Texts and Translations

Texts and Translations
(Texts and translations have been supplied to Vocal Arts DC by the artist’s management,
and have not been edited or altered in any way.)
“Adelaide,” op. 46
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
Poem by FRIEDRICH VON MATTHISSON (1761 - 1831)
Einsam wandelt dein Freund im Frühlingsgarten,
Mild vom lieblichen Zauberlicht umflossen,
Das durch wankende Blütenzweige zittert,
Adelaide!
In der spiegelnden Flut, im Schnee der Alpen,
In des sinkenden Tages Goldgewölken,
Im Gefilde der Sterne strahlt dein Bildnis,
Adelaide!
Abendlüfte im zarten Laube flüstern,
Silberglöckchen des Mais im Grase säuseln,
Wellen rauschen und Nachtigallen flöten:
Adelaide!
Einst, o Wunder! entblüht auf meinem Grabe
Eine Blume der Asche meines Herzens;
Deutlich schimmert auf jedem Purpurblättchen:
Adelaide!
“Adelaide”
Your friend wanders alone in the garden of spring,
Gently bathed in lovely magical light,
Which shimmers through the swaying branches of flowers:
Adelaide!
In the reflection of the river, in the snows of the Alps,
In the golden clouds of sinking day,
In the fields of stars thy face beams forth,
Adelaide!
Evening breezes whisper through the tender leaves
The silver bells at Maytime rustle in the grass,
Waves roar and nightingales sing,
Adelaide!
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Some day, o miracle! a flower will blossom,
Upon my grave from the ashes of my heart;
And clearly on every violet petal will shine:
Adelaide!
Translation by Unknown
Insert applause symbol
“À Chloris”
REYNALDO HAHN (1875-1947)
Poem by THÉOPHILE DE VIAU (1590 - 1626)
S'il est vrai, Chloris, que tu m'aimes,
Mais j'entends, que tu m'aimes bien,
Je ne crois point que les rois mêmes
Aient un bonheur pareil au mien.
Que la mort serait importune
De venir changer ma fortune
A la félicité des cieux!
Tout ce qu'on dit de l'ambroisie
Ne touche point ma fantaisie
Au prix des grâces de tes yeux.
“To Chloris”
If it be true, Chloris, that thou lovst me,
And I understand that thou dost love me well,
I do not believe that even kings
Could know such happiness as mine.
How unwelcome death would be,
If it came to exchange my fortune
With the joy of heaven!
All that they say of ambrosia
Does not fire my imagination
Like the favour of thine eyes.
Translation by Unknown
"Quand je fus pris au pavillon"
REYNALDO HAHN (1875-1947)
Poem by CHARLES, DUC D'ORLÉANS (1394 - 1465)
Quand je fus pris au pavillon
De ma dame, très gente et belle,
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Je me brûlai à la chandelle
Ainsi que fait le papillon.
Je rougis comme vermillon,
A la clarté d'une étincelle,
Quand je fus pris au pavillon.
Si j'eusse été esmerillon
Ou que j'eusse eu aussi bonne aile,
Je me fusse gardé de celle
Qui me bailla de l'aiguillon
Quand je fus pris au pavillon.
"When I was Possessed"
When I was possessed
By my fair and charming lady,
I burned myself at the flame
Just as does the butterfly.
I blushed bright red
By the brilliant light,
When I was possessed
By my fair and charming lady.
Were I as swift as a merlin,
Or had I speedy wings,
I would fly away from the one
Who stung me,
When I was possessed.
Translation: Waldo Lyman
"Chanson au bord de la fontaine"
REYNALDO HAHN (1875-1947)
Poem by MAURICE MAGRE (1877 - 1941)
O blanches colombes du soir,
Quand je viendrai m'asseoir
Sur la pierre de la fontaine,
A l'heure où tout est noir,
Je vous dirai ma grande peine
Et mon espoir.
O blanches colombes du soir,
Envoyez alors votre reine sur le lavoir;
Je lui dirai pourquoi je traîne
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ce désespoir;
Je lui dirai ma grande peine
Et mon espoir.
“Song at the edge of the fountain”
O pale evening doves,
When I come to sit
On the stone of the fountain,
At the hour when all is dark,
I will tell you of my great sorrow
And my hope.
O pale evening doves,
Send your queen to the basin;
I will tell her why I am oppressed
With desperation.
I will tell her of my great sorrow
And my hope.
Translation by Unknown
“Paysage”
REYNALDO HAHN (1875-1947)
Poem by ANDRÉ THEURIET (1833 - 1907)
A deux pas de la mer qu'on entend bourdonner
Je sais un coin perdu de la terre bretonne
Où j'aurais tant aimé, pendant les jours d'automne,
Chère, à vous emmener!
Des chênes faisant cercle autour d'une fontaine,
Quelques hêtres épars, un vieux moulin désert,
Une source dont l'eau claire a le reflet vert
De vos yeux de sirène
La mésange, au matin, sous la feuille jaunie,
Viendrait chanter pour nous
Et la mer, nuit et jour,
Viendrait accompagner nos caresses d'amour
De sa basse infinie!
“A Landscape”
Quite close to the murmuring sea,
I know a hidden spot in Britanny,
Where, on autumn days, I would love so much
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To take you, my darling!
Oak trees forming a circle around a fountain,
Some scattered hedges, an old deserted mill,
A spring’s clear water, with green reflections
Of your siren-like eyes;
Mornings, a bird under the yellow foliage
Would come to sing for us…
And the sea, by night and by day,
Would accompany our caresses of love
With its never-tiring bass voice.
Translation: Waldo Lyman
Insert applause symbol
“Music for a While”
HENRY PURCELL (1659-1695)
Poem by JOHN DRYDEN (1631-1700) and NATHANIEL LEE (1653?-1692)
Music for a while
Shall all your cares beguile:
Wond'ring how your pains were eas'd
And disdaining to be pleas'd
Till Alecto free the dead
From their eternal bands,
Till the snakes drop from her head,
And the whip from out her hands.
“I’ll Sail Upon the Dog Star”
HENRY PURCELL (1659-1695)
Poem by THOMAS D’URFEY (1653-1723),
based on a text by JOHN FLETCHER (1579-1625)
I'll sail upon the Dog Star,
And then pursue the morning,
I'll chase the moon 'till it be noon,
But I'll make her leave her horning.
I'll climb the frosty mountain,
And there I'll coin the weather;
I'll tear the rainbow from the sky,
And tie both ends together.
The stars pluck from their orbs, too,
And crowd them in my budget!
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And whether I'm a roaring boy,
Let all the nations judge it.
“Sweeter than Roses”
HENRY PURCELL (1659-1695)
Poem by ANONYMOUS
Sweeter than roses, or cool evening breeze
On a warm flowery shore, was the dear kiss,
First trembling made me freeze,
Then shot like fire all o'er.
What magic has victorious love!
For all I touch or see since that dear kiss,
I hourly prove, all is love to me.
Insert applause symbol
Intermission
"Auf dem See," op. 59, no. 2
JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Poem by KARL JOSEPH SIMROCK (1802-1876)
Blauer Himmel, blaue Wogen,
Rebenhügel um den See,
Drüber blauer Berge Bogen
Schimmernd weiß im reinen Schnee.
Wie der Kahn uns hebt und wieget,
Leichter Nebel steigt und fällt,
Süßer Himmelsfriede lieget
Über der beglänzten Welt.
Stürmend Herz, tu auf die Augen,
Sieh umher und werde mild:
Glück und Friede magst du saugen
Aus des Doppelhimmels Bild.
Spiegelnd sieh die Flut erwidern
Turm und Hügel, Busch und Stadt,
Also spiegle du in Liedern,
Was die Erde Schönstes hat.
“At the Lake”
Blue sky, blue waves,
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Vine-clad hills around the lake,
Above them the arcs of blue mountains,
Shimmering white in the pure snow.
As the boat lifts us and rocks,
A light mist rises and falls,
The sweet peace of heaven lies
Over the glistening world.
Stormy heart, open your eyes,
Look around and become gentle:
You may absorb happiness and peace
From the double image of heaven.
See how the mirror of the water replicates
Every tower and hill, bush and town:
May you thus reflect in songs
All that is most beautiful on earth.
"Ständchen," op. 106, no. 1
JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Poem by FRANZ THEODOR KUGLER (1808-1858)
Der Mond steht über dem Berge,
So recht für verliebte Leut';
Im Garten rieselt ein Brunnen,
Sonst Stille weit und breit.
Neben der Mauer im Schatten,
Da stehn der Studenten drei,
Mit Flöt' und Geig' und Zither,
Und singen und spielen dabei.
Die Klänge schleichen der Schönsten
Sacht in den Traum hinein,
sie schaut den blonden Geliebten
und lispelt: »Vergiß nicht mein!«
“Serenade”
The moon is over the mountain,
Just right for people in love;
In the garden a fountain is rippling,
Otherwise all is quiet, far and wide.
Next to the wall, in the shadow,
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Three of the students are standing,
With a flute, a violin, and a zither;
And they sing and play.
The sounds steal softly into
The dream of the most beautiful girl,
She sees her blond beloved
And whispers: “Don’t forget me!”
"Nicht mehr zu dir zu gehen," op. 32, no. 2
JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Poem by GEORG FRIEDRICH DAUMER (1800 - 1875)
Nicht mehr zu dir zu gehen
Beschloß ich und beschwor ich,
Und gehe jeden Abend,
Denn jede Kraft und jeden Halt verlor ich.
Ich möchte nicht mehr leben,
Möcht' augenblicks verderben,
Und möchte doch auch leben
Für dich, mit dir, und nimmer, nimmer sterben.
Ach, rede, sprich ein Wort nur,
Ein einziges, ein klares;
Gib Leben oder Tod mir,
Nur dein Gefühl enthülle mir, dein wahres!
"To Go to You No More"
I resolved to go to you no more,
And I swore an oath that I would not—
And yet I go there every evening,
For I have lost all strength and all firmness of will.
I would like not to live any longer,
I would like to perish in a moment,
--and yet I would like also to live
For you, with you, and never, never to die.
Ah speak, speak just one word,
A single word, a clear word;
Give me life or death,
But reveal to me your feelings, your true feelings!
“Mein Mädel hat einen Rosenmund,” WoO 33, no. 25
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JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Text: FOLKSONG
Mein Mädel hat einen Rosenmund,
Und wer ihn küßt, der wird gesund;
O du! o du! o du!
O du schwarzbraunes Mägdelein,
Du la la la la!
Du läßt mir keine Ruh!
Die Wangen sind wie Morgenröt
Wie sie steht überm Winterschnee.
O du, o du, o du!
O du, schwarzbraunes Mägdelein,
Du lalalalala!
Du läßt mir keine Ruh!
Dein Augen sind wie die Nacht so schwarz,
Wenn nur zwei Sternlein funkeln drin;
O du! o du! o du!
O du schwarzbraunes Mägdelein,
Du la la la la!
Du läßt mir keine Ruh!
Du Mädel bist wie der Himmel gut,
Wenn er über uns blau sich wölben tut;
O du! o du! o du!
O du schwarzbraunes Mägdelein,
Du la la la la!
Du läßt mir keine Ruh!
"My Girl Has a Rose-Red Mouth"
My girl has a rose-red mouth,
And whoever kisses it becomes healed of what ails him!
Oh you! O you! O you!
O you dark haired little girl,
You lalalalala!
You leave me no rest!
Your cheeks are like the dawn,
As it hovers over the winter snow.
Oh you! O you! O you!
O you dark haired little girl,
You lalalalala!
You leave me no rest!
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Your eyes are as dark as the night sky
When only two little stars are sparking in it;
Oh you! O you! O you!
O you dark haired little girl,
You lalalalala!
You leave me no rest!
You, girl, are as kind as heaven,
When its vault is blue above us;
Oh you! O you! O you!
O you dark haired little girl,
You lalalalala!
You leave me no rest!
"O wüsst ich doch," op. 63, no. 8
JOHANNES BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Poem by KLAUS GROTH (1819–1899)
O wüßt ich doch den Weg zurück,
Den lieben Weg zum Kinderland!
O warum sucht' ich nach dem Glück
Und ließ der Mutter Hand?
O wie mich sehnet auszuruhn,
Von keinem Streben aufgeweckt,
Die müden Augen zuzutun,
Von Liebe sanft bedeckt!
Und nichts zu forschen, nichts zu spähn,
Und nur zu träumen leicht und lind;
Der Zeiten Wandel nicht zu sehn,
Zum zweiten Mal ein Kind!
O zeig mir doch den Weg zurück,
Den lieben Weg zum Kinderland!
Vergebens such ich nach dem Glück,
Ringsum is öder Strand!
"Oh If Only I Knew"
Oh if only I knew the way back,
The dear path to the land of childhood!
Oh why did I go searching for fortune
And leave my mother’s hand?
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Oh how I long to rest fully,
Not to be awakened by any aspiration,
To close my weary eyes
And let loving hands gently pull up the covers!
And to probe for nothing, to watch out for nothing,
Just to dream lightly and gently,
Not to notice the passing of time and the changes it brings,
For the second time to be a child!
Oh, please, show me the way back,
The dear path to the land of childhood!
In vain I search for fortune:
All I see around me is a bleak and empty shore!
Translations by Beaumont Glass
Insert applause symbol
“Pompe vane di morte… Dove sei” from Rodelinda
GEORGE FRIDERIC HANDEL (1685–1759)
Libretto by NICOLA FRANCESCO HAYM (1678-1729)
Pompe vane di morte!
Menzogne di dolor,
che riserbate il mio volto e'l mio nome,
ed adulate del vincitor superbo il genio altiero:
voi dite, ch'io son morto; ma risponde il mio duol,
che non è vero.
"Bertarido fu Re; da Grimoaldo vinto fuggì,
presso degli Unni giace.
Abbia l'alma riposo, e'l cener pace.”
Pace al cener mio? Astri tiranni!
Dunque fin ch'avrò vita,
guerra avrò con gli stenti, e con gli affanni.
Dove sei, amato bene!
Vieni, l'alma a consolar!
Sono oppresso da' tormenti
ed i crudeli miei lamenti
sol con te posso bear.
“The hollow splendor of death… Where are you?”
The hollow splendor of death!
This sham of grief preserves
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my name and likeness,
and yet flatters the pride of the haughty victor!
You say that I am dead, but my grief replies
that it is not so.
“Bertarido was king. Defeated by Grimoaldo,
he fled and now lies near the Huns.
May his soul find rest and his ashes peace.”
Peace for my ashes? The tyranny of fortune!
So long as I live
I shall be fighting hardship and distress.
Where are you, my beloved?
Come and comfort my heart.
I am stricken with anguish
and only by your side
can my cruel sorrow be lightened
Translation: Kenneth Chalmers
Insert applause symbol
Selections from American Folk Songs
STEVEN MARK KOHN (b. 1957)
Texts from FOLKSONGS
"Ten Thousand Miles Away"
Sing I for a brave and a gallant barque;
For a stiff and a rattling breeze,
A bully crew and a captain true,
To carry me o’er the seas.
To carry me o’er the seas, my boys,
To my true love so gay,
Who went on a trip on a Government ship
Ten thousand miles away!
Oh, blow, ye winds, hi oh!
A-roaming I will go.
I’ll stay no more on England’s shore,
So let the music play.
I’ll start by the morning train
To cross the raging main,
For I’m on the road to my own true love,
Ten thousand miles away.
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My true love she was handsome,
My true love she was young.
Her eyes were blue as the violet’s hue,
And silv’ry was the sound of her tongue.
And silv’ry was the sound of her tongue, my boys,
And while I sing this lay,
She’s a-doing of the grand in a far off land,
Ten thousand miles away.
Oh, blow, ye winds, hi oh!
A-roaming I will go.
I’ll stay no more on England’s shore,
So let the music play.
I’ll start by the morning train
To cross the raging main!
For I’m on the road to my own true love,
Ten thousand miles away.
"On the Other Shore"
I have a mother gone to glory,
I have a mother gone to glory,
I have a mother gone to glory,
On the other shore.
By and by I’ll go to meet her,
By and by I’ll go to meet her,
By and by I’ll go to meet her,
On the other shore.
Won’t that be a happy meetin’?
Won’t that be a happy meetin’?
Won’t that be a happy meetin’?
On the other shore.
There we’ll see our good old neighbors,
There we’ll see our good old neighbors,
There we’ll see our good old neighbors,
On the other shore.
There we’ll see our blessed savior,
There we’ll see our blessed savior,
There we’ll see our blessed savior,
On the other shore.
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"Wanderin’"
I been a’ wand-rin’ early,
I been a’ wand-rin’ late,
From New York City to the Golden Gate.
An’ it looks like… I’m never gonna cease my wanderin’.
Been a’ workin’ in the army,
An’ workin’ on a farm,
All I got to show for it is the muscle in my arm.
An’ it looks like… I’m never gonna cease my wanderin’.
There’s snakes up on the mountain,
And eels in the sea.
‘Twas a red headed woman made a wreck of me.
An’ it looks like… I’m never gonna cease my wanderin’.
Ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
If whiskey don’t get you, than the woman must.
An’ it looks like… I’m never gonna cease my wanderin’.
"The Farmer’s Curst Wifeæ
There was an old man at the foot of the hill.
If he ain’t moved away, he’s a’ livin’ there still.
Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
The devil he come to his house one day,
Says “One of your fam’ly I’m gonna take away.”
Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
“Take her, my wife, with all a’ my heart,
And I hope, by golly, you never part.”
Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
The devil he put her up on his back,
And off to Hell he went, clickity clack.
Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
When he got her down to the gates of Hell,
He says “Punch up the fire, we’ll scorch her well.”
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Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
In come a little devil draggin’ a chain,
She upped with a hatched and split his brain!
Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
Now nine little devils went a’ climbin’ the wall
Saying’ “Take her back, daddy! She’ll a’ murder us all!”
Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
The old man was a’ peepin’ out of a crack,
And he saw the old Devil come draggin’ her back.
Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
Now, there’s one advantage women have over men.
They can all go to Hell! …and come back, again.
Sing hi diddle-i diddle-i fi
Diddle-i diddle-i day.
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