PROGRAM
Maori Traditional | Pokarekare ana Hine e hine Te iwi e |
JOHN IRELAND (1879–1962) | Earth’s Call |
Traditional, arr. BENJAMIN BRITTEN (1913–1976) | O waly, waly The Last Rose of Summer |
BRITTEN | “Seascape,” from On This Island “The Choirmaster’s Burial,” from Winter Words |
WILLIAM BOLCOM (b. 1938) | From Cabaret Songs
Toothbrush Time |
JAKE HEGGIE (b. 1961) | “That I did always love,” from Newer Every Day |
Samoan Traditional | Two songs to be announced. |
Egyptian Traditional | Two songs to be announced. |
LILI BOULANGER (1893–1918) | From Clairières dans le ciel
Elle etait descendue au bas de la prairie |
HENRI DUPARC (1848–1933) | La vie antérieure L’invitation au voyage Phidylé |
JULES MASSENET (1842–1912) | “Mademoiselle… Nous vivrons à Paris” from Manon |
TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS
JOHN IRELAND | |
Earth’s Call | |
The fresh air moves like water round a boat. The white clouds wander. Let us wander too. The whining, wavering plover flap and float. That crow is flying after that cuckoo. Look! Look! … they’re gone. What are the great trees calling? Just come a little farther, by that edge Of green, to where the stormy ploughland, falling Wave upon wave, is lapping to the hedge. Oh, what a lovely bank! Give me your hand. Lie down and press your heart against the ground. Let us both listen till we understand Each through the other, every natural sound… I can’t hear anything today, can you, But, far and near: ‘Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!’ |
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Traditional, arr. BRITTEN |
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O waly, waly |
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The water is wide, I cannot get o’er, And neither have I wings to fly. Give me a boat that will carry two, And both shall row, my love and I. O, down in the meadows the other day, I leaned my back up against some oak, A ship there is, and she sails the sea, O, love is handsome and love is fine, |
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The Last Rose of Summer | |
‘Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flow’r of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh. I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one, So soon may I follow, |
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BRITTEN |
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“Seascape,” from On This Island
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Look, stranger, at this island now The leaping light for your delight discovers, Stand stable here And silent be, That through the channels of the ear May wander like a river The swaying sound of the sea. Here at the small field’s ending pause Far off like floating seeds the ships |
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“The Choirmaster’s Burial,” from Winter Words
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He often would ask us That, when he died, After playing so many To their last rest, If out of us any Should here abide, And it would not task us, We would with our lutes Play over him By his grave-brim The psalm he liked best— The one whose sense suits “Mount Ephraim” And perhaps we should seem To him, in death’s dream, Like the seraphim. As soon as I knew But t’was said that, when Such the tenor man told |
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WILLIAM BOLCOM From Cabaret Songs |
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Toothbrush Time |
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It’s toothbrush time Ten a.m. again and toothbrush time Last night at half past nine it seemed OK But in the light of day not so fine at toothbrush time Now he’s crashing round my bathroom Now he’s reading my degree Perusing all my pills Reviewing all my ills And he comes out smelling like me Now he advances on my kitchen Now he raids every shelf Till from the pots and pans and puddles and debris Emerges three eggs all for himself Oh, how I’d be ahead if I’d stood out of bed I wouldn’t sit here grieving Waiting for the wonderful moment of his leaving At toothbrush time, toothbrush time Ten a.m. again and toothbrush time I know it’s sad to be alone It’s so bad to be alone Still I should’ve known That I’d be glad to be alone I should’ve known, I should’ve known Never should have picked up the phone and called him “Hey, uh, listen, um Oh, you gotta go too? So glad you understand And…” By the way, did you say Nine tonight again? See you then Toothbrush time |
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Waitin’
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Waitin’ waitin’ I’ve been waitin’ Waitin’ waitin’ all my life. That light keeps on hiding from me, |
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Over the Piano
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He sang songs to her over the piano Sang long songs to her over the piano Low, slow songs Lusty songs of love Loving songs of long-lost lust Just for her, just for her over the piano Until at last at half past four” |
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JAKE HEGGIE
“That I did always love,” from Newer Every Day |
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That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived — Enough — That I shall love alway — This — dost thou doubt — Sweet — |
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LILI BOULANGER From Clairières dans le ciel |
[English translations by Richard Stokes] |
Elle etait descendue au bas de la prairie |
She had reached the low-lying meadow |
Elle était descendue au bas de la prairie et, comme la prairie était toute fleurie de plantes dont la tige aime à pousser dans l’eau, ces plantes inondées je les avais cueillies. Bientôt, s’étant mouillée, elle gagna le haut de cette prairie-là qui était toute fleurie. Elle riait et s’ébrouait avec la grâce dégingandée qu’ont les jeunes filles trop grandes. Elle avait le regard qu’ont les fleurs de lavande. |
She had reached the low-lying meadow, and, since the meadow was all a-blossom with plants that like to grow in water, I had picked these flooded flowers. Soon, soaking wet, she reached the top of that blossoming meadow. She was laughing and gasping with the gawky grace of girls who are too tall. Her eyes looked like lavender flowers. |
Elle est gravement gaie |
She is solemnly cheerful |
Elle est gravement gaie. Par moments son regard se levait comme pour surprendre ma pensée. Elle était douce alors comme quand il est tard le velours jaune et bleu d’une allée de pensées. |
She is solemnly cheerful. At times she looked up, as if to catch what I was thinking. She was gentle then, like at dusk the yellow-blue velvet of a path of pansies. |
Parfois, je suis triste.
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Sometimes I am sad. |
Parfois, je suis triste. Et, soudain, je pense à elle. Alors, je suis joyeux. Mais je redeviens triste de ce que je ne sais pas combien elle m’aime. Elle est la jeune fille à l’âme toute claire, et qui, de dans son cœur, garde avec jalousie l’unique passion que l’on donne à un seul. Elle est partie avant que s’ouvrent les tilleuls, et, comme ils ont fleuri depuis qu’elle est partie, je me suis étonné de voir, ô mes amis, des branches de tilleuls qui n’avaient pas de fleurs. |
Sometimes I am sad. And suddenly, I think of her. Then, I am overjoyed. But I grow sad again, because I do not know how much she loves me. She is the girl with the limpid soul, and who, in her heart, guards with jealousy the unrivalled passion garnered for one alone. She went before the limes had blossomed, and since they flowered after she had gone, I was astonished to see, my friends, lime-tree branches devoid of flowers. |
HENRI DUPARC |
[English translations by Richard Stokes] |
La vie antérieure |
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J’ai longtemps habité sous de vastes portiques Que les soleils marins teignaient de mille feux, Et que leurs grands piliers, droits et majestueux, Rendaient pareils, le soir, aux grottes basaltiques. Les houles, en roulant les images des cieux, C’est là que j’ai vécu dans les voluptés calmes Qui me rafraîchissaient le front avec des palmes, |
For long I lived beneath vast colonnades Tinged with a thousand fires by ocean suns, Whose giant pillars, straight and majestic, Made them look, at evening, like basalt caves. The sea-swells, mingling the mirrored skies, It is there that I have lived in sensuous repose, Who fanned my brow with fronds of palm, |
L’invitation au voyage |
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Mon enfant, ma sœur, Songe à la douceur D’aller là-bas vivre ensemble! Aimer à loisir, Aimer et mourir Au pays qui te ressemble! Les soleils mouillés De ces ciels brouillés Pour mon esprit ont les charmes Si mystérieux De tes traîtres yeux, Brillant à travers leurs larmes. Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté, Vois sur ces canaux Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté, |
My child, my sister, Think how sweet To journey there and live together! To love as we please, To love and die In the land that is like you! The watery suns Of those hazy skies Hold for my spirit The same mysterious charms As your treacherous eyes Shining through their tears. There—nothing but order and beauty dwell, See on those canals There—nothing but order and beauty dwell, |
Phidylé |
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L’herbe est molle au sommeil sous les frais peupliers, Aux pentes des sources moussues, Qui, dans les prés en fleur germant par mille issues, Se perdent sous les noirs halliers. Repose, ô Phidylé! Midi sur les feuillages Un chaud parfum circule au détour des sentiers, Mais, quand l’Astre, incliné sur sa courbe éclatante, |
The grass is soft for sleep beneath the cool poplars On the banks of the mossy springs That flow in flowering meadows from a thousand sources, And vanish beneath dark thickets. Rest, O Phidylé! Noon on the leaves A warm fragrance floats about the winding paths, But when the sun, low on its dazzling curve, |
JULES MASSENET Manon, Act 1 duet: “Mademoiselle… Nous vivrons à Paris” |
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[Peu à peu et involontairement il s’est rapproché de Manon.]
DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON[à part]
Que son regard est tendre! DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX[au postillon, qui se retire] Soit, partons! MANON DES GRIEUX MANON MANON, DES GRIEUX DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON, DES GRIEUX |
[Involuntarily, Des Grieux has approached Manon, step by step.]
DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON[aside]
How gentle his expression is! DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX[to the postilion, who goes off] Fine, let’s be off! MANON DES GRIEUX MANON MANON, DES GRIEUX DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON DES GRIEUX MANON, DES GRIEUX |