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Friday March 26_ 430 pm Kulas Recital Hall Concert No 255 Junior


									                                  Junior Recital
                                  Carianne Bennett, mezzo-soprano
March 26, 4:30 pm
                                  Mary Beth Bulen, soprano
Kulas Recital Hall
Concert No. 255                   Rosy Ge and Ann Schaefer, piano

Chi sa, chi sa qual sia (Da Ponte)                        Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
                               Mary Beth Bulen, soprano
                                 Ann Schaefer, piano

Sonntagslied (Klingemann)                                        Felix Mendelssohn
Herbstlied (Klingemann)                                                (1809–1847)
Bei der Wiege (Klingemann)
Frühlingslied (Lenau)

                               Mary Beth Bulen, soprano
                                 Ann Schaefer, piano

Chanson d‟Amour (Silvestre)                                         Gabriel Faure
Les Matelots (Gautier)                                               (1845–1924)
L‟Aurore (Hugo)
La Fée aux Chansons (Silvestre)

                               Mary Beth Bulen, soprano
                                 Ann Schaefer, piano

Vado, ma dove? (Da Ponte)                                                  Mozart

                           Carianne Bennett, mezzo-soprano
                                   Rosy Ge, piano

Der arme Peter (Heine)                                           Robert Schumann
Der Himmel hat eine Träne geweint (F. Rückert)                       (1810–1856)
Widmung (F. Rückert)

                           Carianne Bennett, mezzo-soprano
                                   Rosy Ge, piano
So-fei Gathering Flowers (Wang Chang-Ling)                            Charles T. Griffes
Landscape (Sada-ihe)                                                      (1884–1920)
The Old Temple Among the Mountains (Chang Wen-Chang)
Tears (Wang Seng-Ju)
A Feast of Lanterns (Yuan Mei)

                          Carianne Bennett, mezzo-soprano
                                  Rosy Ge, piano

Viens, Mallika... Dome Epais Le Jasmin (Gondinet)                            Léo Delibes
     from Lakmé                                                             (1836–1891)

                             Mary Beth Bulen, soprano
                          Carianne Bennett, mezzo-soprano
                                  Rosy Ge, piano

         Please silence all cell phones and refrain from the use of video cameras
            unless prior arrangements have been made with the performers.
                    The use of flash cameras is prohibited. Thank you.

Who knows, who knows what is                                            Mozart
(Da Ponte)
Who knows, who knows
What be the anxiety of my dear one,
Is anger, jealousy, fear and suspicion or love.
You know, o gods,
About my pure affections,
Remove this bitter uncertainty from my heart.
trans. Martha Gerhart

Sunday Song                                                         Mendelssohn
(Karl Klingemann)
All around ring in the forest and corridor,
Many distant ringing bells.
The wind blows secretly and softly,
The little birds sing,
And the organ sound, and the choir singing,
Edifying, pulls the valley along.

How I am so alone in the house,
From afar, silence clear away!
To the party took all off,
Here I can secretly dream.
There they rejoice in desire and joke,
And I become soft and sore around the heart.

Listen, what rings the shawm,
What draws so gladly into the distance?
To the church flutters with bright song,
A blessed bridal party.
And I am so fully alone.
Ah! If one might be with me!

Autumn Song
(Karl Klingemann)
Wilted leaves murmur in the forest,
Song is silent, the green withers,
Fleeing like wind and weather,
Summer and singers move on.
Heart, why are you hesitant? Wherefore do you hesitate so darkly?
Love remains, for you love remains!

The ripened sheaves of corn are cut,
The wind drives across the stubblefield,
A (grim) reaper comes striding forth,
Who stages other, dark harvests.
Heart, why so fretful? Why are you so taken aback?
Hope remains, for you hope remains!

Does the world wish to stand completely alone,
When all draws away and deserts me?
When spring time and love, and youth do flee,
What, then, remains for me? What continues to be solid?
What do you worry, heart? What causes you to worry anew?
Loyalty remains, for you loyalty remains!
trans. Diana Tidman

Beside the Cradle
(Karl Klingemann)
Slumber! Slumber and dream of coming times,
That soon must unfold for you,
Dream, my child, of joy and pain,
Dream of dear shapes!
May yet many come and go,
Yet must new ones arise for you,
Be good and stay patient!

Slumber! Slumber and dream of spring's power,
See all the blooming and becoming,
Listen, how birdsong rings through the grove,
Love in Heaven, on Earth.
Today passes by and does not concern you,
But your spring will also bloom and shimmer,
Be good and stay patient!
trans. Caprice Corona

Spring Song
(Nikolaus Lenau)
Through the forest, the dark one goes
Gentle spring‟s morning hour,
Through the forest from Heaven blows
A soft message of love.
Blissful listens the green tree,
And it dives with all branches
Into the beautiful spring dream,
Into the full life‟s round-dance.

Blooms a little blossom somewhere,
Will it by the clear dew be watered,
The hidden one trembles joyfully,
That Heaven thinks of it.
In secret foliage‟s night
Will the bird‟s heart be hit
By love‟s magic power
And it sings a sweet hope.
Heaven does not proclaim
One word of joyful spring‟s fate
Only its mute, warm glance
Has the blissfulness kindled.
Even in winter‟s grief,
Which the soul held enclosed,
Quietly and warmly your glance
Has penetrated me with spring-like power.
trans. Berton Coffin

Song of Love                                   Faure
(Armand Silvestre)
I love your eyes, I love your forehead,
oh my rebellious and fierce one.
I love your eyes, I love your mouth
on which my kisses will tire themselves out.

I love your voice, I love the strange
gracefulness of everything you say,
oh my rebellious one, my dear angel,
my hell and my paradise!

I love your eyes and your forehead;
I love all that makes you beautiful,
from your feet to your hair,
you to whom my hopeful pleas ascend!
trans. Peter Low

The Sailors
(Théophile Gautier)
Upon the blue, deep water
We shall travel,
Encircling the world
With a silver wake.
From the Sunda Islands,
From India of the burning sky,
As far as the frozen pole!

We think of the land
Which we always flee,
Of our aging mother,
Of our young loves.
But the easy wave
With its sweet refrain,
Lulls our grief to sleep!
Sublime existence,
Rocking in our nest.
We live upon the abyss,
On the breast of the infinite,
Grazing the crests of the waves.
In the great blue desert
We go with God!
trans. Shawn Turis

The Aurora
(Victor Hugo)
Aurora catches fire,
the dense shadows vanish;
the dream and the fumes
go where the night goes;
Eyelids and roses
Open just a bit;
You awaken to things,
You notice sounds.

All is singing and murmur,
All are simultaneously talking,
Smoke and foliage,
Nests and rooftops;
The wind whispers to the oaks,
The water to the fountains;
Gasps for breath
Become voices!

All pluck up some courage,
The baby its rattle,
The hearth its flame,
The lute its bow;
Folly or madness,
In the whole world
Everybody starts with whatever
he wants to give a try.
trans. Linda Godry

The Fairy
(Armand Silvestre)
There once was a fairy
with wild grass in her hair
who ran round the woods
(not letting anyone catch her)
in April, to teach
the birds their songs.

When jays and linnets
sang wrong notes
in their melodies,
the fairy, without fail,
would severely rebuke
these naughty pupils.

Her little bare hand
would pluck in the copses
a blade of thin grass,
and encourage the zeal
of these slow learners
by whipping their wings.

One autumn morning
she came and was shocked
to see the woods deserted;
her disloyal friends
along with the swallows
had taken to the air.

All winter the fairy
with dead grass in her hair,
counting off the minutes
in the vast forests,
keeps composing new songs
for the coming spring!
trans. Peter Low

I go, but to where?                   Mozart
(Da Ponte)
I go, but to where? Oh gods!
For his torment,
for my torment,
does heaven not feel pity?!
You who speak to my heart,
guide my footsteps, oh Cupid;
remove now that obstacle
that makes me doubt.
trans. Bard Suverkrop

Der arme Peter I
Hans and Grete dance around
and cheer with loud joy.
Peter stands so still and mute,
and is as pale as chalk.

Hans and Grete are bride and groom,
flashing in their wedding clothes.
Poor Peter bites his nails
and goes about in workday clothes.

Peter speaks softly to himself,
gazing gloomily at the pair:
Ah, if I weren't so sensible,
I might do myself harm.
trans. Emily Ezust

Der arme Peter II                                       Schumann
"Within my heart there lies an ache
that will break my heart apart;
wherever I stay, wherever I go,
it is always pushing me onward.

"It drives me to my beloved's presence,
as if Grete could heal it;
but when I see my woe in her eyes,
I must hurry away from there.

"I climb to the heights of the mountain,
for there one can be alone;
and when I stay up there silently,
then I stand mutely and weep."
trans. Emily Ezust

Der arme Peter III
Poor Peter staggers past,
quite slowly, as pale as a corpse, and shy.
When they see him,
the people in the street almost stop in their tracks.

Maidens whisper in one another's ears:
"Surely he has risen from the grave!"
But no, dear young girls,
he has not yet climbed into his grave.

He has lost his love;
therefore the grave is the best place for him.
There he might best lie
and sleep until Judgment Day.
trans. Emily Ezust
Der Himmel hat eine Träne geweint
Heaven has shed a tear
that meant to lose itself in the sea;
but the mussel came and locked it in:
you shall now be my pearl.
You should not fear the waves;
I will carry you peacefully through.
O you my pain, you my joy,
you tear of heaven in my bosom!
Heaven grant that with a pure soul
I may guard the purest of your drops.
trans. Emily Ezust

(F. Rückert)
You my soul, you my heart,
you my bliss, o you my pain,
you the world in which I live;
you my heaven, in which I float,
o you my grave, into which
I eternally cast my grief.

You are rest, you are peace,
you are bestowed upon me from heaven.
That you love me makes me worthy of you;
your gaze transfigures me;
you raise me lovingly above myself,
my good spirit, my better self!
trans. Emily Ezust

So-fei Gathering Flowers                                           Griffes
(Wang Chang-Ling)
In a dress of gauzy fabric of the “Lien” leaf‟s em‟rald hue,
So-fei glides amongst the lilies sprinkled with the morning dew.
Rose-hued are the lotus blossoms,
Rose-hued too, the maiden‟s cheeks;
Is it So-fei‟s form I follow,
Or the flowers she seeks?

Now I hear a song arising
From the lotus bowers,
Which distinguishes the maiden
From her sister flowers.
Out across the wave all is bare,
Not a scarlet leaf!
Not a flower there!
Only over thatched huts falling brief, Twilight,
and the lonely autumn air.

The Old Temple Among the Mountains
(Chang Wen-Chang)
The temple courts with grasses rank abound,
And birds throng in the forest trees around!
But pilgrims few, though tablets still remain,
Come to the shrine while revolutions reign.

The mice climb through the curtains full of holes,
And think dust over-spreads the „broidered stoles;

The temple pool in gloomy blackness lies,
To which the sleeping dragon sometimes hies.

(Wang Seng-Ju)
High o‟er the hill the moon-barque steers.
The lantern lights depart.
Dead springs are stirring in my heart;
And there are tears.
But that which makes my grief more deep,
Is that you know not when I weep.

A Feast of Lanterns
(Yuan Mei)
In spring for sheer delight
I set the lanterns swinging through the trees,
Bright as the myriad argosies of night,
That ride the clouded billows of the sky.

Red dragons leap and plunge
in gold and silver seas,
And O! my garden gleaming cold and white,
Thou hast outshone the far faint moon on high,
the far faint moon on high.
“Viens, Mallika... Sous le dôme epais” from Lakme              Delibes
Under a dome of white jasmine
With the roses entwined together
On a river bank covered with flowers laughing in the morning

Gently floating on its charming risings
On the river's current
On the shining waves
One hand reaches
Reaches for the bank
Where the spring sleeps and
The birds, the birds sing.

Under a dome of white jasmine
Ah! calling us

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