Ryan Brock
tenor
WITH
ЕЛИЗАВЕТА Auvil
piano
Graduate Recital
Sunday, April 27, 2014
5:30 pm
Recital Hall, Music Building
Program
6 романсов / 6 romances, 0p. 4, No. 4-6 (1890-93) С. Рахманинов / S. Rachmaninoff
Не пой, красавица / Do not sing, my beauty (1873-1943)
Уж ты, нива моя / Oh thou, my Field
Давно-‐‑ль, мой друг / How long, my Friend
Three Poems by Fiona MacLeod, Op. 11 (1918) Charles Griffes
The Lament of Ian the Proud (1884-1920)
Thy Dark Eyes to Mine
The Rose of the Night
Tre Skandinaviske Sanger Edvard Grieg
Jeg elsker Dig, Op. 5, No. 3 (1864-65) (1843-1907)
En Svane, Op. 25, No. 2 (1876)
En Drøm, Op. 48, No. 6 (1884-88)
Intermission
Tre Sonetti di Petrarca, S. 270 (1st version) (1842-46) Franz Liszt
Pace non trovo (Sonetto 104) (1811-1886)
Benedetto sia ‘l giorno (Sonetto 47)
I vidi in terra angelici costumi (Sonetto 123)
Bist du!, S. 277(2nd version) (1878)
Ryan Brock is a student of Dr. Robert Bracey
________
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Master of Music in Performance
Серге́ :
6 , Op. 4 (No. 4–6)
,
Text by Aleksandr Pushkin (1799-1837)
Не пой, красавица, при мне
Ты песен Грузии печальной;
Напоминают мне оне
Другую жизнь и берег дальний.
Увы, напоминают мне
Твои жестокие напевы
И степь, и ночь, и при луне
Черты далекой, бедной девы!
Я призрак милый, роковой,
Тебя увидев, забываю;
Но ты поёшь, и предо мной
Его я вновь воображаю.
,
Text by A. K. Tolstoy (1817-1875)
Уж ты, нива моя, нивушка,
не скосить тебя с маху единого,
Не связать тебя всю во единый сноп!
Уж вы, думы мои, думушки,
не стряхнуть вас разом с плеч долой,
Одной речью-то вас не высказать!
По тебе-ль, нива, ветер разгуливал,
гнул колосья твои до земли,
Зрелы зерна-все разметывал!
Широко вы, думы, порассыпались,
куда пала какая думушка.
Там всходила люта печаль-трава,
выростало горе горючее. A!
-,
Text by A. Golenishchev-Kutuzov (1848-1913)
Давно-ль, мой друг, твой взор печальный
Я в расставанья смутный миг ловил.
Чтоб луч его прощальный
Надолго в душу мне проник.
Давно-ль, блуждая одиноко,
В толпе теснящей и чужой
К тебе желанной и далекой
Я мчался грустною мечтой.
Желанья гасли... Сердце ныло...
Стояло время... Ум молчал...
Давно-ль затишье это было?
Sergei Rachmaninoff:
6 romances
Do not sing, my beauty
Do not sing, my beauty, to me
your sad songs of Georgia;
they remind me
of another life and a distant shore.
Alas, they recall to me,
your cruel melodies,
the steppe, the night and the moonlit
features of a poor, distant maiden!
That sweet and fateful apparition
I forget when you appear;
but you sing, and before me
I picture that image anew.
Oh you, my field
Oh you, my field, dear field,
you cannot be mowed down in a single
swath,
you cannot be bound up in one sheaf!
Oh you, my thoughts, dear thoughts,
you cannot be shaken off in a single gesture,
cannot be expressed in a single utterance!
Has the wind not wrought havoc on you,
oh field,
and bent your ears of grain down to the
ground,
strewing your ripe grains all about!
You, my thoughts, have scattered far and
wide.
Wherever a thought lit,
There rose up the cruel grass of sadness,
There grew up scalding misery. Ah!
How long, my friend
How long, my friend, since I sought your
sad eyes
at the dreary moment of our parting,
so that their farewell gaze,
could be imprinted on my memory forever?
Has it been so long since I, blundering alone
amidst the pressing, alien crowd,
towards you, my remote beloved,
I rushed, as if in a sad dream?
My desires faded… My heart ached…
Time stood still… My mind was mute…
Has it been so long ago, this lull?
But the whirlwind of reunion was fast upon
Но вихрь свиданья набежал...
Мы вместе вновь, и дни несутся,
Как в море волн летучих строй,
И мысль кипит, и песни льются
Из сердца, полного тобой!
Charles Tomlinson Griffes:
Three Poems by Fiona MacLeod, Op. 11
Text by William Sharp (1855-1905)
The Lament of Ian the Proud
What is this crying that I hear in the wind?
Is it the old sorrow and the old grief?
Or is it a new thing coming, a whirling leaf
About the gray hair of me who am weary
and blind?
I know not what it is, but on the moor
above the shore
There is a stone which the purple nets of
heather bind,
And thereon is writ: She will return no more.
O blown, whirling leaf, and the old grief,
And wind crying to me who am old and
blind!
Thy dark eyes to mine
Thy dark eyes to mine, Eilidh,
Lamps of desire!
O how my soul leaps
Leaps to their fire!
Sure, now, if I in heaven,
Dreaming in bliss,
Heard but a whisper,
But the lost echo even
Of one such kiss ––
All of the Soul of me
Would leap afar ––
If that called me to thee
Aye, I would leap afar
A falling star!
us…
We are together again, and the days rush
past,
like rows of waves in the ocean;
And my mind seethes, and songs pour forth
from my heart, brimming with thoughts of
you!
The Rose of the Night
The dark rose of thy mouth
Draw nigher, draw nigher!
Thy breath is the wind of the south,
A wind of fire,
The wind and the rose and darkness,
O Rose of my Desire!
Deep silence of the night,
Husht like a breathless lyre,
Save the sea’s thunderous might,
Dim, menacing, dire,
Silence and wind and sea, they are thee,
O Rose of my Desire!
As a wind-eddying flame
Leaping higher and higher,
Thy soul, thy secret name,
Leaps thro’ Death’s blazing pyre,
Kiss me, Imperishable Fire, dark Rose,
O Rose of my Desire!
Edvard Grieg:
Jeg elsker Dig (Op. 5, No. 3)
Text by Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875)
Min Tankes Tanke ene du er vorden,
Du er mit Hjertes føste Kærlighed.
Jeg elsker Dig, som Ingen her på Jorden,
Jeg elsker Dig i Ti dog Evighed!
En Svane (Op. 25, No. 2)
Text by Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906)
Min hvide svane, du stumme du stille
Hverken slag eller trille lod sangrøst ane.
Angst beskytende Alfen som sover
Altid littende gled du henover
Men sydste mødet da eder og ojne
Var lønlige løjne ja da, da løddet.
I toners føden, du sluttet din bane
Du sang i døden; du var dog en svane!
En Drøm (Op. 48, No. 6)
Text by Friederich von Bodenstedt (1819-1892)
Jeg så en Gang i Drømmesyn
en dejlig Mø så fin og skær
vi sad i Skovens lyse Bryn
imellem Vårens unge Trær.
Og Knoppen brast og Elven sprang,
den fjærne Landsbys Larm og Lyd
indtil os i vor Løvsal klang,
hvor vi sad gemt i salig Fryd.
Men meget mer end Drømmesyn
blev Livet selv en dejlig Dag.
Det var i Skovens lyse Bryn
og under Vårens lette Tag
Og Elven sprang og Knoppen brast,
og alt var fjærnt, kun du var nær;
Og ved min Barm jeg holdt dig fast
nu slipper jeg dig aldrig mer!
O Mødestund i Skovens Bryn,
med Vårens lyse lette Tag!
Der blev min Dag et Drømmesyn,
der blev min Drøm en dejlig Dag!
I love you
You are the single thought of my thoughts,
you are the first love of my heart.
I love you as no one else here on Earth,
I love you for time and eternity!
A Swan
My swan, my pale one, of silence unbroken;
of thy voice ne’er a token or sound did
assail one.
Shyly hiding from elves that thou dreadest,
-list’ning, gliding, thou timidly fleddest.
Aloft thou sprangest as death was
o’ertaking
thy lifesilence breaking, at last thou sangest!
In the tone’s birth, you ended your course.
You sang in death, you were yet a swan!
A Dream
I once had a beautiful dream:
a lovely maiden so delicate and fair,
we sat in a green forest glade,
between the spring’s young trees,
And the buds burst, and the brook ran
strong,
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,
And the brook ran strong, and the buds
burst,
and everything was far, only you were
close;
and in my bosom I held thee fast,
and now will never again let you go!
Oh the spring-green glade
is alive in me for all time!
That is where reality became a dream
and the dream became reality!
Franz Liszt:
Tre Sonetti di Petrarca, S. 270
Text by Francesco Petrarca (1304-1374)
Pace Non Trovo
Pace non trovo, e non ho da far guerra,
E temo, e spero, ed ardo, e son un
ghiaccio;
E volo sopra ‘l cielo, e giaccio in terra;
E nulla stringo, e tutto ‘l mondo
abbraccio.
Tal m’ha in prigion, che non m’apre, né
serra,
Né per suo mi ritien, né scioglie il laccio,
E non m’ancide Amor, e non mi sferra;
né mi vuol vivo, né mi trahe d’impaccio.
Veggio senz’ occhi; e non ho lingua e
grido;
E bramo di perir, e cheggio aita,
Ed ho in odio me stesso, ed amo altrui:
Pascomi di dolor; piangendo rido;
Egualmente mi spiace morte e vita.
In questo stato son, donna, per voi,
In questo stato son per voi, O Laura per
voi.
Benedetto sia ’l giorno
Benedetto sia ’l giorno, e ’l mese, e
l’anno,
E la stagione, e ’l tempo, e l’ora, e ’l
punto
E ’l bel paese e ’l loco ov’ io fui giunto
Da duo begli occhi che legato m’hanno;
E benedetto il primo dolce affanno
Ch’ i’ ebbi, ad esser con Amor congiunto,
E l’arco e le saette ond’ i’ fui punto,
E le piaghe, ch’ infino al cor mi vanno.
Benedette le voci tante, ch’io
Chiamando il nome di mia Laura ho
sparte,
E i sospiri e le lagrime, e ’l desio.
E benedette sian tutte le carte
Ov’io fama le acquisto, e il pensier mio
Ch’è sol di lei, sì sol di lei
Ch’ altra non v’ha parte.
Three Petrarchan Sonnets
I Find No Peace
I find no peace and I make no war;
I fear and I hope, I burn, and I freeze.
I fly above the heavens, but I lie on earth
I hold nothing, and yet I embrace all the
world.
She has me in a prison that is not open to
me, neither is it closed.
She does not keep me for herself, nor
dissolves the snare.
Love does not kill me, but refuses to
remove my chains;
does not want me alive, but will not free
me from my troubles.
Eyeless I see, and tongueless I cry out.
I want to die, yet ask for help.
Myself I hate, and others I love.
I feed on grief, I weep while laughing.
Neither life nor death appeals to me.
I am in this state because of you, lady.
Because of you, Laura.
Blessed Be the Day
Blessed be the day, the month, the year,
the season, the time, the very moment of
the hour,
the lovely landscape, and the place
where I was met
by those two lovely eyes that have
bound me;
and blessed be that first sweet breathlessness
when I was caught by Love.
and the bow, and the arrows that pierced
me clear to the heart,
and the wounds struck there by Love;
blessed be the words I scattered
when I invoked my lady’s name,
and my sighs, my tears, and my passion,
and blessed be all those sonnets
by which I bring her renown, and my
thoughts,
which are so exclusively of her,
that no other woman has a part in them.
I’ vidi in terra angelici costumi
I’ vidi in terra angelici costumi,
E celesti bellezze al mondo sole;
Tal che di rimembrar mi giova, e dole:
Ché quant’ io miro par sogni, ombre, e
fumi.
E vidi lagrimar que’ duo bei lumi,
Ch’han fatto mille volte invidia al sole;
Ed udì sospirando dir parole
Che farian gir i monti, e stare i fiumi.
Amor, senno, valor, pietate, e doglia
Facean piangendo un più dolce concento
D’ogni altro che nel mondo udir si
soglia.
Ed era ’l cielo all’ armonia s’intento
Che non si vedea in ramo mover foglia,
Tanta dolcezza avea pien l’aer e ’l vento.
Bist du!, S. 277
Text by Metschersky (1808-1844)
Mild wie ein Lufthaugh im Mai,
rein wie die Perle im Meer,
klar wie der Himmel in Rom,
so still wie die Mondnacht bist du.
Kalt wie der Gletscher der Alp,
fest wie der Felsen, der Fels von Granit,
ruhig wie’s Wasser im See,
wie Gott unergründlich bist du!
Denn aus den Sphären des Lichts,
denn aus den Welten der Schönheit und
Liebe,
denn aus den Höhen des Alls,
denn aus den Tiefen des Seins kommst du!
I Saw on Earth Angelic Qualities
I saw on earth angelic qualities,
celestial beauties unmatched in the
world,
such that to recall them brings joy and
pain.
All else I view as haze, dreams and
shadows.
I saw tears in those two lovely eyes,
making the sun a thousand times
envious,
I heard words uttered with sighs that
would
make mountains move and streams
stand still.
Love, Wisdom, Valor, Mercy, and Grief
All made a sweeter harmony as they
wept
than any that the world has yet heard.
And heaven was so intent on their
harmony
that no leaf stirred on the bough,
so great a sweetness filled the air and the
breeze.
You are!
As mild as the breath of a breeze in May,
As pure as the pearl in the sea,
As clear as the sky in Rome,
As quiet as a moonlit night are you.
As cold as a glacier in the Alps,
As firm as a rock, a rock of granite,
As calm as the waters of a lake,
As unfathomable as God are you!
For from the spheres of light,
For from the worlds of beauty and love,
For from the heights of the universe,
For from the depths of being you come!
