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Artist Recital Series Presents Mezzo-Soprano Denyce Graves Wednesday, May 7

 


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DENYCE GRAVES
Mezzo-Soprano

J.J. PENNA
Piano

PROGRAM


I
Come again, sweet love doth now invite John Dowland
If music be the food of love, Z. 379 Henry Purcell
Music for a while, Z. 583 No. 2, from Orpheus Britannicus, Vol. II Purcell
Hence, Iris, hence away, from Semele George Handel
II
Verzagen, Op. 72, No. 4
Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer, Op. 105, No. 2
Von ewiger Liebe, Op. 43, No. 1
Botschaft, Op. 47, No. 1
Johannes Brahms
III
Le Manoire de Rosemonde
Chanson Triste
Au Pays ou se fait la guerre
Henri Duparc
IV
Mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix, from Samson et Dalila Camille Saint-Saëns
INTERMISSION
V
Aria to be announced from stage  
VI
Plancha Carlos Guastavino
Plomada Guastavino
With Vincent Thomas, clarinet  
Seguidilla murciana, from Siete Canciones poulares espanolas Manuel de Falla

Jota, from Siete Canciones poulares espanolas
de Falla
Te vas de mí José Maria Vitier
VII
His name is so sweet Traditional
Swing low, sweet chariot  
Deep River  
Every time I feel the spirit
 

*PROGRAM IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE*

COLUMBIA ARTISTS MANAGEMENT INC.
Personal Direction: JEFFREY D. VANDERVEEN, Vice-president
165 West 57th Street, New York, NY 10019

Denyce Graves records exclusively for RCA Red Seal.

www.cami.com

Texts and Translations


Come again, sweet love doth now invite

John Dowland
(?1563-1626)


Come again, sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces, that refrain
To do me due delight,
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die
With thee again in sweetest sympathy.

Come again, that I may cease to mourn
through thy unkind disdain.
For now left and forlorn
I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die
In deadly pain and endless misery.

All the night my sleeps are full of dreams,
my eyes are full of streams,
my heart takes no delight
to see the fruits and joys that some do find
and mark the storms are we assigned.

If music be the food of love, Z. 379
[Text: Heveningham, after Shakespeare]

HENRY PURCELL
Born September 10, 1659 in Westminster, London
Died July 31, 1695 in Westminster, London

If music be the food of love,
Sing on, sing on, sing on,
Sing on till I am fill'd with joy;
For then my list'ning soul you move,
To pleasures that can never cloy.
Your eyes, your mein, your tongue declare
That you are music ev'rywhere.

Pleasures invade both eye and ear,
So fierce, so fierce, so fierce,
So fierce the transports are, they wound,
And all my senses feasted are;
Tho' yet the treat is only sound,
Sure I must perish by your charms,
Unless you save me in your arms.

Music for a while, Z. 583 No. 2, from Orpheus Britannicus, Vol. II
[Text: John Dryden and Nathaniel Lee, from Oedipus]

HENRY PURCELL
Born September 10, 1659 in Westminster, London
Died July 31, 1695 in Westminster, London


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.

Hence, Iris, hence away, from Semele
[Text: William Congreve]

GEORGE FRIDERIC HANDEL
Born February 23, 1685 in Halle
Died April 14, 1759 in London


Hence, hence, Iris, hence away!
far from the realms of day,
o'er Scythian hills to the Maeotian lake,
a speedy flight we'll take!
There Somnus I'll compel his downy bed to leave, and silent cell;
with noise and light I will his peace molest,
nor shall he sink again to pleasing rest,
till to my vow'd revenge he grants supplies,
and seals with sleep the wakeful dragons' eyes.

Verzagen, Op. 72, No. 4
[Text: Lemcke]

JOHANNES BRAHMS
Born May 7, 1833 in Hamburg
Died April 3, 1897 in Vienna


Ich sitz' am Strande der rauschenden See
Und suche dort nach Ruh,
Ich schaue dem Treiben der Wogen
Mit dumpfer Ergebung zu.

Die Wogen rauschen zum Strande hin,
Sie schäumen und vergehen,
Die Wolken, die Winde darüber,
Die kommen und verwehn.

Du ungestümes Herz, sei still
Und gib dich doch zur Ruh',
Du sollst mit Winden und Wogen
Dich trösten - was weinest du?

Despair

I sit by the shore of the roaring sea
and there I search for peace;
I watch the crashing of the waves,
with heavy resignation.

The waves are rushing to the shore,
they foam and disappear;
the clouds, the winds above,
they come and blow away.

You turbulent heart, be still
and give yourself over to peace,
you should find comfort in the winds and waves -
why are you crying?

Translation ã 1999 Columbia Artists Management
by Janet Gillespie

Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer, Op. 105, No. 2
[Text: Herman Lingg]

JOHANNES BRAHMS
Born May 7, 1833 in Hamburg
Died April 3, 1897 in Vienna


Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer,
Nur wie Schleier liegt mein Kummer
Zitternd über mir.
Oft im Traume hör' ich dich
Rufen drauß vor meiner Tür,
Niemand wacht und öffnet dir,
Ich erwach' und weine bitterlich.

Ja, ich werde sterben müssen,
Eine Andre wirst du küssen,
Wenn ich bleich und kalt.
Eh' die Maienlüfte weh'n,
Eh' die Drossel singt im Wald:
Willst du mich noch einmal sehen,
Komm, o komme bald!

Ever more peaceful grows my slumber

Ever more peaceful grows my slumber,
like a thin veil only does my anxiety
lie trembling over me.
Often in my dreams I hear you
calling outside my door,
no one is awake to let you in;
I wake up and weep bitterly.

Yes, I will have to die;
another will you kiss,
when I am pale and cold.
Before the May breezes blow,
before the thrush sings in the forest:
if you wish to see me once more,
come, o come soon!

Von ewiger Liebe, Op. 43, No. 1
[Text: Wenzig]

JOHANNES BRAHMS
Born May 7, 1833 in Hamburg
Died April 3, 1897 in Vienna

Dunkel, wie dunkel in Wald und in Feld!
Abend schon ist es, nun schweiget die Welt.
Nirgend noch Licht und nirgend noch Rauch,
Ja, und die Lerche, sie schweiget nun auch.

Kommt aus dem Dorfe der Bursche heraus,
Gibt das Geleit der Geliebten nach Haus,
Führt sie am Weidengebüsche vorbei,
Redet so viel und so mancherlei:

"Leidest du Schmach und betrübest du dich,
Leidest du Schmach von andern um mich,
Werde die Liebe getrennt so geschwind,
Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind.
Scheide mit Regen und scheide mit Wind,
Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind."

Spricht das Mägdelein, Mägdelein spricht:
"Unsere Liebe, sie trennet sich nicht!
Fest is der Stahl und das Eisen gar sehr,
Unsere Liebe ist fester noch mehr.

Eisen und Stahl, man schmiedet sie um,
Unsere Liebe, wer wandelt sie um?
Eisen und Stahl, sie können zergehn,
Unsere Liebe muß ewig bestehn!"

Of eternal love

Dark, how dark it is in the forest and field!
Night has fallen, the world is now silent.
Nowhere a light and nowhere smoke.
Yes, and the lark is now silent, too.

From the village yonder there comes the young lad,
taking his beloved home.
He leads her past the willow bushes,
talking much, and of many things:

"If you suffer shame and if you grieve,
if you suffer disgrace before others because of me,
then our love shall be ended ever so fast,
as fast as we once came together;
it shall go with the rain and go with the wind,
as fast as we once came together."

Then says the maiden, the maiden says:
"Our love can never end!
Strong is steel and iron,
yet our love is stronger still.

Iron and steel, they can be forged over,
but our love, who can change this?
Iron and steel can disintegrate,
but our love must remain forever!"

Botschaft, Op. 47, No. 1

JOHANNES BRAHMS
Born May 7, 1833 in Hamburg
Died April 3, 1897 in Vienna

[Text: Georg Friedrich Daumer, after Hafiz]
Wehe, Lüftchen, lind und lieblich
Um die Wange der Geliebten,
Spiele zart in ihrer Locke,
Eile nicht hinwegzufliehn!

Tut sie dann vielleicht die Frage,
Wie es um mich Armen stehe;
Sprich: "Unendlich war sein Wehe,
Höchst bedenklich seine Lage;

Aber jetzt kann er hoffen,
Wieder herrlich aufzuleben,
Denn du, Holde,
Denkst an ihn."

Message

Blow, breeze, gentle and loving
about the cheek of my beloved,
play tenderly in her locks,
be not swift to fly away.

If then she should ask
how things are with poor me,
say: "Infinite has been his woe,
most critical his state;

but now he can hope,
gloriously to revive,
for you, sweet one,
are thinking of him."

Le manoir de Rosamonde
[Text: R. de Bonnières]

HENRI DUPARC
Born January 21, 1848 in Paris
Died February 12, 1933 in Mont-de-Marsan

De sa dent soudaine et vorace,
Comme un chien, l'amour m'a mordu.
En suivant mon sang répandu,
Va, tu pourras suivre ma trace.

Prends un cheval de bonne race,
Pars, et suis mon chemin ardu,
Fondrière ou sentier perdu,
Si la course ne te harasse!

En passant par où j'ai passé,
Tu verras que seul et blessé
J'ai parcouru ce triste monde,
Et qu'ainsi je m'en fus mourir
Bien loin, bien loin, sans découvrir
Le bleu manoir de Rosamonde.

The manor of Rosamonde

With its sudden and voracious fang,
Like a dog, love has bitten me.

By following the blood I have shed,
go! You will be able to follow my trail.

Take a thoroughbred horse,
set out, and follow my arduous way,
bog or hidden path,
if the ride does not exhaust you!

In passing where I have passed,
you will see that alone and wonded,
I have ranged this sad world,
and that thus I went to die
far away, far away, without discovering
the blue manor of Rosamund.

Chanson triste
[Text: Jean Lahor]

HENRI DUPARC
Born January 21, 1848 in Paris
Died February 12, 1933 in Mont-de-Marsan

Dans ton coeur dort un clair de lune,
Un doux clair de lune d'été,
Et pour fuir la vie importune
Je me noierai dans ta clarté.

J'oublierai les douleurs passées,
Mon amour, quand tu berceras
Mon triste coeur et mes pensées,
Dans le calme aimant de tes bras.

Tu prendras ma tête malade
Oh! quelquefois sur tes genoux,
Et lui diras une ballade,
Qui semblera parler de nous.

Et dans tes yeux pleins de tristesses,
Dans tes yeux alors je boirai
Tant de baisers et de tendresses
Que, peut-être, je guérirai . . . .

Sorrowful song

In your heart moonlight sleeps,
gentle summer moonlight,
and to escape from the stress of life
I will drown myself in your radiance.

I will forget past sorrows,
my love, when you cradle
my sad heart and my thoughts
in the loving peacefulness of your arms.

You will take my aching head
Oh! sometimes upon your knee,
and will relate a ballad
that seems to speak of ourselves.

And in your eyes full of sorrows,
in your eyes then I will drink
so deeply of kisses and of tenderness
that, perhaps, I shall be healed . . . .


Au pays où se fait la guerre [Text: Théophile Gautier] (1848-1933)

HENRI DUPARC
Born January 21, 1848 in Paris
Died February 12, 1933 in Mont-de-Marsan

Au pays où se fait la guerre
Mon bel ami s'en est allé,
Il semble à mon cœur désolè
Qu'il ne reste que moi sur terre.
En partant au baiser d'adieu,
Il m'a pris mon âme à ma bouche . . .
Qui le tient si longtemps, Mon Dieu?
Voici le soleil qui se couche,

Et moi toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.

Les pigeons sur le toit roucoulent,
Roucoulent amoureusement,
Avec un son triste et charmant;
Les eaux sous les grands saules coulent.
Je me sens tout près de pleurer,
Mon cœur comme un lys plein s'épanche,
Et je n'ose plus espérer,
Voici briller la lune blanche.

Et moi toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.

Quelqu'un monte à grands pas la rampe . . .
Serait-ce lui, mon doux amant?
Ce n'est pas lui, mais seulement
Mon petit page avec ma lampe . . .
Vents du soir, volez, dites-lui
Qu'il est ma pensée et mon rêve
Toute ma joie et mon ennui.
Voici que l'aurore se lève.

Et moi toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.

To the country were war is being waged

To the country were war is being waged
my handsome love has gone away,
it seems to my desolate heart
that no one but me is left on the earth.
On parting, with a kiss of farewell,
he took my soul from my lips . . .
Who keeps him so long, dear God?
now the sun is setting,

and all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.

The doves on the roof coo,
coo amorously,
with a sad and charming sound;
the waters under the big willows flow.
I feel near to tears,
my heart unfolds like a full-blown lily,
and I dare hope no longer,
now the pale moon is shining.

and all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.

Someone is climbing the stairs with big strides . . .
could it be he, my sweet love?
It is not he, but only
my little page with my lamp . . . .
Winds of evening, fly, tell him
that he is my thought and my dream
all my joy and my anxiety.
Now the dawn is rising.

and all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.


Mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix, from Samson et Dalila
[Text: Ferdinand Lemaire]

CAMILLE SAINT-SAËNS
Born October 9, 1835 in Paris
Died December 16, 1921 in Algiers

Dalila:
Mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix,
comme s'ouvrent les fleurs
aux baisers de l'aurore!
Mais, ô mon bien-aimé,
pour mieux sécher mes pleurs,
que ta voix parle encore!
Dis-moi qu'à Dalila
tu reviens pour jamais!
Redis à ma tendresse
les serments d'autrefois,
ces serments que j'aimais!
Ah! réponds à ma tendresse!
Verse-moi l'ivresse!

Ainsi qu'on voit des blés
les épis onduler
Sous la brise légère,
Ainsi frémit mon cœur,
prêt à se consoler,
À ta voix qui m'est chère!
La flèche est moins rapide
à porter le trépas,
Que ne l'est ton amante
à voler dans tes bras!

Ah! réponds à ma tendresse! etc.

Dalila:
My heart opens to your voice
as the flowers open
to the kisses of the dawn!
But, oh my beloved,
to better dry my tears,
let your voice speak again!
Tell me that you are returning
to Delilah forever!
Repeat to my tenderness
the promises of old times,
those promises that I loved!
Ah! respond to my tenderness!
Fill me with ecstasy!

Like one sees the blades
of wheat that bend
in the light wind,
so trembles my heart,
ready to be consoled,
by your voice that is so dear to me!
The arrow is less rapid
in bringing death,
than is your lover
to fly into your arms!

Ah! respond to my tenderness! etc.


Plancha

CARLOS GUASTAVINO
Born April 5, 1912 in Santa Fe, Argentina
[text by Josè Pedroni)

Tenía algo de barca viajero
Y carbonero
Viajaba de la mano de
Un angel timonero.
El mar era una mesa.
La mesa era de pino.
Las olas eran blancas o de un azul marino.

Un humo dulce a veces echaba por
El cielo.
No parecía humo, más bien,
Un pañuelo.
Era cuando esperaba, cuando
Por mar o por rio
Lievaba el sueño a bordo por el pais
Del frio.

Que sola aquella plancha, viajera
Y carbonera,
Que calentó los pies del angel de la espera.
No se cansaba nunca de viajar.
Pero un dia
Perdiose en la neblina. Vimos que
No volvia.

Dejó estampada a fuego
Su sombra protectora.
Está en la mesa grande donde se come
Y llora.

The Iron

It was something like a
Coal-powered freighter.
It voyaged by the hand of
An angel steersman.
The sea was a table.
The table was of pine.
The waves were white, or of aquamarine.

Sometimes a sweet vapor poured out of
The sky.
It didn't seem to be vapor, on the
Sea or a river,
When it took dreams aboard, bound for the land
Of ice.

It was just this iron, coal powered
Freighter,
That warmed the feet of the angel of waiting.
It never grew tired of voyaging.
But one day
It got lost in the fog. We knew that it would
Not return.

It lef, imprinted by fire,
Its protective shadow,
It is on the big table, where we eat
And weep.


Plomada
[Text by José Pedroni]

CARLOS GUASTAVINO
Born April 5, 1912 in Santa Fe, Argentina

Cuelga de un hilo de pescar la pesa
y es un pequeño mundo suspendido.
Un ángel invisible la sostiene.
Señala el centro de la tierra, herido.

Sigue su vertical, hombre constante,
y llegarás a Dios, hombre aflijido.

The Plumb-Bob

The weight hangs from a fishline
and is a little suspended world.
An invisible angel holds it up.
It points to the center of the earth, wounded.

Follow your vertical, faithful man,
and you will come to God, afflicted man.


Seguidilla murciana

MANUEL DE FALLA
Born November 23, 1877 in Cadiz
Died November 14, 1946 in Alta Gracia, Argentina

Cualquiera que el tejado tenga de vídrio,
No debe tirar piedras al del vecino.
Arrieros somos,
Puede que en el camino
Nos encontremos.
Por tu mucha inconstancia
Yo te comparo
Yo te comparo por tu mucha inconstancia
Yo te comparo
Con peseta que corre de mano en mano;
Que al fin se borra
Y creyéndola falsa
Nadie la toma.

Seguidilla of Murcia

Whoever has a glass roof
should not throw stones at his neighbor's.
Mule drivers are we,
perhaps on the road
we shall meet.
Because of your inconstancy
I compare you,
I compare you because of your inconstancy,
I compare you
to a peseta that passes from hand to hand;
that finally becomes so rubbed down,
that believing it false,
no one will take it.

Jota

MANUEL DE FALLA
Born November 23, 1877 in Cadiz
Died November 14, 1946 in Alta Gracia, Argentina

Dicen que no nos queremos
Porque no nos ven hablar;
A tu corazón y al mío
Se lo pueden preguntar.
Ya me despido de tí,
De tu casa y tu ventana
Y aunque no quiera tu madre,
Adiós, niña, hasta mañana.

Jota

They say we don't love each other
because they never see us talking;
but of your heart and mine
they have only to ask.
Now I bid you farewell,
your house and your window too,
even though your mother may not like it,
farewell, little girl, until tomorrow.


Te vas de mí
[Text by Silvia RodríguezVitier]

JOSÉ MARIA VITIER
Born 1954 in Cuba

Hoy no serás tú mi amanecer,
ni abrazaré tu tibia piel.
Te vas de mí.

Vas sin que te pueda ya alcanzar,
Eres la sombra de mi amor perdido.
Vas entre las olas de otro mar.
Inapresable como un sueño que olvidé
al despertar.
Como un color que nunca ví.
Sin rostro vas.
Tan irreal
que ni sabré reconocer
que fuiste tú
quién me enseñó
a amar.

Hoy por nuestras calles andaré
pensando en ti.
A cada paso buscaré
El imposible de tu rostro amado.
Hoy caminaré por la ciudad,
que tantas veces recorrimos juntos
cuando la vida era eterna.

Tanto te amé
que me olvidé
de proteger
mi corazón.
Te vas de mí
Amor

Hoy no serás tú mi amanecer,
ni abrazaré tu tibia piel.
Te vas de mí.
Te vas.

© Ediciones Numadil

You are Leaving Me

Today you will not be my morning,
nor shall I embrace your warm skin.
You are leaving me.

You are leaving, when I have not yet been able to reach you;
you are the shadow of my lost love.
You are sailing on the waves of a different sea,
elusive as a dream that I forgot
when I awoke,
as a color I never saw.
You are leaving without a face,
so unreal
that I should not even recognize
that it was you
who taught me
to love.

Today I shall walk through our streets
thinking of you.
At every step I shall search
for the impossibility of your beloved face.
Today I shall go through the city
that we traversed so many times together
when life was eternal.

I loved you so much
that I forgot
to protect
my heart.
You are leaving me
Love.

Today you will not be my morning
nor shall I embrace your warm skin.
You are leaving me.
You are leaving.

Spanish translations into English are by LUCY E. CROSS
Portuguese translation of the Villa Lobos song by STELA BRANDÃO


His name so sweet

arr. Hall Johnson

Refrain:
Oh Lord I just come from the fountain,
I'm just from the fountain Lord,
I just come from the fountain,
His name so sweet.


Poor sinner, do you love Jesus?
Yes, yes, I do love my Jesus.
Sinner, do you love Jesus?
His name so sweet.

[Refrain]

Class leader do you love Jesus?
Yes, yes, I do love my Jesus.
Leader, do you love Jesus?
His name so sweet.

[Refrain]

Presiding Elder, do you love Jesus?
Elder, do you love Jesus?
Yes, yes I do love my Jesus.
His name so sweet.

[Refrain]

Swing low sweet chariot
Swing low sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home.

I look over Jordan an' what did I see
A band of angels coming after me.

If you get there before I do
Tell all of my friends I'm coming too.


Deep River

Deep River, my home is over Jordan,
Deep River, Lord,
I want to cross over into campground.
Oh don't you want to go
To that gospel feast,
That promised land
Where all is peace.

Every time I feel the spirit

Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart, I will pray.
From the mountain my Lord spoke,
out of his mouth came fire and smoke.
In the valley on my knees,
ask my Lord have mercy, please.
Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart, I will pray.
Jordan River, chilly and cold,
Chill the body but not the soul.
All around me look so shine,
Ask my Lord if all was mine.
Oh, every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart, I will pray.
Ain't but one train on this track,
runs to Heaven and runs right back.
Saint Peter at the gate says,
"Come on, sinner, don't be late"
Oh, every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart, I will pray.

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