peter frankl and janna baty

morse recital hall

October 9, 2011 • Sunday at 5 pmMusic by Beethoven, de Falla, Fischer,

Schumann, and Shostakovich

allan dean, trumpet

ani kavafian, violin

ole akahoshi, cello

Robert Blocker, Dean

Peter Franklpiano

Janna Batymezzo-soprano

faculty artist series

Ludwig van Beethoven1770–1827

Iván Fischerb. 1951

Robert Schumann1810–1856

with allan dean, trumpetani kavafian, violinole akahoshi, cello

Selected songs from Folkslieder and Neue Folkslieder Yo no quiero embarcarme (Spain), WoO 158a, No. 11Schöne Minka, ich muss scheiden (Ukraine), WoO 158a, No. 16O Might I But My Patrick Love! (Ireland), WoO 153, No. 16Ich mag di nit nehma (Tyrol), WoO158a, No. 8

Eine Deutsch–Jiddische Kantate 1. Dreistimmiges Preludium2. Wiegenlied3. Deutsche Arie4. Jiddische Arie5. Grabschrift

Frauenliebe und -leben, Op. 421. Seit ich ihn gesehen 2. Er, der Herrlichste von allen 3. Ich kann’s nicht fassen, nicht glauben4. Du Ring an meinem Finger5. Helft mir, ihr Schwestern6. Süßer Freund, du blickest 7. An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust8. Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz getan

intermission

janna baty, soprano • peter frankl , piano

October 9, 2011 • Sprague Memorial Hall • Faculty Artist Series

Dmitri Shostakovich1906–1975

Manuel de Falla1876–1946

Seven Romances on Poems of Alexander Blok, Op. 1271. Pesnya Ofeliya2. Gamayun, ptitsa veshaya3. My byli vmesta4. Gorod spit5. Burya6. Tainya znaki7. Muzika

Siete canciones populares españolas (1914)1. El paño moruno2. Seguidilla Murciana3. Asturiana4. Jota5. Nana (Berceuse)6. Canción7. Polo

As a courtesy to the performers and audience, turn off cell phones and pagers. Please do

not leave the hall during selections. Photography or recording of any kind is prohibited.

Pianist Peter Frankl made his London debut in 1962 and his New York debut with the Cleveland Orchestra under George Szell in 1967. Since that time he has performed with many of the world’s finest orchestras, including the Berlin Philharmonic, Concertgebouw, Israel Philharmonic, Orchestre de Paris, all the London orchestras, and the major American orchestras. He has collaborated with such eminent conductors as Abbado, Boulez, Davis, Haitink, Maazel, Masur, Muti, Salonen, and Solti, and his world tours have taken him to Japan, Korea, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa. He has appeared over twenty times at London’s BBC Promenade Concerts and has been a regular participant at the Edinburgh, Cheltenham, Aldeburgh, Verbier, Kumho, and Casals Festivals.

In the United States, Peter Frankl has been a regular guest artist at festivals including Aspen, Chautauqua, Marlboro, Norfolk, Ravinia, Santa Fe, and Yellow Barn. For many years the Frankl-Pauk-Kirshbaum Trio traveled the world. His many chamber music partners have included Kyung Wha Chung, Peter Csaba, Ralph Kirshbaum, and the Tokyo, Takács, Guarneri, Bartók, Fine Arts, and Lindsay quartets. He has given master classes all over the world, including the Royal Academy and Royal College in London, the Liszt Academy in Budapest, Van Cliburn Institute in Texas, and in Beijing, Hong Kong, and Seoul.

Among his recordings are the complete works for piano by Schumann and Debussy, Bartók and Chopin solo albums, a Hungarian anthology, concertos and four-hand works by Mozart, the two Brahms piano concertos, the Brahms violin and clarinet sonatas, the Brahms trios, Bartók pieces for violin and piano, and the piano quintets by Brahms, Schumann, Dvorák, Martinu, and both Dohnányis.

In recognition of his artistic achievements, Mr. Frankl was awarded the Officer’s Cross by the Hungarian Republic, and on his se-ventieth birthday he was given one of the highest civilian awards in Hungary for his lifetime artistic achievement in the world of music. He is an honorary professor of the Liszt Academy and has been on the Yale School of Music faculty since 1987.

About the Artists

Praised by the Boston Globe for “a rich, viola– like tone and a rapturous, luminous lyricism,” soprano Janna Baty enjoys an exceptionally versatile career. She has sung with Boston Symphony, Los Angeles Philharmonic, Daejeon Philharmonic, Hamburgische Staatsoper, L’Orchestre National du Capitole de Toulouse, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Tallahassee Symphony, Tuscaloosa Symphony, Longwood Symphony, Hartford Symphony, the Orquesta Filarmónica de Bogotá, Opera Theatre of St. Louis, Eugene Opera, Opera North, and Boston Lyric Opera. She has sung under the batons of James Levine, Seiji Ozawa, Michel Plasson, Carl Davis, Robert Spano, Steuart Bedford, Stephen Lord, Stefan Asbury, Gil Rose, David Hoose, and Shinik Hahm, among numerous others.

As a soloist, chamber musician, and recitalist, she has performed at festivals worldwide, including the Aldeburgh and Britten Festivals in England, the Varna Festival in Bulgaria, the Semanas Musicales de Frutillar Festival in Chile, and the Tanglewood, Norfolk, Monadnock, and Coastal Carolina festivals in the United States.

A noted specialist in contemporary music, Ms. Baty has worked alongside many cele- brated composers, including John Harbison, Bernard Rands, Yehudi Wyner, Sydney Hodkinson, Peter Child, Reza Vali, Paul Salerni, and Paul Moravec, on performances of their music. Ms. Baty has enjoyed a long collaboration with Boston Modern Orchestra Project, and with them has recorded the critically lauded Vali:Folk Songs (sung in Persian); Lukas Foss’ opera Griffelkin; the world premiere recording of Eric Sawyer’s Civil War-era opera Our American Cousin; and John Harbison’s Mirabai Songs.

An alumna of Oberlin College and the Yale School of Music, she joined the faculty of the Yale School of Music in 2008.

About the Artists

Allan Dean is Professor of Trumpet (Adjunct) at the Yale University School of Music and is currently performing with Summit Brass, St. Louis Brass and the Yale Brass Trio. In the early music field he was a founding member of Calliope: A Renaissance Band and the New York Cornet and Sacbut Ensemble. Dean was a member of the New York Brass Quintet for 18 years and freelanced in the New York City concert and recording field for over 20 years before joining the faculty of Indiana University in l982. Upon retirement of the New York Brass Quintet in 1984, Dean joined the St. Louis Brass. In 1989 he moved back to the Northeast to join the Yale faculty. At Yale, Dean coaches brass chamber music and directs the Yale Cornet and Sacbut Ensemble in addition to teaching trumpet.

Dean performs and teaches each summer at the Mendez Brass Institute and the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival in Norfolk, Conn. He is a frequent soloist with Keith Brion’s New Sousa Band. Dean has also appeared at the Speleto and Casals Festivals, the Banff Centre (Canada), the Orford Arts Centre (Canada), Musiki Blekinge (Sweden), the Curitiba Music Festival (Brazil), and the Morella Festival (Spain). He can be heard playing both modern trumpet and early brass on over 80 recordings on most major labels including RCA, Columbia, Nonesuch, Summit and others. On early instruments he has recorded with Calliope, the New York Cornets and Sacbuts, the Waverly Consort, the Ensemble for Early Music, and the Smithsonian Chamber Players.

Dean joined the Yale faculty in 1988. He previously served on the faculties of Indiana University, the Manhattan School of Music, the Hartt School, and the Eastman School.

Dean lives in the Berkshire Mountains of Western Massachusetts with his wife, Julie Shapiro, an artist, and his daughter, Eloisa, 15. He is an avid tennis player and practices hatha yoga daily.

About the Artist

Violinist Ani Kavafian’s career has been marked by great diversity with performances as soloist with major orchestras, as a chamber musician, and as a recitalist. She is also in great demand as a teacher, having taught at Mannes School of Music, Manhattan, Queens College, McGill University, and suny-Stony Brook, capped by her appoint-ment as Professor in the Practice of Violin at the Yale School of Music in 2006.

Ms. Kavafian has appeared as soloist with the New York Philharmonic, the Philadelphia and Cleveland Orchestras, and the Los Angeles and St. Paul Chamber Orchestras. Along with her sister, Ida, she has appeared around the country in recital as well as soloists with orchestras.

An artist member of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center since 1979, Ani Kavafian continues to tour around the United States as well as in Canada and Asia. Her appearances at Alice Tully Hall in New York City have now numbered well over 1000. Ms. Kavafian is also a member of Trio da Salo with violist Barbara Westphal and cellist Gustav Rivinius. She is a founding member of The Triton Horn Trio with William Purvis and Mihae Lee. Ms. Kavafian has also joined with clarinetist David Shifrin and pianist Andre-Michel Schub and with them tours around the country as both vio-linist and violist. Along with cellist Carter Brey, she is the artistic director of the New Jersey chamber music series Mostly Music.

In 1979 Ms. Kavafian was awarded the Avery Fisher Prize. She has appeared at the White House on three occasions and has been featured on many network and PBS television music specials. Recently Ms. Kavafian and Kenneth Cooper released a live recording of Bach’s Six Sonatas for violin and fortepiano on the Kleos Classics label. In 2007, a recor-ding of Mozart piano and violin sonatas with pianist Jorge Federico Osorio was released by Artek.

About the Artist

About the Artists

Hailed by the Los Angeles Times for his “tech- nical solidity, perfect intonation, and large edgeless tone of buttered-rum quality,” German cellist Ole Akahoshi has concertized on four continents in recitals and as soloist with or-chestras, such as the Orchestra of St. Luke’s under Yehudi Menuhin and Symphonisches Orchester Berlin. He has won numerous competitions and is a reci-pient of the fellowship award from Charlotte White’s Salon de Virtuosi. Mr. Akahoshi has performed in such venues as Avery Fisher Hall, Benaroya Hall, Carnegie Hall, Kennedy Center, Suntory Hall (Tokyo), Seoul Arts Center, National Center for Performing Arts (Beijing), Shanghai Concert Hall, Wigmore Hall (London), Wiener Musikverein, and Berliner Philharmonie. His performances have been featured on CNN, NPR, WQXR, Korean Broadcasting, and all the major German stations. He has recorded for the Albany, New World, CRI, Calliope, Bridge, Sanga, and Naxos labels; his most recent

releases include the String Quartet by Behzad Ranjbaran and the Mendelssohn Octet with Gil Shaham.

Ole Akahoshi has collaborated with the Tokyo, Michelangelo, and Keller quartets and with Shmuel Ashkenasy, Sarah Chang, Chee-Yun, Lawrence Dutton, Myung Wha Chung, Edgar Meyer, Jian Wang, Leon Fleisher, and Garrick Ohlsson, among many others. He has performed and served as faculty at the Banff Centre, Norfolk Chamber Music Festival, Appalachian Summer Festival, Aspen Music Festival, Festival des Artes Brazil, and Korea’s Great Mountains Music Festival. He has given numerous master classes across the globe and has served as a judge for the Juilliard Concerto Competition and the Eastern Connecticut Symphony Competition, among others.

At age eleven, Ole Akahoshi was the youngest student to be accepted by Pierre Fournier. He received a bachelor’s degree from Juilliard and a master’s degree from Yale, where he studied with Aldo Parisot, as well as an artist diploma from Indiana University under János Starker. Mr. Akahoshi has served as teaching assistant for both Aldo Parisot and János Starker. He is the principal cellist of the Sejong Soloists and a member of the Saito Kinen Orchestra. He has been teaching at the Manhattan School of Music since 2004 and is an assistant professor of cello at the Yale School of Music.

beethoven: Selections from Folkslieder and Neue Folkslieder

Yo no quiero embarcarme, Pues es muy cierto Que no cuantos náveganLlegan al puerto.

Amor que tiene juicio Poco amor tiene,Que el amor al más cuerdoLoco le vuelve.

Siempre rabio por verteY si te veoNunca puedo decirteLo que te quiero.

Schöne Minka, ich muß scheiden!Ach, du fühltest nicht das Leiden,Fern auf freudenlosen HeidenFern zu sein von dir!

Finster wird der Tag mir scheinen,Einsam wird’ ich gehen und weinen;Auf den Bergen, in den HainenRuf ’ ich, Minka, dir!

Tief verstummen meine Lieder,Meine Augen schlag’ ich nieder,Aber seh’ ich einst dich wieder,Dann wird’ s anders sein!

Ob auch all die frischen FarbenDeiner Jugendblüte starben:Ja, mit Wunden und mit NarbenBist du, Süßer, mein!

I don’t want to sail awaySince it’s certainThat not every sailorComes back to shore.

Love that is burdened with trialsIs a miserable love,And crazy loveComes to him who is more judicious.

I’m always mad to see you, And if I see youI could never tell youEverything I wanted to.

Lovely Minka, I must tear myself from your side!Ah, you don’t feel the pain,Far off upon joyless plains,Of being far from you!

The days seem so dark to me,Alone I must go, weeping;Through the hills, in the grovesI call, Minka, for you!

My songs fall deeply silent,My eyes stare at the ground,But if I were to see you once more,It would be a different matter!

Even if all the fresh colorsOf your blossoming youth died:Yes, even with wounds and scarsYou are mine, Sweetest!

Texts and Translations

O Might I But My Patrick Love!Text by William Smyth

O might I but my Patrick love!My mother scolds severely,And tells me I shall wretched proveBecause I love him dearly.

In vain she rates me o’er and o’erWith lessons cold and endless;It only makes me love him more, to find him cold and friendless.

O Patrick, fly from meOr I am lost foreverOh! Fortune kinder be, Nor thus two Lovers sever!


What bliss, to me my Patrick cries,In splendor and in riches?He says, we love too little prize,That gold too much bewitches!

More blest the lark, tho’ hand its doomWhene’er the winter rages,Than birds, he says, of finer plumeThat mope in gilded cages.

O Patrick, fly from meOr I am lost foreverOh! Fortune kinder be, Nor thus two Lovers sever!

Ich mag di nit nehma,Du töppeter Hecht,Du darfst mir nit komma,Du warst mir viel z’schlecht;Und du willst mei Mann sein,Du städtishcer Aff,Was fallt dir nit no ein,Du törischer Laff.

Der Tölpel von PassauIst dein Contrase,Du kierst wie ein Spansau,Jetzt heb di und geh,Hör auf mit dein Raunzen,Das sag ich dir frue,I steck dir a Faunzen,Du talketer Bue.

I don’t like you,You rotten jerk.You’d better not come around here,After you treated me so badly;And you want to be my husband,You, the town ape?What on earth are you thinking,You ridiculous ninny?

The town idiot of PassauIs better than you.You turn like a pig on a spit,Now get up and get lost!Quit your bellyaching,I’m not going to ask you twice!I’ll box your ears, You big sissy!

iván fischerEine Deutsch-Jiddische Kantate

Dreistimmiges Preludium

WiegenliedTraditional Yiddish text

Shlof main fëgele,Mach tzu dain ëgele,Ai lu lu lu…

Shlof un zai gezind,Shlof geshmak main kind!Ai lu lu lu…

Shlof un cholem zis,Fun der velt genis,Ai lu lu lu…

Deutsche Ariefrom Rainer Maria Rilke, Ich Weiss es im Traum und der Traum Hat Recht

Mich hat nicht eine Mutter geboren.Tausend Mütter habenAn den kränklichen KnabenDie tausend Leben verloren,Die sie ihm gaben.

A German-Yiddish Cantata

Prelude in Three Voices

Lullaby

Sleep, my little bird,Close your eyes,Ai lu lu lu…

Sleep and be healthy,Sleep deliciously, my child!Ai lu lu lu;

Sleep and dream sweetly,Savor the world!Ai lu lu lu…

German Ariafrom Rainer Maria Rilke, I know it from my dream and the dream is right

A single mother did not give birth to me.A thousand mothersHave given birthTo the thousand lost lives,To these sickly boys.


Jiddische Ariefrom Avrom Sutzkever, Mayn Mame

Tsimblt, ir tsimblen,Derfreyt a gelekhter, fartoybt a geshrey.Durkh felderItst yogt men mayn naketer mamen,Ir layb iz a shtral in di shpiglen fun shney.

Kh’gefin anshtot dikh a tserisns dayn hemd,Nem ikh tsum hartsn un drik es farshemt.Es vern di likher fun hemd mayne tegUn der zoym funem hemd vert in harts mir a zeg.

Tserays ikh fun layb mayne kleyder un krikhIn dayn ofenem naketn hemd vi in zikh.S’iz mer nit keyn hemd, s’iz dayn likhtike hoyt,S’iz dayn kalter, dayn ibergeblibener toyt.

Redstu tsu mirAzoy vorhaftik ekht:Nite, mayn kind,S’iz a zind, s’iz a zind,

Un undzer tseteylungNem on far gerekht.

Az du bist farn, Bin ikh do say–vi–say,Vi der yoder in floymFarmogt shoyn dem boymUn di nest un dem foyglUn alts vos derbay.

Grabschiftfrom Goethe, Symbolum

Stille ruhn oben die SterneUnd unten die Gräber.

Yiddish Ariafrom Avrom Sutzkever, My Mother

Crash, cymbals!Turn into laughter, muffle outcry!Through fieldsThey are chasing after my naked mother,Her body a ray of light in the mirrors of snow.

Instead of you, I find your torn shirt,I clutch it to my heart in shame.The holes in the shirt become my daysAnd the seam of the shirt is like a saw in my heart.

I tear my clothes from my body and crawl Into your naked shirt as into my own skin.It is no longer a shirt, but your bright skin,It is cold, everlasting death.

You speak to meSo genuinely and truthfully:“Don’t, my child,It’s a sin, it’s a sin!

And our separation;Accept it as just.

So long as you exist,I am here, too,As the stone in the plumHas within it the treeAnd the nest and the birdAnd everything that surrounds it.”

Epitaphfrom Goethe, Creed

They rest silently beneath the starsAnd within the grave.


Dich rufen von drübenDie Stimmen der Geister,Die Stimmen der Meister:Versäumt nicht, zu üben Die Kräfte des Guten.

Hier winden sich KronenIn ewiger Stille,Die sollen mit FülleDie Tätigen lohnen!Wir heißen euch hoffen.

schumann: Frauenliebe und -lebenPoems by Adelbert von Chamisso

Seit ich ihn gesehen,Glaub ich blind zu seinWo ich hin nur blickeSeh’ ich ihn alleinWie im wachend TraumeSchwebt sein Bild mir vorTaucht aus tiefstem DunkelHeller nur empor.

Sonst ist licht und farblosAlles um mich her,Nach der Schwestern SpieleNicht begehr ich mehrMöchte lieber weinenStill im KämmerleinSeit ich ihn gesen,Glaub ich blind zu sein.

They call you from afar,The voices of the spirits,The voices of the masters:“Do not fail to practiceThe power of Good.

Here crowns entwineIn endless quiet,May they, in abundance,Receive their rewards!We wish you hope.”

Ever since I saw himI believe myself to be blind.Wherever I lookI see only him.As if in a waking dream,His image floats before mePlunging out of deepest darknessGrowing only brighter in ascent.

Everything is lightless and colorlessAll around meI no longer wish to playMy sisters’ games.I would much prefer to weepSoftly in my little roomEver since I saw himI believe myself to be blind.


Er, der Herrlichste von allen,Wie so milde, wie so gut!Holde Lippen, klares Auge,Heller Sinn und fester Mut.

So wie dort in blauer Tiefe,Hell und herrlich, jener Stern,Also er an meinem Himmel,Hell und herrlich, hehr und fern.

Wandle, wandle deine Bahnen, Nur betrachten deinen Schein, Nur in Demut ihn betrachten, Selig nur und traurig sein!

Höre nicht mein stilles Beten, Deinem Glücke nur geweiht; Darfst mich niedre Magd nicht kenen, Hoher Stern der Herrlichkeit!

Nur die Würdigste von allen Darf beglücken deine Wahl, Und ich will die Hohe segnen, Viele tausendmal.

Will mich freuen dann und weinen, Selig, selig bin ich dann; Sollte mir das Herz auch brechen, Brich, o Herz, was liegt daran?

Er, der Herrlichste von allen…

Ich kann’s nicht fassen, nicht glaubenEs hat ein Traum mich berückt;Wie hätt er doch unter allenMich Arme erhöht und beglückt?

He, the most magnificent of allHow gentle, how good!Beautiful lips, clear eyes,Bright mind and unswerving courage.

As far off in the deep blueEach star is bright and brilliant,So is he in my own firmamentBright and brilliant, noble and distant.

Go your way upon your life’s path,I only wish to gaze upon your radiance,To look upon it with humility,Simply to be blissful and sad!

Pay no heed to my silent prayer,That consecrates your happiness alone;You needn’t know of me, a lowly maiden,You, bright star of glory!

Only the most worthy woman of allWill be made happy by your favor,And I will bless that most exalted one,Many thousand times over.

I will rejoice then, and weep,And be blissful, so blissful then;If my heart should also break,Then break, my heart, what does it matter?

He, the most magnificent of all…

I can’t comprehend it, or believe itA dream has enchanted me;How could he have, then, above all others,Exalted poor me and made me happy?


Mir war’s, er habe gesprochen:“Ich bin auf ewig dein,”Mir war’s – ich träume noch immer,Es kann ja nimmer so sein.

O laß im Traume mich sterben,Gewieget an seiner Brust,Den seligen Tod mich schlürfenIn Tränen unendlicher Lust.

Ich kann’s nicht fassen, nicht glauben…

Du Ring an meinem FingerMein goldenes Ringelein,Ich drücke dich fromm an die Lippen,Dich fromm an das Herze mein.

Ich hatt ihn ausgeträumet,Der Kindheit friedlich schönen Traum,Ich fand allein mich, verlorenIm öden, unendlichen Raum.

Du Ring an meinem FingerDa hast du mich erst belehrt,Hast meinem Blick erschlossenDes Lebens unendlichen, tiefen Wert.

Ich will ihm dienen, ihm leben,Ihm angehören ganz,Hin selber mich geben und findenVerklärt mich in seinem Glanz.

Du Ring an meinem Finger,Mein goldenes Ringelein,Ich drücke dich fromm an die Lippen,Dich fromm an das Herze mein.

It seemed to me that he said:“I am yours forever,”It seemed to me I was dreaming all the while,It could truly never be!

Oh let me die in this dreamCradled upon his breast,Let blissful death drink me inIn tears of unending joy.

I can’t comprehend it, or believe it…

You, ring upon my finger, My little golden ringI press you reverently to my lipsAnd to my heart.

I was done dreamingThe lovely, peaceful dream of childhood.I found myself alone and lostIn an empty, infinite place.

You, ring upon my finger,Have shown me for the first time,Have opened my eyes,To life’s deep, immeasurable value.

I want to serve him, to live for him,To belong to him utterly,To give my entire being to him,And find myself transfigured in his gaze.

You, ring upon my finger, My little golden ringI press you reverently to my lipsAnd to my heart.


Helft mir, ihr Schwestern,Freundlich mich schmücken,Dient der Glücklichen heute mir,Windet geschäftig mir um die StirneNoch der blühenden Myrte Zier.

Als ich befriedigt,Freudigen Herzens,Sonst dem Geliebten im Arme lag,Immer noch rief er, sehnsucht im Herzen,Ungeduldig den heutigen Tag.

Helft mir, ihr Schwestern,Helft mir verscheuchenEine törichte Bangigkeit,Daß ich mit klarem aug ihn empfange,Ihn, die Quelle der Freudigkeit.

Bist, mein Geliebter,Du mir erschienen,Giebst du mir, Sonne, deinen Schein?Laß mich in Andacht, laß mich in Demut,Laß mich verneigen dem Herren mein.

Streuet ihm, Schwestern,Streuet ihm Blumen,Bringet ihm knospende Rosen dar,Aber euch, Schwestern, grüß ich mit WehmutFreudig scheidend aus eurer Schar.

Süßer Freund, du blickestMich verwundert an,Kannst es nicht begreifen,Wie ich weinen kann;Laß der feuchten Perlen,Ungewohnte ZierFreudig hell erzittern in dem Auge mir.

Wie so bang mein Busen,Wie so wonnevoll!Wüßt ich nur mit Worten,Wie ich’s sagen soll;

Help me, my sisters,Be kind and help me adorn myself,Serve me, the happiest one on earth today,Gaily entwine about my browA coronet of blossoming myrtle.

As I lay gratified,With a joyful heart,In the arms of my beloved,He kept calling out, with longing in his heart,Impatient for this day.

Help me, my sisters,Help me chase awayMy childish bashfulness,That I may behold him with a clear eye,He, the wellspring of joy.

Is it you, my beloved,Who appears before me?Do you bestow your radiance upon me, O Sun?Let me reverently, let me humblyKneel down before my lord.

Scatter, my sisters,Scatter flowers before him,Bring him budding roses.But I greet you, sisters, with melancholyAs I joyfully depart from your midst.

My dearest friend, you gaze at meIn wondermentYou cannot fathomHow I could weep;Let these moist pearls—Such extraordinary jewels!—Tremble bright and joyful in my eyes.

How restless my heart is,How filled with wonder!If only I knewHow to put it in words;


Komm und birg dein AntlitzHier an meiner Brust,Will in’s Ohr dir flüstern alle meine Lust.

Weißt du nun die Tränen,Die ich weinen kann?Sollst du nicht sie sehen,Du geliebter Mann?Bleib an meinem Herzen,Fühle dessen Schlag,Daß ich fest und festernur dich drücken mag.

Hier an meinem BetteHat die Wiege Raum,Wo sie still verbergeMeinen holden Traum;Kommen wird der Morgen,Wo der Traum erwacht,Und daraus dein BildnisMir entgegen lacht.

An meinem Herzen, an meiner BrustDu meine Wonne, du meine Lust!Das Glück ist die Liebe, die Lieb ist das Glück, Ich hab’s gesagt und nehm’s nicht zurück.Hab überschwenglich mich geschätztBin überglücklich aber jetzt.Nur die da säugt,Nur die da liebt das Kind,dem sie die Nahrung giebt;

Nur eine Mutter weiß alleinWas lieben heißtund glücklich sein.O, wie bedaur’ ich doch den Mann, Der Mutterglück nicht fühlen kann!

Du lieber, lieber Engel, duDu schauest mich an und lächelst dazu!An meinem Herzen, an meiner BrustDu meine Wonne, du meine Lust!

Come and nestle your faceHere on my bosom,And I’ll whisper all my joy in your ear.

Now do you understand these tearsThat I weep?Should I hide them from your sight,You beloved man?Linger on my heart,Feel its beat,That I may clasp you to meMore and more fervently.

Here by my bedThere will be room for the cradle,That will quietly embraceMy precious dream;The morning will comeWhen that dream will awaken,And from within your imageWill smile up at me.

Upon my heart, upon my bosomYou my bliss, you my joy!Happiness is love, love is happiness,So say I, and I won’t take it back!I believed myself to be overjoyed,But now I am enraptured.Only she who nurses,Only she who loves the childTo whom she gives nourishment;

Only a mother knowsWhat love means,And what it is to be happy.Oh, how I pity men,Who cannot feel a mother’s love!

You beloved, beloved angel,You gaze at me and smile!Upon my heart, upon my bosom,You my bliss, you my joy!


Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz getanDer aber traf.Du schläfst, du harter,Unbarmherz’ger Mann,Den Todesschlaf.

Es blicket die Verlaßnevor sich hin,Die Welt is leer.Geliebet hab ich und gelebt,Ich bin nicht lebend mehr.

Ich zieh michin mein Innres still zurück,Der Schleier fällt,Da hab ich dichund mein verlornes Glück,Du meine Welt!

shostakovich: Seven Romances on Poems of Aleksandr Blok

Pesnya OfeliyaRazluchajas s d’evoi miloi, drug,Ti kl’alsa mne l’ubit’!Uyezhaja v krai postyly,Kl’atvu dannuyu khranit’!..

Tam, za Daniei schastlivoi,Byeraga tvoi vo mgl’e…Val s’erdityj, govorlivyjMo’et sl’ozy na skal’e…

Mylyj voin ne vern’otca,Ves’ od’etyj v serebro…V grobe t’azhko vskolykhn’otcaBant I chornoe pero…

Now you have given me my first painAnd it has struck me like a blow.You are sleeping, you hard,Merciless man,The sleep of death.

The abandoned oneStares out,The world is empty.I have loved and lived,I live no longer.

I withdrawSilently into myself,The veil falls,There I have youAnd my lost happiness,You, my world!

Ophelia’s SongWhen you left this maiden, my dear friend,You pledged your love for me!Embarking for notorious shores,You swore to keep your promise.

There, beyond happy Denmark,The coasts are enshrouded in gloom...The angry, garrulous waves Splash like my tears upon the rocks...

My beloved warrior shall not return, All dressed in silver...His vestments and black plume willRestlessly lie in the grave.


Gamayun, ptitsa veshayaNa glad’akh beskon’echnikh vod,Zakatom v purpur obl’echonnykh,Ona veschajet i pojot,Ne v silakh kryl podn’at’ sm’at’onnykh

V’eshchaet igo zlykh tatar,V’eschaet kazn’ej r’ad krovavykh,I trus, i golod, i pozhar,Zlodejev silu, gibel’ pravykh…

Predv’echnym uzhasom objat,Pr’ekrasnyj lik gorit l’ubovju,No v’eschej pravdoju zvuchatUsta, zap’vekshi’esa krovju!

My byli vmestaMy byl’i vm’est’e, pomn’u ja…Noch volnovalas’, skripka p’ela…Ty vehti dn’i byla — maja,Ty skazhdym chasom khoroshela…

Skvoz’ tikho’e zhurchan’e struj,Skvoz’tajnu zhenstvennoj ulybkiKustam prosilsa potseluj,Prosilis’ vserdtse zvuki skripki…

Gorod spitGorod spit, okutan mgloju,Chut’ m’ertsajut fonari…Tam dal’oko za NevojuVizhu otbl’eski zar’i.

Vetom daln’em otrazhen’i,Vetikh otbleskekh ognyaPritailos’ probuzhden’eAn’ej, tosklivykh dl’a m’en’a…

Gamayun the Prophet BirdUpon the serene, infinite watersEnveloped in purple twilightShe prophesies and sings,Frustrated, unable to unfurl her wings.

She foretells the evil yoke of the Tartars,Predicts scores of bloody murders,And cowardice, and famine, and fire,Powerful villains, and the death of all righteousness.

Enveloped in an eternal nightmareHer beautiful face burns with love.Yet the truth rings outFrom parched, bloody lips.

We were togetherWe were together, I remember...That awkward evening, the violin sang.You were mine in those days.You grew more beautiful with each passing hour...

Through the quiet murmur of splashing water,Through the mysterious feminine smile,To lips begging to be kissed,The sounds of the violin were the yearning in my heart.

The City SleepsThe city sleeps, enveloped in mist,A few flickering lights…There, far away across the Neva,I see reflections of the rising sun.

In this far-off refraction,In that gleam of fireLurks the awakeningOf lonely days ahead…


BuryaO kak bezumno za konomRev’ot byshu’et bur’a zlajaNesuts’a tuchi, l’ut dozhd’om,I v’et’er vo’et, zamiraja!

Uzhasna noch! Vtakuyu nochMn’e zhal’ l’ud’ei l’ish’onnykh krova,Sozhal’enie gon’it proch –Vobjatja kholoda syrovo!

Borot’sa smrakom I dozhd’om,Stradaltsev uchast’ razd’el’aja.O, kak bezumno za oknomByshu’et v’et’er iznyvaja!

Tainya znakiRazgorajutsa tainye znakiNa glukhoi neprobudnoi sten’e.Zolotye I krasnye makiNado mnoi t’agot’ejut vo sn’e.

Ukryvajus’ vnochnye p’eshcheriyI n’e pomn’u surovykh chud’es.Na zar’e golubye khim’erySmotr’at vz’erkal’e jarkikh n’ebes.Ub’egaju vproshedshie migi,Zakryvaju ot strakha glaza,Na l’istakh kholod’ejushchei knigi,Zolotaja d’evichja kosa.

Nado mnoy nebosvod yzhe nizok,Chornyj son t’agot’eet v grudi.Moy konets prednachertannyi blizokI vojna, i pozhar – vpered.

MuzikaV nochi, kogda usn’ot tr’evogaI gorod skro’etsa vo mgl’e –O, skol’ko muzyki u boga,Kakie zvuki na zeml’e!

StormOh, how madly against my windowRoars and rages this wicked storm,The clouds rush, pouring rainAnd the wind is howling, plummeting!

A terrifying night! On such a nightI feel compassion for the destitute, the homeless:Pity drives me out of doorsTo embrace of the raw cold!

I fight against the darkness and rain,To share the fate of these outcasts.Oh, how madly against my windowRages the wind, fulminating in fury.

Secret SignsSecret signs begin to illuminateUpon a deaf and infinitely slumbering wall. Gold and crimson poppiesIncessantly gravitate to me as I sleep.

I harbor myself in the caves of nightAnd I do not remember these severe wonderlands. At the dawn, the blue chimeraIs reflected in the mirror-bright skies.I flee at the last moment,Closing my eyes to fear-The fair maiden with the golden hairIn the pages of antiquated books.

Heaven must be close at hand,Black sleep penetrates my breast.My fate is sealed, predestined,with the war and fire that lie before me.

MusicAt night, when anxiety is quieted by sleepAnd the city vanishes in the mist – It is like God’s music on earth,Such sounds!


Chto bur’a zhizn’i, jesl’i rozyTvoi tsvetut mn’e i gor’at!Chto chelov’echeskie sl’ozy,Kogda rum’an’itsa zakat!

Pr’im’i, vladychitsa vs’el’ennoj,Skvoz’krov’, skvoz’ muki, skvoz’ groba –Posl’edn’ei strasti kubok p’ennyiOt n’edostoinovo raba!

de falla Siete canciones populares españolasFolk texts except where otherwise noted

El paño morunoText by Gregorio Martínez Sierra

Al paño fino en la tienda,Una mancha le cayó;Por menos precio se vende,Porque perdió su valor.

Seguidilla Murciana

Cualquiera que el tejadoTenga de vidrio,No debe tirar piedrasAl del vecino.Arrieros semos;¡Puede que en el caminoNos encontremos!

Por tu mucha inconstanciaYo te comparoCon peseta que correDe mano en mano;Que al fin se borra,Y créyendola falsa¡Nadie la toma!

What do life’s storms matter, If your roses bloom and glow?What do human tears matter,When you see the radiant sunset?

Accept, Mistress of the Universe,By suffering, by blood, by death –This cup, filled to the brimWith the last passions of your unworthy slave!

The Moorish Cloth

Upon the fine cloth in a shopThere fell a stain.Now it sells for a lower priceBecause it has lost its value.

Seguidilla in the Style of Murcia

He who has a roofMade of glassShouldn’t throw rocksAt the neighbors.Let’s be muleteers;Perhaps on the roadWe’ll run into one another!

Because of your ficklenessI compare youTo a coin that is passedFrom hand to hand;That is eventually worn down,And, believing it to be counterfeit, Nobody will take it!


Asturiana

Por ver si me consolaba,Arrime a un pino verde,Por verme llorar, lloraba.Y el pino como era verde.

Jota Dicen que no nos queremos Porque no nos ven hablar;A tu corazón y al mioSe lo pueden preguntar.

Ya me despido de tí,De tu casa y tu ventana, Y aunque no quiera tu madre,Adiós, niña, hasta mañana.

Nana

Duérmete, niño, duerme, Duerme, mi alma,Duérmete, lucerito de la mañana.

Naninta, nana, Naninta, nana.Duérmete, lucerito de la mañana.

Asturian Woman

To see if I could console myself,I leaned against a green pine tree.Seeing me weep, it wept.And the pine tree, how green it was.

Jota [A Spanish style of music and dance]

They say we don’t care for each otherBecause they don’t see us speaking;They should askYour heart and mine!

I take my leave from you,From your house and your window,And even your mother doesn’t like it,Farewell, my girl, until tomorrow.

Lullabye

Sleep, baby, sleep,Sleep, my soul,Sleep, my little light of the morning.

LullayLullay Sleep, my little light of the morning.


Cancíon

Por traidores, tus ojos,voy a enterrarlos;No sabes lo que cuesta, “Del aire”Niña, el mirarlos, “Madre a la orilla.”

Dicen que no me quieres,Ya me has querido...Váyase lo ganado, “Del aire”Por lo perdido, “Madre a la orilla”.

Polo

¡Ay! Guarda una pena en mi pecho, Que nadie se la dire…¡Malhaya, el amor, Y quien me lo dió a entender!

Song

Since your eyes betray,I’m going to bury them in the ground.You don’t know what it costs me, “Miss Fly-by-night,”To look at them, “Miss Shilly-shally.”

They say you don’t love me,But you once did…To the winner, “Miss Fly-by-night,”Go the spoils, “Miss Shilly-shally.”

Polo [A traditional Spanish dance of Gypsy origin]

Ah! I have a pain in my heartThat I can tell to no one.Cursed be love,And he who led me to understand it!


Lucas Wong, piano

october 13

Sprague Hall | Thu | 8 pm Doctor of Musical Arts Recital

Hector Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique, transcribed by Franz Liszt; George Crumb:

Makrokosmos, Volume II: Twelve fantasy pieces after the Zodiac.

Free Admission.

Emma Kirkby, soprano

october 17

Sprague Hall | Mon | 8 pm Presented by the Yale Institute of Sacred MusicEmma Kirkby performs with lutenist Jakob

Lindberg. Love Songs, Lute Solos, and Laments: Music from 17th-Century Europe.

Music of Bacheler, Danyel, D’India, Johnson, Kapsperger, Lawes, Monteverdi, Morley, and

Strozzi. Free Admission.

Brentano String Quartet

october 18

Sprague Hall | Tue | 8 pm Oneppo Chamber Music Series

With Ignat Solzhenitsyn, piano.Haydn: String Quartet in D major, Op. 103;

Beethoven: String Quartet in F major, Op. 135; Schubert: Quartettsatz in C minor, Op. Post., D. 703; Ginastera: Piano Quintet.

Tickets $20–30; Students $10

Mikhail Rudy, piano

october 19

Sprague Hall | Wed | 8 pm Music of Scriabin and Stravinsky, and a multimedia performance of Mussorgky’s

Pictures at an Exhibition featuring projected animations of Kandinsky’s sketches and

watercolors from his original 1928 staging.Tickets $12–22; Students $6

Robert Blocker, Dean

Concerts & Public Relations: Dana Astmann, Danielle Heller, Dashon Burton

New Media: Monica Ong Reed, Austin KaseOperations: Tara Deming, Chris Melillo

Piano Curators: Brian Daley, William HaroldRecording Studio: Eugene Kimball

P.O. Box 208236, New Haven, CT · 203 432-4158 music.yale.edu

Upcoming Events

peter frankl and janna baty

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