Perfect Pairings Paul Appleby, tenor Martin Néron, piano
Saturday, February 10, 2024 at 3:00 p.m. Gill Memorial Chapel Rider University 2083 Lawrenceville Road Lawrenceville, NJ
Embark on a journey through four distinct song cycles, where composers skillfully encapsulate and elevate the essence of their chosen poets. Experience the unique collaborations of Poulenc with Éluard, Schumann with Heine, Britten with Hardy, and Fauré with Verlaine.
Program Tel jour telle nuit 1. Bonne journée 2. Une ruine coquille vide 3. Le front comme un drapeau perdu 4. Une roulotte couverte en tuiles 5. À toutes brides 6. Une herbe pauvre 7. Je n’ai envie que de t’aimer 8. Figure de force brûlante et farouche 9. Nous avons fait la nuit Liederkreis, Op. 24 1. Morgens steh’ ich auf und frage 2. Es treibt mich hin, es treibt mich her 3. Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen 4. Lieb’ Liebchen, leg’s Händchen aufs Herze mein 5. Schöne Wiege meiner Leiden 6. Warte, warte, wilder Schiffsmann
Francis Poulenc / Paul Éluard
Robert Schumann / Heinrich Heine
7. Berg’ und Burgen schaun herunter 8. Anfangs wollt’ ich fast verzagen 9. Mit Rosen, Zypressen und Flittergold
Intermission Winter Words Op.52 Benjamin Britten / Thomas Hardy 1. At day-close in November 2. Midnight on the Great Western - 'The journeying boy' 3. Wagtail and baby - 'A satire' 4. The little old table 5. The choirmaster's burial - 'The tenor man's story' 6. Proud Songsters - 'Thrushes, finches and nightingales' 7. At the railway station, Upway - 'The convict and the boy with the violin' 8. Before life and after La bonne chanson 1. Une sainte en son auréole 2. Puisque l'aube grandit 3. La lune blanche luit dans les bois 4. J'allais par des chemins perfides 5. J'ai presque peur, en vérité 6. Avant que tu ne t'en ailles 7. Donc, ce sera par un clair jour d'été 8. N'est-ce pas? 9. L'hiver a cessé
Gabriel Fauré / Paul Verlaine
Program Notes, Texts and Translations Tel jour telle nuit Paul Éluard “The voice of Paul Éluard was merged with his poetry. Poetry spoke in him, through him. Too many times have I heard him recite his poems not to be able, twenty-six years after his death, to read them without hearing himself. The quavering of his voice, I do not forget it. I have oftentimes asked myself about that quavering, noticeable in the gestures and tone of the poems. I believe it manifested a concern not to do violence, nor to break, nor to force. I discover in it the proof of a great respect, a boundless tenderness. Éluard talks about beings and things in the same way a teenager rests for the first time his hand, his lips, on the flesh of the first love.” Max Pol Fouchet about Paul Éluard Éluard became, with Breton and Aragon, a pioneer of surrealism and explored the new possibilities arising out of the subconscious. However, he quickly became the black sheep of the movement, unable to limit his poetry to a system or an ideology; his poetry is alive, and appeals to the senses before the intellect. Furthermore, he never complied with the deeply prejudiced tenets and the blatant intolerance of the surrealists, and was eventually thrown out of the movement by Breton. Tel jour telle nuit
Tel jour telle nuit is the first set of songs Poulenc clearly conceived as a cycle. Each of its nine songs plays a deliberate and noninterchangeable role in relation to the others: the unfolding of the different poems exemplifies a succession of color and mood that suits the character of each song as called for by the overall organization of the cycle. Éluard’s poetic images are primarily inspired by Nusch, with whom he shared his life between 1929 and 1946, the year of her untimely death. She became his muse, and her essence would live in the heart of his poetry. Through her own vision, which embodied the living forces that brought the poet’s existence to life, she allowed Éluard to connect to her love and consequently to the universe. 1. Bonne journée A good day! I saw again whom I do not forget Whom I shall never forget And fleeting women whose eyes Outlined a hedge of honor for me Their smiles enveloped them. A good day! I saw my friends without any worry The men did not weight much One who passed by, His shadow transformed into a mouse, Slipped away in the gutter. I saw the very wide sky The beautiful gaze of those shorn of everything Distant shore where no one ever lands. A good day! Day which began gloomy Dark under the green trees But which suddenly immersed in the light of dawn Broke into my heart by surprise. 2. Une ruine coquille vide A ruin, empty shell Weeps into its base The children who play around it Make less noise than flies. The ruin gropes its way out To look for its cows in a meadow. I have seen the day, I see that Without being ashamed. It is midnight, like an arrow In a heart within reach Of the blithe nocturnal glimmers Which contradict sleep. 3. Le front comme un drapeau perdu The brow like a lost flag I lug you when I am by myself Along cold streets Dark rooms Screaming of distress. I do not want to release them
Your clear and intricate hands Born in the enclosed mirror of my own. All the rest is perfect All the rest is even more unavailing Than life. Dig in the ground beneath your shadow. A sheet of water near the breasts Wherein to drown oneself Like a stone. 4. Une roulotte couverte en tuiles A trailer roofed with tiles The horse dead, a child in control Thinking, the brow towering of rage Of two breasts pouncing on him Like two fists. This melodrama pulls The reason from our hearts. 5. À toutes brides At full tilt you, whose phantom Prances at night on a violin, Come rule over the woods. The pillars of the hurricane Seek their way through you. You are not one of those Whose desires one fancies. Come drink a kiss over here; Give in to the fire which drives you to despair. 6. Une herbe pauvre One frail grass Wild Sprung up amid the snow It was health. My mouth was exhilarated From the taste of fresh air it had. It was withered. 7. Je n’ai envie que de t’aimer I only long to love you; A storm fills the valley, A fish the river; I have conceived you tailored to my solitude, The whole world to hide; Days and nights to understand one another, To no longer see anything in your eyes But what I think of you, And of a world at your own image,
And of days and nights, set by your eyelids. 8. Figure de force brûlante et farouche Countenance of fervid and fierce might Black hair wherein gold trickles toward the south And its corrupted nights; Engulfed gold, impure star, In a bed never shared. To the veins of the temples As to the tips of the breasts, Life denies itself. The eyes, no one can blind them, Drink neither their sparkle nor their tears; Blood above them triumphs for itself alone. Uncompromising, unbounded, Unavailing This health builds a prison. 9. Nous avons fait la nuit We have made the night I hold your hand, I lie awake I support you with all my strength, I engrave on a rock the star of your strengths. Deep furrows where the kindness of your body will blossom, I repeat to myself your concealed voice, your public voice; I still laugh at the haughty woman Whom you treat like a beggar, At the fools you respect, at the petty people with whom you immerse yourself. And in my head which gently reposes in harmony with yours, with the night I marvel at the stranger you become, An unknown woman resembling you, resembling everything that I love, Which is forever new Liederkreis, Op. 24 At the tender age of seventeen, Schumann had the privilege of meeting Heinrich Heine, a poet he held in high regard. In Schumann's own vivid account, he recalls the encounter: "He received me amicably, as would a humane, Grecian Anacreon; he cordially pressed my hand and escorted me around Munich for several hours; -all this I could not have imagined of a man such as travelers' tales depict him; only about his mouth there played a bitter, ironical smile, but a lofty smile at the trivialities of life, scornful of trivial mankind. Yet even that bitter satire …, that profound, inveterate resentment against life that penetrates the very marrow, renders his conversation very attractive.” Fast forward twelve years, and Schumann found inspiration in Heine for two of his most renowned song cycles: the Liederkreis, Op. 24, and Dichterliebe, Op. 48. Heine's Buch der Lieder, oscillating between extremes of bliss and despair, intertwined with sentimentality, self-pity, and ironic self-mockery, struck a deep chord with Schumann's sensitive nature. The Liederkreis, comprising nine songs, unfolds poignant narratives of hapless love, seamlessly weaving between moments of tenderness and anguish.
Translation by Richard Wigmore I. Morgens steh' ich auf und frage: Kommt feins Liebchen heut? Abends sink' ich hin und klage: Aus blieb sie auch heut. In der Nacht mit meinem Kummer Lieg' ich schlaflos, wach; Träumend, wie im halben Schlummer, Träumend wandle ich bei Tag.
1. Each morning I get up and ask: Will my sweetheart come today? At evening I sink down and lament: Today, too, she stayed away. At night, with my grief, I lie sleepless, awake; in the daytime I wander Dreaming, as if half-asleep.
II. Es treibt mich hin, es treibt mich her! Noch wenige Stunden, dann soll ich sie schauen, Sie selber, die schönste der schönen Jungfrauen; Du armes Herz, was pochst du so schwer! Die Stunden sind aber ein faules Volk! Schleppen sich behaglich träge, Schleichen gähnend ihre Wege; Tummle dich, du faules Volk! Tobende Eile mich treibend erfasst! Aber wohl niemals liebten die Horen; Heimlich im grausamen Bunde verschworen, Spotten sie tückisch der Liebenden Hast.
II. I am driven to and fro! A few more hours and I shall see her, her, the fairest of the maidens. Poor heart, how hard you beat! But the hours are a lazy lot! They shuffle lethargically, as they please, and, yawning, crawl on their way. Look sharp, you lazy lot! Raging impatience grips me, urging me on. But the hours can never have loved. Secretly sworn to a cruel alliance they spitefully mock lovers’ haste.
III. Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen Mit meinem Gram allein; Da kam das alte Träumen Und schlich mir ins Herz hinein. Wer hat euch dies Wörtlein gelehret, Ihr Vöglein in luftiger Höh'? Schweigt still! wenn mein Herz es höret, Dann tut es noch einmal so weh. „Es kam ein Jungfräulein gegangen, Die sang es immerfort, Da haben wir Vöglein gefangen Das hübsche, goldne Wort." Das sollt ihr mir nicht mehr erzählen, Ihr Vöglein wunderschlau; Ihr wollt meinem Kummer mir stehlen, Ich aber niemandem trau'.
III. I wandered beneath the trees alone with my grief. Then dreams of old came and stole into my heart. Who taught you that word, birds in the airy heights? Hush! When my heart hears it once more it aches. “A maiden came walking, who sang it all the time. Then we birds took up that lovely, golden word.” You should not tell me this, birds of wondrous cunning. You should steal my grief from me, but I trust no one with it.
IV. Lieb' Liebchen, leg's Händchen aufs Herze mein; Ach, hörst du, wie's pochet
IV. Dearest sweetheart, lay your hand upon my heart. can you hear how it pounds
im Kämmerlein? Da hauset ein Zimmermann schlimm und arg, Der zimmert mir einen Totensarg. Es hämmert und klopfet bei Tag und bei Nacht; Es hat mich schon längst um den Schlaf gebracht. Ach! sputet euch, Meister Zimmermann, Damit ich balde schlafen kann.
in its room? A carpenter lodges there, vile and wicked, building me a coffin. The hammering and banging, day and night, has long robbed me of sleep. Hurry, master carpenter, that I soon may sleep.
V. Schöne Wiege meiner Leiden, Schönes Grabmal meiner Ruh', Schöne Stadt, wir müssen scheiden, Lebe wohl! ruf' ich dir zu. Lebe wohl, du heil'ge Schwelle, Wo da wandelt Liebchen traut; Lebe wohl! du heil'ge Stelle, Wo ich sie zuerst geschaut. Hätt' ich dich doch nie geseh’n, Schöne Herzenskönigin! Nimmer wär' es dann geschehen, Daß ich jetzt so elend bin. Nie wollt' ich dein Herze rühren, Liebe hab' ich nie erfleht; Nur ein stilles Leben führen Wollt' ich, wo dein Odem weht. Doch du drängst mich selbst von hinnen, Bittre Worte spricht dein Mund; Wahnsinn wühlt in meinen Sinnen, Und mein Herz ist krank und wund. Und die Glieder matt und träge Schlepp' ich fort am Wanderstab, Bis mein müdes Haupt ich lege Ferne in ein kühles Grab.
V. Fair cradle of my sorrows, fair tombstone of my peace, fair town, we must part. Farewell, I cry to you. Farewell, sacred threshold where my dearest love walks. Farewell, sacred spot where I first saw her. Would that I had never seen you, fair queen of my heart. Then it would never have happened that I am now so wretched. I never wished to touch your heart, I have never begged for love. All I wished was to lead a tranquil life where you breathed. But you yourself are driving me away. Your lips speak bitter words. Madness gnaws at my senses, and my heart is sick and wounded. And with weary, listless limbs I will trudge away on my stick, till I lay down my tired head in a cool, distant grave.
VI. Warte, warte, wilder Schiffsmann, Gleich folg' ich zum Hafen dir; Von zwei Jungfrauen nehm' ich Abschied, Von Europa und von Ihr. Blutquell, rinn' aus meinen Augen, Blutquell, brich aus meinem Leib, Daß ich mit dem heißen Blute Meine Schmerzen niederschreib'. Ei, mein Lieb, warum just heute Schauderst du, mein Blut zu sehn? Sahst mich bleich und herzeblutend
VI. Wait, wait, rough sailor, I’ll follow you now to the port. I am taking my leave of two maidens, of Europe and of Her. Stream of blood, flow from my eyes, stream of blood, gush from my body That with the hot blood I may write down my sorrows. My love, why just today do you recoil at the sight of my blood? For long years you have seen me before you,
Lange Jahre vor dir steh’n! Kennst du noch das alte Liedchen Von der Schlang' im Paradies, Die durch schlimme Apfelgabe Unsern Ahn ins Elend stieß. Alles Unheil brachten Äpfel! Eva bracht' damit den Tod, Eris brachte Trojas Flammen, Du brachst'st beides, Flamm' und Tod.
pale and with bleeding heart. Do you remember the old tale Of the serpent in Paradise, which through the wicked gift of an apple cast our forebears into misery? Apples have brought all our misfortunes. With them Eve brought death, and Eris the flames of Troy. You have brought both— flames and death.
VII. Berg' und Burgen schaun herunter In den spiegelhellen Rhein, Und mein Schiffchen segelt munter, Rings umglänzt von Sonnenschein. Ruhig seh' ich zu dem Spiele Goldner Wellen, kraus bewegt; Still erwachen die Gefühle, Die ich tief im Busen hegt'. Freundlich grüssend und verheißend Lockt hinab des Stromes Pracht; Doch ich kenn' ihn, oben gleißend, Birgt sein Innres Tod und Nacht. Oben Lust, im Busen Tücken, Strom, du bist der Liebsten Bild! Die kann auch so freundlich nicken, Lächelt auch so fromm und mild.
VII. Mountains and castles gaze down into the clear, mirroring Rhine. And my little boat sails blithely along, surrounded by glistening sunlight. Calmly I watch the play of the golden, rippling waves. Softly those feelings awaken which I cherished deep in my heart. Sweetly greeting, promising, the river’s splendor lures me down; But I know it— sparkling on the surface, it hides night and death in its depths. Joy above, malice in its heart: river, you are the image of my love. She can nod just as sweetly, smile just as gently and innocently.
VIII. Anfangs wollt' ich fast verzagen, Und ich glaubt', ich trüg' es nie; Und ich hab' es doch getragen Aber fragt mich nur nicht, wie?
VIII. At first I almost despaired, thinking I could never bear it. Yet borne it I have, but do not ask me how.
IX. Mit Myrten und Rosen, lieblich und hold, Mit duft'gen Zypressen und Flittergold, Möcht' ich zieren dieß Buch wie 'nen Totenschrein, Und sargen meine Lieder hinein. O könnt' ich die Liebe sargen hinzu! Auf dem Grabe der Liebe wächst Blümlein der Ruh', Da blüht es hervor, da pflückt man es ab, -
IX. With myrtles and roses, charming and dear, with fragrant cypresses and gold tinsel I would decorate this book like a coffin. And bury my songs within it. Oh, could I but bury my love there too! On love’s grave grows the flower of peace; there it blossoms, there it is picked.
Doch mir blüht's nur, wenn ich selber im Grab. Hier sind nun die Lieder, die einst so wild, Wie ein Lavastrom, der dem Ätna entquillt, Hervorgestürtzt aus dem tiefsten Gemüt, Und rings viel blitzende Funken versprüht! Nun liegen sie stumm und totengleich, Nun starren sie kalt und nebelbleich, Doch aufs neu die alte Glut sie belebt, Wenn der Liebe Geist einst über sie schwebt. Und es wird mir im Herzen viel Ahnung laut: Der Liebe Geist einst über sie taut; Einst kommt dies Buch in deine Hand, Du süßes Lieb im fernen Land. Dann löst sich des Liedes Zauberbann, Die blaßen Buchstaben schaun dich an, Sie schauen dir flehend ins schöne Aug', Und flüstern mit Wehmut und Liebeshauch.
For me it will bloom only when I am in my grave. Here, then, are songs which once, wild as a stream of lava gushing from Etna, burst from the depths of my soul, showering many flashing sparks around. Now they lie mute, as if dead, rigid, cold, pale as mist; but the old fire will revive them afresh if ever love’s spirit should hover over them. Many an intimation stirs within my heart: the spirit of love will one day dawn above them, and one day this book will come into your hands, my sweet love, in a far-off land. The magic spell on my songs shall be broken; the pale letters shall gaze at you, gaze beseechingly into your lovely eyes, and whisper with the melancholy breath of love.
Winter Words Op.52 In crafting this cycle, Britten carefully selected poems from various collections by Hardy, with the exception of the sixth song, "Proud Songsters," which is drawn from Hardy’s Winter Words. The structural finesse of the cycle is notable, as it commences and concludes in the key of D. Britten skillfully employs the piano to bring out distinctive elements within each poem. The first song vividly evokes the autumn wind, while the second captures the distant yet fleeting sound of a train's whistle. In the postlude of the third song, Britten skillfully portrays the confusion of a baby attempting to express unspoken thoughts. The fifth song introduces a pompous vicar, the sixth features hyperactive birds, and the seventh showcases a captivating violin improvisation. Beyond the poems themselves, Britten adds layers to the songs, enhancing the musical experience. Hardy, facing the end of his life, viewed the world through a lens of regret and resignation. In contrast, Britten, tackling these poems at a younger age, injects a more positive perspective. He fosters a sense of acceptance and acknowledges that changes and renewal are not indicative of failure but rather benevolent aspects of life.
At day-close in November The ten hours’ light is abating, And a late bird wings across, Where the pines, like waltzers waiting, Give their black heads a toss. Beech leaves, that yellow the noontime, Float past like specks in the eye; I set every tree in my June time, And now they obscure the sky. And the children who ramble through here Conceive that there never has been A time when no tall trees grew here, That none will in time be seen. Midnight on the Great Western - 'The journeying boy' In the third-class seat sat The journeying boy. And the roof-lamp’s oily flame Played down on his listless form and face, Bewrapt past knowing to what he was going, Or whence he came. In the band of his hat the journeying boy Had a ticket stuck; and a string Around his neck bore the key of his box, That twinkled gleams of the Lamp’s sad beams Like a living thing. What past can be yours, O journeying boy, Towards a world unknown, Who calmly, as if incurious quite On all at stake, can undertake This plunge alone? Knows your soul a sphere, O journeying boy, Our rude realms far above, Whence with spacious vision You mark and mete This region of sin that you find you in, But are not of? Wagtail and baby - 'A satire' A baby watched a ford, whereto A wagtail came for drinking; A blaring bull went wading through, The wagtail showed no shrinking.
A stallion splashed his way across, The birdie nearly sinking; He gave his plumes a twitch and toss, And held his own unblinking. Next saw the baby round the spot A mongrel slowly slinking; The wagtail gazed, but faltered not In dip and sip and prinking A perfect gentleman then neared; The wagtail, in a winking, With terror rose and disappeared; The baby fell a-thinking. The little old table Creak, little wood thing, creak, When I touch you with elbow or knee; That is the way you speak Of the one who gave you to me! You, little table, she brought— brought me with her own hand, As she looked at me with a thought: That I did not understand. —Whoever owns it anon, And hears it, will never know What a history hangs upon This creak from long ago. The choirmaster's burial - 'The tenor man's story' He often would ask us That, when he died, After playing so many To their last rest, If out of us any Should here abide, And it would not task us, We would with our lutes Play over him By his grave-brim The psalm he liked best— The one whose sense suits “Mount Ephraim” And perhaps we should seem To him, in death’s dream, Like the seraphim.
As soon as I knew That his spirit was gone I thought this his due, And spoke thereupon. “I think” said the vicar, “A read service quicker That viols out-of-doors In these frosts and hoars. That old-fashioned was Requires a fine day, And it seems to me It had better not be.” Hence, that afternoon, Though never knew he That his wish could not be, To get through it faster They buried the master Without any tune. But t’was said that, when At the dead of next night The vicar looked out, There struck on his ken Thronged roundabout, Where the frost was graying The headstoned grass, A band all in white Like the saints in church-glass, Singing and playing The ancient stave By the choirmaster’s grave. Such the tenor man told When he had grown old. Proud Songsters - 'Thrushes, finches and nightingales' The thrushes sing as the sun is going, And the finches whistle in ones and pairs, And as it gets dark loud nightingales In bushes Pipe, as they can when April wears, As if all Time were theirs. These are brand-new birds of twelve months’ growing, Which a year ago, or less than twain, No finches were, nor nightingales, Nor thrushes, But only particles of grain,
And earth, and air, and rain. At the railway station, Upway - 'The convict and the boy with the violin' 'There is not much that I can do, For I’ve no money that’s quite my own!' Spoke up the pitying child— A little boy with a violin At the station before the train came in— 'But I can play my fiddle to you, And a nice one ‘tis, and good in tone!' The man in the handcuffs smiled; The constable looked, and he smiled, too, As the fiddle began to twang; And the man in the handcuffs Suddenly sang With grimful glee: 'This life so free Is the thing for me!' And the constable smiled, and said no word, As if unconscious of what he heard; And so they went on till the train came in— The convict, and boy with the violin. Before life and after A time there was—as one may guess And as, indeed, earth’s testimonies tell— before the birth of consciousness, When all went well. None suffered sickness, love, or loss, None knew regret, starved hope, or heart-burnings; None cared whatever crash or cross Brought wrack to things. If something ceased, no tongue bewailed, If something winced and waned, no heart was wrung; If brightness dimmed, and dark prevailed. No sense was stung. But the disease of feeling germed, And primal rightness took the tinct of wrong: Ere nescience shall be reaffirmed How long, how long?
La bonne chanson In 1892, Gabriel Fauré, buoyed by the success of his mélodies de Venise but disheartened by the failure of his courtship to Princesse Winnaretta, crossed paths with Emma Bardac. Inspired by Bardac, Fauré embarked on his second song cycle, La bonne chanson, and delved into the poetry of Albert Samain, resulting in the creation of two gems, Soir and Arpège, along with the duet Pleurs d’or.
La bonne chanson stands as Fauré’s most intricate cycle, presenting exceptional challenges for both the singer and pianist. It represents the pinnacle of Fauré's adventurous and innovative mélodies, marked by unprecedented use of chromaticism and a deliberate blurring of key signatures. Despite Fauré's artistic boldness, the reception to La bonne chanson was frosty, with prominent figures like Saint-Saëns and Debussy openly expressing their dislike for the work. On the other hand, Paul Verlaine, the poet behind the texts of La bonne chanson, found himself at a crossroads in life. With his impending marriage to Mathilde, Verlaine aspired to integrate into mainstream Parisian society. Despite being known for his conflicted and intricate persona, intertwined with his identity as a poète maudit and anarchist, Verlaine’s collection La bonne chanson represents a shift away from his earlier experimental endeavors, such as Fêtes galantes. Unlike his previous works, La bonne chanson embraces traditional poetic forms, indicating Verlaine's brief flirtation with conformity during this period of his life.
© translated by Christopher Goldsack Une Sainte en son auréole... Une Sainte en son auréole, Une Châtelaine en sa tour, Tout ce qui contient la parole Humaine de grâce et d'amour;
A saint in her halo... A saint in her halo, a chatelaine in her tower, all that the human word contains of grace and of love;
La note d'or que fait entendre Le cor dans le lointain des bois, Mariée à la fierté tendre Des nobles Dames d'autrefois;
the note of gold which the horn sounds in the distance of the woods, married to the tender pride of the noble Ladies of long ago;
Avec cela le charme insigne D'un frais sourire triomphant Éclos dans des candeurs de cygne Et des rougeurs de femme-enfant;
with that, the hardly discernible charm of a fresh exultant smile which has blossomed in swan-like purities and in the blushes of woman-child.
Des aspects nacrés, blancs et roses, Un doux accord patricien: Je vois, j'entends toutes ces choses Dans son nom Carlovingien.
Pearly appearances, white and pink, a gentle patrician chord: I see, I hear all these things in her Carlovingian name.
Puisque l'aube grandit... Puisque l'aube grandit, puisque voici l'aurore, Puisqu'après m'avoir fui longtemps, l'espoir veut
Since dawn is rising... Since dawn is rising, since here is the day-break, since, after having fled from me for a long time,
bien Revoler devers moi qui l'appelle et l'implore, Puisque tout ce bonheur veut bien être le mien, Je veux, guidé par vous, beaux yeux aux flammes douces, Par toi conduit, ô main où tremblera ma main, Marcher droit, que ce soit par des sentiers de mousses Ou que rocs et cailloux encombrent le chemin; Et comme, pour bercer les lenteurs de la route, Je chanterai des airs ingénus, je me dis Qu'elle m'écoutera sans déplaisir sans doute; Et vraiment je ne veux pas d'autre Paradis.
hope is ready to fly back towards me who calls and implores it, since all this good-fortune is ready to be mine, I want, guided by you, beautiful softly flaming eyes, led by you, o hand where my hand will tremble, to walk straight ahead, whether it be on mossy paths or whether rocks and pebbles hamper the way; and as if to cradle the slownesses of the journey, I will sing simple songs, I tell myself that she will no doubt listen to me without displeasure; and truly I want no other Paradise.
La lune blanche... La lune blanche Luit dans les bois; De chaque branche Part une voix Sous la ramée...
The white moon... The white moon shines in the woods; from each branch comes a voice beneath the boughs...
O bien aimée.
O well-beloved.
L'étang reflète, Profond miroir, La silhouette Du saule noir Où le vent pleure.
The pond reflects, deep mirror, the silhouette of the black willow where the wind weeps.
Rêvons, c'est l'heure.
Let us dream, it is the hour.
Un vaste et tendre Apaisement Semble descendre Du firmament Que l'astre irise...
A vast and tender quietening seems to settle from the sky that the moon makes iridescent...
C'est l'heure exquise
It is the exquisite hour.
J'allais par des chemins perfides... J'allais par des chemins perfides, Douloureusement incertain. Vos chères mains furent mes guides.
I went by treacherous paths... I went by treacherous paths, painfully uncertain. Your dear hands were my guides.
Si pâle à l'horizon lointain
So pale on the distant horizon
Luisait un faible espoir d'aurore; Votre regard fut le matin.
shone a weak hope of dawn; your gaze was the morning.
Nul bruit, sinon son pas sonore, N'encourageait le voyageur. Votre voix me dit: <Marche encore!>
No sound, other than his sonorous footstep, encouraged the traveler. Your voice told me: "Walk on!"
Mon cœur craintif, mon sombre cœur Pleurait, seul, sur la triste voie; L'amour, délicieux vainqueur,
My fearful heart, my heavy heart wept, alone, on the sad road; love, delectable victor,
Nous a réunis dans la joie.
has reunited us in joy.
J'ai presque peur, en vérité... J'ai presque peur, en vérité, Tant je sens ma vie enlacée À la radieuse pensée Qui m'a pris l'âme l'autre été,
I am almost afraid, in truth... I am almost afraid, in truth, so much do I feel my life entwined with the radiant thought which took my soul from me last summer,
Tant votre image, à jamais chère, Habite en ce cœur tout à vous, Ce cœur uniquement jaloux De vous aimer et de vous plaire;
so much does your image, forever dear, live in this heart, entirely given to you, this heart uniquely anxious to love you and to please you;
Et je tremble, pardonnez-moi D'aussi franchement vous le dire, À penser qu'un mot, qu'un sourire De vous est désormais ma loi,
and I tremble _ forgive me for telling you this so frankly _ to think that just one word, one smile from you is henceforth my law,
Et qu'il vous suffirait d'un geste, D'une parole ou d'un clin d'œil, Pour mettre tout mon être en deuil De son illusion céleste.
and that just one gesture, one word or one wink, would be enough for you to put my whole being in mourning for its celestial illusion.
Mais plutôt je ne veux vous voir, L'avenir dût-il m'être sombre Et fécond en peines sans nombre, Qu'à travers un immense espoir,
But rather, I only want to see you, even though the future were to be dark for me and prolific in countless sufferings, through a vast hope.
Plongé dans ce bonheur suprême De me dire encore et toujours, En dépit des mornes retours, Que je vous aime, que je t'aime!
Immersed in this supreme happiness of telling myself again and forever, despite dismal returns, that I love you, that I love thee!
Avant que tu ne t'en ailles... Avant que tu ne t'en ailles, Pâle étoile du matin; _Mille cailles Chantent dans le thym!_
Before you go away... Before you go away, pale morning star; _a thousand quails are singing in the thyme!_
Tourne devers le poète, Dont les yeux sont pleins d'amour, _L'allouette Monte au ciel avec le jour!_
turn towards the poet, whose eyes are full of love, _the lark climbs in the sky with the day-break!_
Tourne ton regard que noie L'aurore dans son azur; _Quelle joie Parmi les champs de blé mûr!_
turn your gaze which the dawn drowns in its azure; _what joy among the fields of ripe corn!_
Et fais luire ma pensée Là-bas, bien loin, oh! bien loin! _La rosée Gaîment brille sur le foin!_
and make my thought sparkle over there, far away, oh, far away, _the dew gleams merrily on the hay!_
Dans le doux rêve où s'agite Ma mie endormie encor... _Vite, vite, Car voici le soleil d'or!_
in the gentle dream where my love, still asleep, is stirring... _Quickly, quickly, for here is the golden sun!_
Donc, ce sera par un clair jour d'été Donc, ce sera par un clair jour d'été: Le grand soleil, complice de ma joie, Fera, parmi le satin et la soie, Plus belle encor votre chère beauté;
Then, it will be by a fine summer's day So, it will be on a bright summer's day: the great sun, accomplice to my joy, will make, amid the satin and the silk, your dear beauty even lovelier;
Le ciel tout bleu, comme une haute tente, Frissonnera somptueux à longs plis Sur nos deux fronts heureux qu'auront pâlis L'émotion du bonheur et l'attente;
The sky, all blue like a high canopy, will shiver, sumptuous, in long folds, above our two happy brows that the emotion of well-being and the expectation will have paled;
Et quand le soir viendra, l'air sera doux Qui se jouera, caressant dans vos voiles, Et les regards paisibles des étoiles Bienveillamment souriront aux époux.
and when the evening has come, the air will be gentle which teases, stroking through your veils, and the peaceful gaze of the stars will smile protectively on the married couple.
N'est-ce pas?... N'est-ce pas? nous irons, gais et lents, dans la voie Modeste que nous montre en souriant l'Espoir, Peu soucieux qu'on nous ignore ou qu'on nous voie.
Is it not so?... Is it not so? We shall go, happy, slow, on the humble path that Hope shows us with a smile, little caring whether we are seen or not.
Isolés dans l'amour ainsi qu'en un bois noir, Nos deux cœurs, exhalant leur tendresse paisible, Seront deux rossignols qui chantent dans le soir.
Isolated in love as though in a dark wood, our two hearts, exhaling their peaceful tenderness, will be two nightingales which sing in the evening.
Sans nous préoccuper de ce que nous destine
Le Sort, nous marcherons pourtant du même pas, Et la main dans la main, avec l'âme enfantine De ceux qui s'aiment sans mélange, n'est-ce pas?
Without concerning ourselves with what Fate holds for us, we shall walk nevertheless in step, and hand in hand, with the child-like soul of those who love each other without complication, is it not so?
L'hiver a cessé... L'hiver a cessé: la lumière est tiède Et danse, du sol au firmament clair. Il faut que le cœur le plus triste cède À l'immense joie éparse dans l'air.
Winter has ended... Winter has ended: the light is tepid and dances, from the ground to the clear sky. Even the saddest heart must yield to the immense joy dispersed in the air.
J'ai depuis un an le printemps dans l'âme Et le vert retour du doux floréal, Ainsi qu'une flamme entoure une flamme, Met de l'idéal sur mon idéal.
For one year now I have had Spring in my soul and the green return of the gentle month of May, just as one flame engulfs another flame, places some perfection on my perfection.
Le ciel bleu prolonge, exhausse et couronne L'immuable azur où rit mon amour. La saison est belle et ma part est bonne Et tous mes espoirs ont enfin leur tour.
The blue sky extends, rises and crowns the unchanging azure where my love laughs. The season is beautiful and my lot is good and all my hopes have at last reached their turn.
Que vienne l'été! que viennent encore L'automne et l'hiver! Et chaque saison Me sera charmante, ô Toi que décore Cette fantaisie et cette raison!
Let Summer come! Let Autumn and Winter come again! And I shall find each season charming, o You who is crowned by this dream and this reason!
About the Artists PAUL APPLEBY Admired for his interpretive depth, vocal strength, and range of expressivity, tenor Paul Appleby is one of the most sought-after voices of his generation. He graces the stages of the world’s most distinguished concert halls and opera houses and collaborates with leading orchestras, instrumentalists, and conductors. Opera News writes, “[Paul’s] tenor is limpid and focused, but with a range of color unusual in an instrument so essentially lyric… His singing is scrupulous and musical; the voice moves fluidly and accurately.”
Paul Appleby’s calendar of the 2023-24 season includes a debut at La Monnaie in the world premiere of Cassandra, written by Bernard Foccroulle and Matthew Jocelyn under the baton of Kazushi Ono, a debut at the Gran Teatre del Liceu in the principal role of Caesar in the European premiere of John Adams’ Antony and Cleopatra, and a return engagement with Glyndebourne to sing Tamino in Die Zauberflöte. Igor Stravinsky features prominently in the American tenor’s concert diary with a San Francisco Symphony debut with Music Director Esa-Pekka Salonen in performances of Les Noces, Pulcinella with Music Director Gustavo Gimeno and the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, and the title role ofŒdipus Rex with Santtu-Matias Rouvali leading the Munich Philharmonic. As well, he assays the Evangelist in Schmidt’s seldom-heard oratorio Das Buch mit sieben Siegeln with Music Director Fabio Luisi leading the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Last season Paul Appleby gave the world premiere of Antony and Cleopatra by John Adams at San Francisco Opera conducted by Music Director Eun Sun Kim, reprised his internationally acclaimed title role portrayal of Bernstein’s Candide for the Opéra de Lyon, and returned to the Los Angeles Philharmonic for performances of Girls of the Golden West under the baton of the composer, John Adams. No less impressive was the tenor’s international concert diary, which included Bach’s MatthäusPassion both with the New York Philharmonic and Hong Kong Philharmonic conducted by Jaap van Zweden, as well as performances in Chicago with Music of the Baroque and Dame Jane Glover; a collaboration with the Met Chamber Orchestra at Carnegie Hall in a presentation of Britten’s Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings; Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with Marin Alsop leading the Chicago Symphony Orchestra at the Ravinia Festival; performances with the American Modern Opera Company; and a recital at the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival. A leading artist of the Metropolitan Opera, where his association with the company has yielded critically acclaimed performances, Paul Appleby has bowed in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg led both by Sir Antonio Pappano and James Levine, Rodelinda conducted by Harry Bicket, the title role of Pelléas et Mélisande conducted by Yannick Nézet-Séguin, The Rake’s Progress under the baton of James Levine, and the North American premiere of Nico Muhly’s Two Boys with David Robertson. Celebrated as a distinguished Mozartean, he has bowed at the Metropolitan Opera in the leading tenor roles of Die Zauberflöte, Don Giovanni, and Die Entführung aus dem Serail. Operatic performances span both world premieres and beloved classics and have included Pelléas et Mélisande at Dutch National Opera led by Stéphane Denève; the world premiere of John Adams and Peter Sellars’ Girls of the Golden West at the Dutch National Opera and San Francisco Opera; Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress at the Festival d’Aix-en-Provence, Oper Frankfurt, and Dutch National Opera; Handel’s Saul directed by Barrie Kosky at Glyndebourne and Houston Grand Opera; and Die Zauberflöte at Teatro Real, San Francisco Opera, and Washington National Opera. Closely affiliated with the title role of Béatrice et Bénédict, he has been lauded in performances at Glyndebourne directed by Laurent Pelly
and conducted by Antonello Manacorda, at the Opéra de Paris under the direction of Philippe Jordan, and in a new production for his debut with Oper Köln conducted by François-Xavier Roth. Other highlights of the recent past include concert performances of Die Zauberflöte with Gustavo Dudamel and the Los Angeles Philharmonic; Handel’s Samson with the Dunedin Consort at the Edinburgh International Festival; Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius with the Bamberger Symphoniker; and a wide range of repertoire and on numerous occasions in North America and Europe with his frequent musical partner Manfred Honeck. Respected as a consummate recital artist, Paul Appleby has presented solo appearances at the Wigmore Hall with Malcolm Martineau, toured North America extensively with pianists Natalia Katyukova, Ken Noda, and Conor Hanick,and has given his Tanglewood debut in a performance of Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Vanished with Emanuel Ax. With pianist Wu Han, he has sung Schubert’s masterpiece, Winterreise, under the auspices of The Schubert Club. Paul Appleby’s recording catalogue includes Nico Muhly’s opera Two Boys, recorded live by the Metropolitan Opera and released by Nonesuch; DVDs of Glyndebourne’s acclaimed presentation of Handel’s Saul and Berlioz’s Béatrice et Bénédict released commercially by Opus Arte; Dear Theo, the first album dedicated solely to works by American composer Ben Moore released by Delos; and Songs and Structures, a portrait album of recent vocal and chamber works by composer Harold Meltzer released on Bridge Records; in addition to other recordings by Virgin Classics, and EMI’s Juilliard Sessions. Mr. Appleby is a founding core member of the American Modern Opera Company (AMOC) and is a graduate of the Metropolitan Opera’s Lindemann Young Artist Development Program. A recipient of an Artist Diploma in Opera Studies at The Juilliard School, he also earned a Master’s Degree from Juilliard and a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature and in Music from the University of Notre Dame. MARTIN NÉRON Martin Néron is on the faculty at WCC. He is the artistic director of the Vocalis Consort, an ensemble which strives to showcase overlooked vocal works. He designed and managed Canto Latino CyberChallenge in 2021, an international competition which features and promotes vocal repertoire from Latin America. Martin has held residencies at WSU Pullman, SUNY Potsdam, UK Lexington,Tennessee TU, and Fundación Armonía (Ecuador), and gave masterclasses and lectures at Princeton University, Longy School, Butler University, OSU Columbus, TCNJ, Rowan University, Hunter College, NATS, Arte Lirico, and Universidad Central del Ecuador. He was on the faculty at the Taos Opera Institute (2019-2021), and Vice-President of the Joy in Singing Foundation (2017-2019). He is co-founder, co-artistic director, and Vice-President of the newly incorporated Federation of the Art Song. Praised as “an attentive partner” (Opera News), Martin has collaborated on several recordings of art songs. His scholarly work is featured in the Journal of Singing and Leyerle Publications. He holds degrees from the MSM (DMA), WCC (MM), and U de M (BM).
About Rider University & Westminster Choir College Located in Lawrenceville, New Jersey, Rider University is a private co-educational, student-centered university that emphasizes purposeful connections between academic study and real-world learning experience. Rider prepares graduates to thrive professionally, to be lifelong independent learners, and to be responsible citizens who embrace diversity, support the common good, and contribute meaningfully to the changing world in which they live and work. The College of Arts and Sciences is dedicated to educating students for engaged citizenship, career success, and personal growth in a diverse and complex world. The college cultivates intellectual reflection, artistic creativity, and academic maturity by promoting both broad academic inquiry and in-depth disciplinary study, while nurturing effective and ethical applications of transferable critical skills. The College consists of four schools: the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, the School of Communication, Media, and Performing Arts, the School of Science, Technology, and Mathematics, and Westminster Choir College. Culturally vibrant and historically rich, Westminster Choir College has a legacy of preparing students for thriving careers as well-rounded performers and musical leaders on concert stages, in schools, universities, and churches, and in professional and community organizations worldwide. Renowned for its tradition of choral excellence, the college is home to internationally recognized ensembles, including the Westminster Symphonic Choir, which has performed and recorded with virtually all of the major orchestras and conductors of our time. In addition to its choral legacy, Westminster is known as a center for excellence in musical pedagogy and performance.
Upcoming Performances CURTAIN UP: ARRIVAL Saturday, February 17, 7:30 p.m. Sunday, February 18, 2 p.m. Bart Luedeke Center Theater RADIUM GIRLS Friday, February 23, 7:30 p.m. Saturday, February 24, 2 p.m. & 7:30 p.m. Sunday, February 25, 2 p.m. Yvonne Theater CARMINA BURANA: ORCHESTRA OF ST. LUKE'S WITH WESTMINSTER SYMPHONIC CHOIR & YOUNG PEOPLE’S CHORUS OF NEW YORK CITY Tuesday February 27, 8 p.m. Carnegie Hall RIDER DANCES Saturday, March 2, 7:30 p.m. Sunday, March 3, 2 p.m. Bart Luedeke Center Theater LINDSEY CHRISTIANSEN ART SONG FESTIVAL Sunday, March 3, 7 p.m. Gill Chapel A DOLL’S HOUSE Friday, March 22, 7:30 p.m. Saturday, March 23, 2 p.m. & 7:30 p.m. Sunday, March 24, 2 p.m. Yvonne Theater CELEBRATION OF BLACK MUSIC Saturday, March 23, 7:30 p.m. (Lecture Recital) Sunday, March 24, 3 p.m. (Concert) Gill Chapel FOR MORE INFORMATION ON UPCOMING PERFORMANCES, SUBSCRIPTION AND PATRON PROGRAM OPTIONS, VISIT RIDER.EDU/ARTS.