Kelly W. Burns
tenor
Richard Auvil, piano
assisted by:
Karen Hayden, mezzo-soprano
Graduate Recital
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
7:30 pm
Organ Hall, Music Building
Program
though love be a day (1978) Gwyneth Walker
i. thy fingers make early flowers (b. 1948)
ii. lily has a rose
iii. after all white horses are in bed
iv. maggie and millie and molly and may
v. still
Ciganské melodie (1880) Antonín Dvořák
1. Má píseň zas mi láskou zní (1841-1904)
2. Aj! Kterak trojhranec můj přerozkošně zvoní
3. A les je tichý kolem kol
4. Když mne stará matka zpívat
5. Struna naladěna, hochu, toč se v kole
6. Siroké rukávy a široké gate
7. Dejte klec jestřábu ze zlata ryzého
Intermission
Frühlingsglaube, D. 686 Franz Schubert
An Silvia, D. 891 (1797-1828)
Ganymed, D. 544
Canticle II: Abraham and Isaac (1952) Benjamin Britten
(1913-1976)
Art is calling for me Victor Herbert
from The Enchantress (1911) (1859-1924)
Kelly W. Burns is a student of Dr. Robert Bracey.
________
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Doctor of Musical Arts in Performance
Antonín Dvořák:
Ciganské melodie
Czech folksongs, author unknown
Má píseň zas mi láskou zní,
Má píseň zas mi láskou zní,
když starý den umirá,
a chudý mech kdy na šat svůj
si tajně perle sbíra.
Má píseň v kraj tak toužně zní,
když svetem noha bloudí;
jen rodné pusty dálinou
zpěv volně z ňader proudí.
Má píseň hlučně láskou zní,
když bouře běží plání;
když těším se, že bídy prost
dlí bratr v umírání.
Aj! Kterak trojhranec můj přerozkošně zvoní
Aj! kterak trojhranec můj přerozkošně
zvoní,
jak cigána píseň, když se k smrti kloní!
Když se k smrti kloní, trojhran mu vyzvání.
Konec písni, tanci, lásce, bědování.
A les je tichý kolem kol
A les je tichý kolem kol,
jen srdce mír ten ruší,
a černý kouř, jenž spěchá v dol,
mé slze v lících, mé slze suší.
Však nemusí jich usušit,
necht' v jiné tváře bije.
Kdo v smutku může zazpívat,
ten nezhynul, ten žije, ten žije!
Když mne stará matka zpívat
Když mne stará matka zpívat učívala,
podivno, že často, často slzívala.
A ted' také pláčem snědé líce mučim,
když cigánské děti hrát a zpívat učim!
Struna naladěna
Struna naladěna, hochu, toč se v kole,
dnes, snad dnes převysoko,
zejtra, zejtra, zejtra zase dole!
Pozejtří u Nilu
za posvátným stolem;
My song again rings to me with love
My song again rings to me with love
when the old day dies,
and when the poor moss
secretly gathers pearls into its guise.
My song so longingly rings into the country
When I wander through the world;
through the vastness of my native puszta
does my voice flow freely from my bosom.
My song loudly resounds of love when
the storm hurries through the flatland.
When I am glad that my brother
Is dying free from poverty.
Ah! How my triangle passionately rings
Ah! How my triangle passionately rings
Like a gypsy’s song, when he is dying,
the death of a gypsy brings an end
to song, dance, love and lament!
The forest is silent all around
The forest is silent all around;
only my heart is disturbing the peace.
And black smoke hurries into the valley,
And dries up my tears on my cheek.
However, it does not have to dry them up –
let it blow on another cheek.
Whoever in sorrow can sing,
That person did not die, that person lives!
Songs My Mother Taught Me
When my old mother taught me to sing,
it’s strange that she often cried.
And now I torment my face by weeping
when I teach gypsy children to play and
sing.
The strings are tuned
The strings are tuned, boy – spin in a circle
Today, maybe today very high.
Tomorrow, down again.
The day after tomorrow at the Nile
At the sacred table,
struna již, struna naladěna,
hochu, toč, hochu, toč se kolem!
Široké rukávy a široké gatě
Široké rukávy a široké gatě
volnější cigánu nežli dolman v zlatě.
Dolman a to zlato bujná prsa svírá;
pod ním volná píseň násilně umírá.
A kdo raduješ se, tvá kdy píseň v květě,
přej si, aby zašlo zlato v celém světě!
Dejte klec jestřábu
Dejte klec jestřábu ze zlata ryzého;
nezmění on za ni hnízda trněného.
Komoni bujnému, jenž se pustou žene,
zřídka kdy připnete uzdy a třemene.
A tak i cigánu příroda cos dala:
k volnosti ho věčným poutem, k volnosti ho
upoutala.
Franz Schubert:
Frühlingsglaube
Text by Johann Ludwig Uhland
(1787-1862)
Die linden Lüfte sind erwacht,
Sie säuseln und wehen Tag und Nacht,
Sie schaffen an allen Enden.
O frischer Duft, o neuer Klang!
Nun, armes Herze, sei nicht bang!
Nun muß sich alles, alles wenden.
Die Welt wird schooner mit jedem Tag,
Man weiß nicht, was noch warden mag,
Das Blühen will nicht enden;
Es blüht das fernste, tiefste Tal:
Nun, armes Herz, vergiß der Qual!
Nun muß sich alles, alles wenden.
An Silvia
German translation by Eduard von
Bauernfeld (1802-1890)
Was is Silvia, saget an,
Daß sie die weite Flur preist?
Schön und zart she ich sie nahn,
Auf Himmelsgunst und Spur weist,
Daß ihr alles untertan.
Ist sie schön und gut dazu?
Reiz labt wie milde Kindheit;
Ihrem Aug’ eilt Amor zu,
Dort heilt er seine Blindheit
Und verweilt in süßer Ruh.
The strings are already tuned,
Boy, spin around, boy spin around.
Wide sleeves and wide trousers
Wide sleeves and wide trousers have
more freedom than a robe of gold.
The robe of gold constricts the heart
and the song within the body dies violently.
You who like it when your song is in bloom
wish gold to be extinct in the whole world!
Give a hawk a cage
Give a hawk a cage made from pure gold,
he will not exchange it for his thorny nest.
To a wild horse galloping through a puszta,
you rarely hitch a bridle and stirrup.
And so also to the gypsy, nature gave:
Through an eternal bond with freedom it
bound him.
Spring Faith
The gentle breezes are awakened,
They whisper and blow day and night,
They create at all ends.
O fresh scent, o new sound!
Now, poor heart, do not be afraid.
Now all, all must change.
With each day the world grows fairer,
One cannot know what is still to come,
The flowering refuses to cease.
Even the deepest, farthest valley blooms.
Now, poor heart, forget your torment.
Now all, all must change.
Who is Silvia?
Text by William Shakespeare, taken from
Act IV, Scene 2 of Two Gentlemen of Verona
Who is Silvia? what is she,
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair and wise is she;
The heavens such grace did lend her,
That she might admiréd be.
Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness.
Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness,
And being helped, inhabits there.
Darum Silvia, tön, o Sang,
Der holden Silvia Ehren;
Jeden Reiz besiegt sie lang,
Den Erde kann gewähren:
Kränze ihr und Saitenklang!
Ganymed
Text by Johann Wolfgan von Goethe
(1749-1832)
Wie im Morgenglanze
Du rings mich anglühst,
Frühling, Geliebter!
Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne
Sich an mein Herze drängt
Deiner ewigen Wärme Heilig Gefühl,
Unendliche Schöne!
Daß ich dich fassen möcht’
In diesen Arm!
Ach, an deinem Busen
Lieg’ ich, und schmacte
Und deine Blumen, dein Gras
Drängen sich an mein Herz.
Du kühlst den brennenden
Durst meines Busens,
Lieblicher Morgenwind!
Ruft drein die Nachtigall
Liebend nach mir aus dem Nebeltal.
Ich komm’, ich komme!
Ach wohin, Wohin?
Hinauf! Strebt’s hinauf.
Es scheweben die Wolken
Abwärts, die Wolken
Neigen sich der sehnenden Liebe.
Mir! Mir!
In eurem Schosse
Aufwärts!
Umfangend umfangen!
Aufwärts an deinem Busen,
Alliebender Vater!
Benjamin Britten:
Canticle II: Abraham and Isaac
Text from The Chester Miracle Play
Author Unknown
God speaketh:
Abraham!... My servant Abraham,
Take Isaac, thy son by name,
That thou lovest the best of all,
And in sacrifice offer him to me
Upon that hill there besides thee.
Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling;
To her let us garlands bring.
Ganymede
How in the morning light
You glow around me,
Beloved Spring!
With love’s thousand-fold bliss,
To my heart presses
The eternal warmth of sacred feelings
And endless beauty!
Would that I could clasp
You in these arms!
Ah, at your breast
I lie and languish,
And your flowers and your grass
Press themselves to my heart.
You cool the burning
Thirst of my breast,
Lovely morning wind!
The nightingale calls
Lovingly to me from the misty vale.
I am coming, I am coming!
But where, to where?
Upwards I strive, upwards!
The clouds float
Downwards, the clouds
Bow down to yearning love.
To me! To me!
In your lap
Upwards!
Embracing, embraced!
Upwards to your bosom,
All-loving Father!
Abraham, I will that so it be,
For aught that may befall.
Abraham riseth and saith:
My Lord, to Thee is mine intent
Ever to be obedient.
That son that Thou to me hast sent
Offer I will to Thee
Thy bidding done shall be.
(Here Abraham, turning to his son Isaac, saith:)
Make thee ready, my dear darling,
For we must do a little thing.
Here Isaac speaketh to his father,
and taketh a bundle of sticks and
beareth after his father, and saith:
Father, I am all ready.
Abraham:
This woodë do on thy back it bring,
We may no longer abide.
A sword and fire that I will take,
For sacrifice behoves me to make;
God's bidding will I not forsake,
But ever obedient be.
Isaac:
Father, I am all ready
To do your bidding most meekëly,
And to bear this wood full bayn am I,
As you commanded me.
(Here they both go to the place to do sacrifice)
Abraham:
Now, Isaac son, go we our way
To yonder mount if that we may.
Isaac:
My dear father, I will essay
To follow you full fain.
Abraham being minded to slay his son Isaac,
lifts up his hands, and saith the following:
O! My heart will break in three,
To hear thy words I have pitye;
As Thou wilt, Lord, so must it be,
To Thee I will be bayn.
Lay down thy faggot, my own son dear.
Isaac:
All ready, father, lo, it is here.
But why make you such heavy cheer?
Are you anything adread?
Abraham:
Ah! Dear God! That me is woe!
Isaac:
Father, if it be your will,
Where is the beast that we shall kill?
Abraham:
Thereof, son, is none upon this hill.
Isaac:
Father, I am full sore affeared
To see you bear that drawnë sword.
Abraham:
Isaac, son, peace, I pray thee,
Thou breakest my heart even in three.
Isaac:
I pray you, father, layn nothing from me,
But tell me what you think.
Abraham:
Ah! Isaac, Isaac, I must thee kill!
Isaac:
Alas! Father, is that your will,
Your ownë child for to spill
Upon this hillës brink?
If I have trespassed in any degree,
With a yard you may beat me;
Put up your sword, if your will be,
For I am but a child.
Would God my mother were here with me!
She would kneel down upon her knee,
Praying you, father, if it may be,
For to save my life.
Abraham:
O Isaac, son, to thee I say
God hath commanded me today
Sacrifice, this is no nay,
To make of thy bodye.
Isaac:
Is it God's will I shall be slain?
Abraham:
Yea, son, it is not for to layn.
Here Isaac asketh his father's blessing on his
knees, and saith:
Father, seeing you mustë needs do so,
Let it pass lightly and over go;
Kneeling on my kneës two,
Your blessing on me spread.
Abraham:
My blessing, dear son, give I thee
And thy mother's with heart free.
The blessing of the Trinity,
My dear Son, on thee light.
Hence Isaac riseth and cometh to his father, and
he taketh him, and bindeth and layeth him upon
the altar to sacrifice him, and saith:
Come hither, my child, thou art so sweet,
Thou must be bound both hands and feet.
Isaac:
Father, do with me as you will,
I must obey, and that is skill,
Godes commandment to fulfill,
For needs so it must be.
Abraham:
Isaac, Isaac, blessed must thou be.
Isaac:
Father, greet well my brethren ying,
And pray my mother of her blessing,
I come no more under her wing,
Farewell forever and aye.
Abraham:
Farewell, my sweetë son of grace!
Here Abraham doth kiss his son Isaac, and binds
a kerchief about his head.
Isaac:
I pray you, father, turn down my face,
For I am sore adread.
Abraham:
Lord, full loth were I him to kill!
Isaac:
Ah, mercy, father, why tarry you so?
Abraham:
Jesu! On me have pity,
That I have most in mind.
Isaac:
Now, father, I see that I shall die:
Almighty God in majesty!
My soul I offer unto Thee!
Abraham:
To do this deed I am sorryë.
Here let Abraham make a sign as though he
would cut off his son Isaac's head with his
sword;
Then God speaketh:
Abraham! my servant dear, Abraham!
Lay not thy sword in no manner
On Isaac, thy dear darling.
For thou dreadest me, well wot I,
That of thy son has no mercy,
To fulfil my bidding.
Abraham riseth and saith:
Ah, Lord of heaven and King of bliss,
Thy bidding shall be done, i-wiss!
A hornëd wether here I see,
Among the briars tied is he,
To Thee offered shall he be
Anon right in this place.
Then let Abraham take the lamb and kill him.
Sacrifice here sent me is,
And all, Lord, through Thy grace.
Envoi:
Such obedience grant us, O Lord!
Ever to Thy most holy word.
That in the same we may accord
At this Abraham was bayn;
And then altogether shall we
That worthy King in heaven see,
And dwell with Him in great glorye
For ever and ever, Amen.
