams,
so that you may bright and fresh awaken,
when golden the clouds themselves line;
you blue eyes, good night!
You red lips, good night!
When stars appear in the sky,
close the calyx of the rose’s splendor;
so close also (yourselves) to sweet silence,
you red lips, good night!
You sweet face, good night!
Who would the day’s shine miss,
if gright still your beauty was awake;
so hide you deep in the soft pillow,
you sweet face, good night!
Letzter Wille.
Wenn einst der Tod an mein Lager tritt,
Drei Stücke gib in den Sarg mir mit:
Geraniumblüthe brennend roth,
Wie meine Lieb' war bis zum Tod;
Ein duftend Röslein auch leg' hin,
Wild wachsend wie mein freier Sinn;
Ein Lorbeerzweig lieg' auch dabei,
Ein Zweig nur, daß kein Kranz es sei!
Dann setz' an meinen Sarg dich hin,
Und weine, daß ich gestorben bin;
Und sprichst du dann: Wie der, wie der,
So liebt mich Niemand auf Erden mehr!
Dann ist mein Tagewerk gethan,
Dann schwingt mein Geist sich himmelan!
Isaac Albéniz:
Rimas de Bécquer
Text by Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870)
No.1 Besa el aura que gime blandamente
Besa el aura que gime blandamente
las leves ondas que jugando riza;
el sol besa a la nube en occidente
y de púrpura y oro la matiza;
la llama en derredor del tronco ardiente
por besar a otra llama se desliza;
y hasta el sauce, inclinándose a su peso,
al río que le besa, vuelve un beso.
No. 2 Del salón en el ángulo oscuro
Del salón en el ángulo oscuro,
de su dueño tal vez olvidada,
silenciosa y cubierta de polvo
veíase el arpa.
¡Cuánta nota dormía en sus cuerdas
como el pájaro duerme en la rama
esperando la mano de nieve
que sabe arrancarlas!
¡Ay! -pensé-, ¡Cuántas veces el genio
así duerme en el fondo del alma,
y una voz, como Lázaro, espera
que le diga: “Levántate y anda”!
Last Wish.
If one day (the) death to my bed steps,
three things give into the coffin me:
geranium blossom flaming red.
like my love was til death;
A fragrant little rose also lay down,
wild growing like my free mind;
a laurel twig lay also within,
a twig only, that not a wreath it be!
Then sit at my coffin,
and cry that I died;
And if then you say: like him, like him,
so will love me no one on earth evermore!
Then my day’s work is done,
then swings my spirit itself towards
heaven!
No.1 The Whinning air kisses
The whining air kisses
and playfully curls the nimble waves;
The sun kisses the western cloud,
lending it purple and golden hues,
The flame, around the burning trunk
to kiss another flame it slips,
And even the willow tree, bowing under his
own weight,
to the river that kisses him returns the kiss.
No. 2 In the dark corner of the hall
In the dark corner of the hall,
perhaps forgotten by her mistress,
silent and dusty,
laid the harp.
So many notes slept in her strings,
as the songbird sleeps in the branches,
waiting for the snowy hand
that knows how to awake them!
Alas! - I thought - how often does genius
likewise sleep in the deepest of the heart,
and a voice, like Lazarus, awaits
to be told "Rise and walk!
No. 3 Me han herido recatándose en las sombras
Me han herido recatándose en las sombras,
sellando con un beso su traición.
Los brazos me echó al cuello, y por la
espalda
partiome a sangre fría el corazón.
Y ella prosigue alegre su camino,
feliz, risueña, impávida, ¿y por qué?
Porque no brota sangre de la herida...
¡Porque el muerto está en pie!
No. 4 Cuando sobre el pecho inclinas
Cuando sobre el pecho inclinas
la melancólica frente,
una azucena tronchada
me pareces.
Porque al darte la pureza
de que es símbolo celeste,
como a ella te hizo Dios
de oro y nieve.
No. 5 ¿De dónde vengo...? El más horrible y
áspero
¿De dónde vengo...? El más horrible y
áspero
de los senderos busca:
Las huellas de unos pies ensangrentados
sobre la roca dura,
los despojos de un alma hecha jirones
en las zarzas agudas,
te dirán el camino
que conduce a mi cuna.
¿A donde voy? El más sombrío y triste
de los páramos cruza,
valle de eternas nieves y de eternas
melancólicas brumas.
En donde esté una piedra solitaria
sin inscripción alguna,
donde habite el olvido,
allí estará mi tumba.
No. 3 In the shadows skulking, from behind she
wounded me
In shadows skulking, from behind she
wounded me,
Her base betrayal sealing with a traitor's
kiss;
Her arms around my neck entwined, a
feigned caress.
She pierced my heart, with calm, cold-blooded
cruelty.
Yet joyfully her way pursuant is she found
Unmoved, impassive, happy, smiling, gay
and why?
Because no tell-tale blood-drops trickle
from the wound
Because he walks about, who, none the less
must die.
No. 4 When you incline your melancholy brow
When you incline your melancholy brow
Upon your swelling breast, you seem to me
A lily cut before maturity;
For God made an irrevocable vow.
That he would pive you that chaste purity
Known as the lily's symbol, and that we
Might fully realize His preat intent
And that you might His wisdom represent.
He placed His mark indelible to show
And made you, like the flower, of gold and
white.
No. 5 Whence do I come? Seek thou the roughest
trail,
Whence do I come? Seek thou the roughest
trail,
Of foot-paths the most horrible; the trace
Of bloody footprints on the flinty stone;
A soul despoiled, in tatters and disgrace;
These signs pursue; thy eflbns will not fail.
The brier's stubborn prickles will alone
Infallibly direct thee on the way
Unto the cradle of my history.
Where go I now? Across a comfortless,
A desolate and darkened wilderness;
A pallid vale of everiasting snow.
Where endless, melancholy winters blow;
To where a solitary, nameless stone
Is as a landmark to the dead unknown;
Where dwells forgetfulness in silent gloom.
There shall I find, and there alone, my
tomb.
Margaret Bonds:
Three Dream Portraits
Poems by Langston Hughes (1902-1967)
I, Too
I, too , sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.
Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed -
Minstrel Man
Because my mouth
Is wide with laughter
And my throat
Is deep with song,
You do not think
I suffer after
I have held my pain
So long?
Because my mouth
Is wide with laughter,
You do not hear
My inner cry?
Because my feet
Are gay with dancing
You do not know
I die?
Dream Variations
To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me –
That is my dream!
To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening...
A tall, slim tree…
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.
