Emerging Artists Recital

Texts & Translations

Avant de quitter

Oh sacred medallion, which comes to me from my sister – on the day of the battle, in order to avert death, remain there upon my heart!

Before leaving this place, native soil of my ancestors, to Thee, Lord and King of the Heavens, I entrust my sister. Deign, from all danger, to protect her always – this sister so dear. Deign to protect her from all danger.

Freed from a sad thought, I shall go to seek glory in the midst of the enemies. The best, the bravest in the heat of combat, I shall fight for my country. And if God summons me to Him, I shall watch over you faithfully, oh Marguerite!

Before leaving this place, native soil of my ancestors, to Thee, Lord and King of the Heavens, I entrust my sister. Oh King of Heavens, cast forth Thine eyes – protect Marguerite, King of Heavens!

La Belle Jeunesse

One must love always, and hardly ever marry.
One must make love without priest or notary! Cease, sirs, from being married men; don’t aim but for the cash boxes, don’t aim but for the ornaments, don’t aim but for the hearts.

Whoa! Gentlemen, aim for none other than the hearts. Why marry, then, when the wives of others will themselves never stop praying to become ours. When their passions, when their favors, seek our cash boxes, seek our ornaments, seek our hearts.

One must love always, and hardly ever marry.
One must make love without priest or notary! Cease, sirs, from being married men; don’t aim but for the cash boxes, don’t aim but for the ornaments, don’t aim but for the hearts. Whoa! Gentlemen, aim for none other than the hearts.

Mein Sehnen, mein Wähnen

My yearning, my obsession, in dreams they take me back.
In the dance I had won it, now I’ve lost my happiness. While dancing on the Rhein in the moonlight, she confessed to me with a loving look in her blue eyes, confessed to me with pleading words: O stay, don’t go far away, preserve the memory of your homeland’s peaceful, flourishing happiness.

My yearning, my obsession, in dreams they take me back.
The magic of things far away things brings a burning to my soul, the magic of the dance lured me, and I was then Pierrot, a comedian.
I followed her, my wonderful sweetheart, and learned from tears to kiss. Intoxication and misery, illusion and happiness: Ah, this is the clown’s destiny.
My yearning, my obsession, in dreams they take me back.

Bella figlia dell’amore

Duca: “Beautiful daughter of love, a slave I am to your charms; with a single word you can console my sufferings. Come and feel the quick beating of my heart..”

Maddelena: “Ah! Ha! I laugh heartily, for these are cheap tales. How much your game is worth, believe me, I can appreciate it.

Gilda: “Ah! The villain spoke of love just like that to me!”

Rigoletto: “Be quiet, weeping is to no avail.”

G: “Unhappy heart betrayed, with anguish do not burst. Ah, no!”

M: “I am used to similar joking, handsome sir. I laugh heartily, my handsome sir.”

R: “That he was lying you’re sure. Hush, and my revenge I will take care to hasten. Yes, swift and fatal it will be. I know how I will strike him down. Hush.”

Si, mi chiamano Mimi

Yes.
They call me Mimì, 
but my real name’s Lucia.
My story is brief.
I embroider silk and satin
at home or outside.
I’m tranquil and happy,
and my pastime
is making lilies and roses.
I love all things
that have gentle magic,
that talk of love, of spring,
that talk of dreams and fancies –
the things called poetry…
Do you understand me?

They call me Mimì –
I don’t know why.
I live all by myself
and I eat alone.
I don’t often go to church,
but I like to pray.
I stay all alone
in my tiny white room,
I look at the roofs and the sky.
But when spring comes
the sun’s first rays are mine.
April’s first kiss is mine, is mine!
The sun’s first rays are mine!
A rose blossoms in my vase,
I breathe its perfume, petal by petal.
So sweet is the flower’s perfume.
But the flowers I make, alas,
the flowers I make, alas,
alas, have no scent.
What else can I say?
I’m your neighbour, disturbing you
at this impossible hour.

Jubal

Jubal saw a swan fly
Over the water, high in the sky,
Then he hastily drew his bow.
“Clang”, sounded the string. As a gust
The bird, hit by his arrow,
Fell to die on the waves.
The sun sank in the same moment,
Purple drowned the heaven’s round,
The grove was heard whistling;
And a sweet melodious wind
Softly caressed Jubal’s cheek,
Went to ripple the billow.
The swan sung: “What lovely sound,
Young man, sprang from your weapon,
When you cruelly shot me –?
String to string you shall bind,
Thus playing for all the world,
Praising the Creator’s rule!”
Thus Jubal sang: “O white swan,
Each night I return hither
To sing about your death.
Because you put in my breast
The lovely solace of the string playing,
The song on my tongue.

O soave fanciulla

RODOLFO 
Oh! lovely girl! Oh, sweet face
bathed in the soft moonlight.
I see in you the dream
I’d dream forever!

MIMÌ
(Ah! Love, you rule alone!…)

RODOLFO
Already I taste in spirit
the heights of tenderness!

MIMÌ
(You rule alone, o Love!)

RODOLFO
Already I taste in spirit
the heights of tenderness!
Love trembles in our kiss!

MIMÌ
(How sweet his praises
enter my heart…
Love, you alone rule!)
(Rodolfo kisses her.)
No, please!

RODOLFO
You’re mine!

MIMÌ
Your friends are waiting.

RODOLFO
You send me away already?

MIMÌ
I daren’t say what I’d like…

RODOLFO
Tell me.

MIMÌ
If I came with you?

RODOLFO
What? Mimì!
It would be so fine to stay here.
Outside it’s cold.

MIMÌ
I’d be near you!

RODOLFO
And when we come back?

MIMÌ
Who knows?

RODOLFO
Give me your arm, my dear…

MIMÌ
Your servant, sir…

RODOLFO
Tell me you love me!

MIMÌ
I love you.

RODOLFO and MIMÌ
(as they go out)
Beloved! My love! My love!

Parmi les pleurs

I’m alone in my home, alone with my sorrow! To eternal torment you’ve condemned me, father!Another holds my heart, and yet you gave it away!

And you, to whom I implore in vain in my unhappiness, you who have allowed this disastrous marriage, my God, at least deign to do something to ease my suffering, to drive away the memory that starves me of rest!

Amidst tears, my dream reawakens
It’s to him alone my days belong.
Those sweet regrets, even to think of them is a crime.
I want to flee them, but alas I will think of them always!
From afar, I hear his beloved voice,
yes his own beloved voice
silences the voice of god in me.
And his image, when I pray
at the altar, appears before my eyes.

Весенния воды

The fields are still white with snow,
But already the waters are proclaiming spring
Running along and waking sleepy riverbanks,
Running and glittering and declaring…

They declare in all directions:
“Spring is coming, spring is coming!
We are the heralds of young spring,
She sent us in advance.

Spring is coming, spring is coming!”
And the still, warm days of May
In a rosy, bright circle-dance,
Crowd together and gaily follow behind.

Lensky’s Aria (Куда, куда)

Where, O where have you disappeared 
The golden days of my spring?
What does the coming day have in store for me?
My eyes search for it in vain:
It is hidden in deep darkness!

No need; the law of destiny is just!
Will I fall pierced by an arrow,
Or will it fly by?
All is good; there is an appointed hour
Both for being awake and for falling asleep!
Both the day of cares and the coming darkness
Are equally blessed!

The ray of sunrise will flash
At the break of dawn,
But I, perhaps, will enter
The mysterious chamber of the grave!
And the memory of a young poet
Will be swallowed by the slow Lethe.
The world will forget me; but you, you, Olga…

Tell me, would you come, beautiful maiden,
To shed a tear over my untimely grave
And think: “He loved me!
To me alone he dedicated
The melancholy dawn of his tempestuous life!”
Ah, Olga, I loved you!
To you alone I dedicated the melancholy dawn
Of my tempestuous life!
Ah, Olga, I loved you!

Dear friend, desired friend,
Come come!
Desired friend, come, I am your husband,
Come, I am you husband!
Come, come!
I am waiting for you, desired friend,
Come come, I am your husband!

Where, O where have you disappeared
The golden days of my spring?