On the Upbeat January 2014 • Volume 7, Edition 3
2013-2014 Subscription Series
January 25 and 26, 2014
A few words
The Life of Verdi 200th Anniversary Gala
Dear Music Lovers, It is my pleasure to continue welcoming you to our 61st season. Each program of our subscription series is offering something unique and special which combines the greatest works of the symphonic repertoire together with some works that we are delighted to unveil for you. The programs of the season bring flavors from four centuries of music history, and include versatile styles and different emotions and experiences. Join us to rediscover some of your favorite music, with interesting connections that you may not have thought of before. Because education is at the core of our mission, we strive to make each season a feast of learning and growth. Whether you’re new to the world of the classics or a seasoned expert, our goal as a symphony family is to explore, teach and learn together. Discovering something new and making classical music part of our community is our vision and by joining us this season you can help make it a reality. No season is complete without a celebration of some of the very best this art form has to offer—and this season we’re performing works by Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, Copland, Wagner, Verdi and many others, from the exquisite talents of Hélène Grimaud to the undeniably powerful compositions of Dmitri Shostakovich, all played by the motivated and passionate musicians of the Santa Barbara Symphony. Joining us this season gives you the chance to rediscover the music you love. Come celebrate with us, and I look forward to seeing you at the fabulous Granada Theatre!
Nir Kabaretti, Conductor
Angel Joy Blue, Soprano John Pickle, Tenor with the Santa Barbara Choral Society JoAnne Wasserman, Director Said Ramón Araïza, host Overture to I Vespri Siciliani “Caro Nome” from Rigoletto “La donna è mobile” from Rigoletto “Già nella notte densa” from Otello Overture to Nabucco “Gli arredi festivi” from the Nabucco “Va, pensiero” from Nabucco — INTERMISSION — Overture to La Forza del Destino “Pace, pace, mio Dio” from La Forza del Destino “Patria oppressa” from Macbeth “Forse la soglia attinse... Ma se m’è forza perderti” from Un Ballo in Maschera “É strano... Sempre libera” from La Traviata “Noi siamo zingarelle... Di Madride” from La Traviata sponsored by
Chris and David Chernof
Dick and Marilyn Mazess
PRINCIPAL CONCERT SPONSORS
Join Ramón Araïza for “Behind the Music” beginning one hour before each concert! Sponsored by Marilynn L. Sullivan & Marlyn Bernard Bernstein
Nir Kabaretti 1
Program Notes by Dr. Richard E. Rodda Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)
Overture to I Vespri Siciliani (“The Sicilian Vespers”) (1853-1855) The story of The Sicilian Vespers concerns the Easter Monday uprising on March 30, 1282 by the people of Palermo against the French forces occupying their island. The ringing of the bells for Vespers on that day was the signal for the start of the revolt. The libretto emphasized the theatrical elements of the story — its crowd (i.e., chorus) scenes, grandiose settings and murderous ending. (Wagner, living in Paris at the time after having been run out of Germany for his part in the 1848 uprising in Dresden, called the opera “a night of carnage.”) The text, built on the formulas of French grand opera that reveled in spectacle, allowed Verdi little chance to exploit the operatic style of direct, intense, personal expression that he had developed in Rigoletto (1851), La Traviata and Il Trovatore (both 1853), and, except for the Overture, little of the music that he supplied for it reaches the heights of his middle-period masterpieces. The Overture, the last Verdi wrote in the sonata-with-slow-introduction form characteristic of Rossini’s theatrical prefaces, borrows several themes from the opera, one of which he pilfered from Giovanna d’Arco (“Joan of Arc”) of 1845. As well as any music given to the orchestra, the Sicilian Vespers Overture conjures the magical world of footlights and greasepaint that Verdi ruled for half a century.
“Caro Nome” (“Dear Name”) from Rigoletto (1850-1851) Rigoletto opens at a party in the palace of the libertine Duke of Mantua, who declares that he takes his pleasure where he finds it. The Duke’s latest quarry is Gilda, the daughter of Rigoletto, his court jester. After an assignation with the Duke, Gilda sings of her infatuation in the tuneful and spectacular aria Caro nome. Gualtier Maldè, nome di lui si amato, ti scolpisci nel core innamorato! Caro nome che il mio cor festi primo palpitar, le delizie dell’amor
Gualtier Maldè, the name of him I love so. It’s graven on my heart! Carved upon my inmost heart is that name for evermore, never again from thence to part,
mi dêi sempre rammentar! Col pensier il mio desir a te sempre volerà, e fin l’ultimo sospir, caro nome, tuo sarà, ecc. Gualtier Maldè!
name of love that I adore! Thou to me art ever near, every thought to thee will fly, life for thee alone is dear, thine shall be my parting sigh, etc. Gualtier Maldè! Continues
“La donna è mobile” (“All Women Are Fickle”) from Rigoletto The Duke of Mantua, one of opera’s most notorious libertines, sings of his brazen attitude toward love in the aria La donna è mobile. La donna è mobile qual piuma al vento, muta d’accento e di pensiero. Sempre un amabile leggiadro viso, in pianto, in riso, è menzognero. La donna è mobile, ecc.
E sempre misero chi a lei s’affida, chi le confida mal cauto il core! Pur mai non sentesi felice appieno chi su quel seno non liba amore. La donna è mobile, ecc.
All women are fickle as a feather in a breeze, to one thing never constant. A countenance of grace and charm in tears or smiles is only lying. All women, etc.
Sorrow and misery follow her smiling, fond heart beguiling, falsehood assailing! Yet all felicity is her bestowing, no joy worth knowing is there but wooing. All women, etc.
“Già nella notte densa” (“Now, in the Darkness of the Night”) from Otello (1884-1887) Otello, the Moorish general of the Venetian army and governor of 15th-century Cyprus, returns home amid a violent storm after his victory over the Turkish fleet. When the storm has passed, and before Iago, Otello’s ensign, can execute his plan to undermine the love of the general and his wife, Desdemona, out of revenge for promoting another officer instead of himself, the lovers sing a rapturous duet Già nella notte densa (“Now, in the Darkness of the Night”) to close Act I. As the curtain falls, Otello leads his wife into the castle as stars and moon appear from behind the clouds. OTELLO Già nella notte densa s’estingue ogni clamor. Già il mio core fremebondo s’ammansa in questo amplesso e si rinsensa. Tuoni la guerra e s’inabissi il mondo se dopo l’ira immensa vien quest’immenso amor!
Now, in the darkness of the night, all harsh sounds die away. And now my turbulent heart finds in this embrace a calm refreshment. May cannons roar and may the world collapse, if after the immeasurable destruction comes this immeasurable love! DESDEMONA
Mio superbo guerrier! Quanti tormenti, quanti mesti sospiri e quanta speme ci condusse ai soavi abbracciamenti! Oh! Com’è dolce il mormorare insieme: te ne rammenti? Quando narravi l’esule tua vita e i fieri eventi e i lunghi tuoi dolor, ed io t’udia coll’anima rapita in quei spaventi, coll’estasi nel cor.
My splendid warrior! What anguish, what deep sighs and what high hopes have strewn the path to our glad union! Oh, how sweet to murmur thus together! Do you remember? You used to tell me of your life in exile, of violent deeds and suffering long endured, and I would listen, transported by the tales that terrified, but thrilled my heart as well. OTELLO
Pingea dell’armi il fremito, la pugna e il vol gagliardo alla breccia mortal, l’assalto, orribil edera, coll’ugna al baluardo e il sibilante stral.
I would describe the clash of arms, the fight and violent thrust towards the fatal breach, the assault, when hands, like grisly tendrils, clung to bastions amid the hissing darts.
DESDEMONA Poi mi guidavi ai fulgidi deserti, all’arse arene, al tuo materno suol; narravi allor gli spasimi sofferti e le catene e dello schiavo il duol.
Then you would lead me to the glaring desert, to scorching sands, the country of your birth; and you would relate your sufferings, tell me of chains and slavery’s agony. OTELLO
Ingentilia di lagrime la storia il tuo bel viso e il labbro di sospir; scendean sulle mie tenebre la gloria, il paradiso e gli astri a benedir.
Softened by your tears, your lovely face and sighing lips, the tale became less harsh; upon my darkness shone a glory, a heavenly radiance and all the starry host, in benediction. DESDEMONA
Ed io vedea fra le tua tempie oscure splender del genio l’eterna beltà.
And I descried upon your dusky forehead the splendor of your genius’ deathless beauty. OTELLO
E tu m’amavi per le mie sventure, ed io t’amavo per la tua pietà.
And you loved me for the dangers I had passed, and I loved you that you did pity them. DESDEMONA
Ed io t’amavo per le tue sventure And I loved you for the dangers you had passed, e tu m’amavi per la mia pietà. and you loved me that I did pity them. OTELLO And you loved me …
E tu m’amavi … DESDEMONA
And you loved me …
E tu m’amavi … OTELLO
And I loved you …
Ed io t’amavo …
OTELLO, DESDEMONA ... that you/I did pity them.
… per la tua/mia pietà. OTELLO Venga la morte! e mi colga nell’estasi di quest’amplesso il momento supremo! Tal è gaudio dell’anima che temo, temo che più non mi sara concesso quest’attimo divino nell’ignoto avvenir del mio destino.
Let death come now! that in the ecstasy of this embrace I meet my hour of hours! Such rapture of the soul makes me afraid, fearful that never more may be vouchsafed this state of bliss in all the unknown destiny to come. DESDEMONA May heaven dispel all cares and may love change not with the changing years.
Disperda il ciel gli affanni e amor non muti col mutar degli anni.
OTELLO A questa tua preghiera “Amen” risponda la celeste schiera.
To this your prayer may all the heavenly host reply “Amen.” DESDEMONA
May it reply “Amen.” OTELLO
Ah! La gioia m’innonda si fieramente … che ansante mi giacio … Un bacio …
Ah! Joy floods my breast so violently … it takes my breath away … A kiss … DESDEMONA
Otello! Othello! OTELLO Un bacio … ancora un bacio. Già la pleiade ardente in mar discende.
A kiss … another kiss. Already the blazing Pleides sink ’neath the waves. DESDEMONA
Tarda è la notte.
The night is advanced. OTELLO
Vien … Venere splende.
Come … Venus is radiant. DESDEMONA
Otello! Othello! (They go slowly towards the castle, clasped in each other’s arms.)
Overture to Nabucco (1841) “Gli arredi festivi” (“Throw Down the Festive Decorations”) from Nabucco “Va, pensiero” (“Fly, Thoughts”) from Nabucco The plot of Nabucco concerns the faithfulness of the Hebrews to God during their Babylonian Captivity. The chorus Va, Pensiero (“Fly, Thoughts”) struck a sympathetic chord in its Italian listeners, and became the opera’s instant hit and one of Verdi’s most enduring contributions to his country’s culture. At the time of the premiere (March 9, 1842 at La Scala) much of northern Italy was still ruled by the Austrian Habsburgs under terms dictated by the Congress of Vienna more than 25 years before. Most Italians desperately wanted to be free of Austrian domination, and supported the revolutionary movement known as the Risorgimento (the “resurgence” of national pride that the descendents of ancient Rome regarded as their long-denied birthright). Va, Pensiero, the passionate hymn of freedom, became the movement’s anthem and Verdi its hero. When Cavour called the first parliamentary session of the newly united Italy in 1859, Verdi was elected as the representative from Busseto. Though reluctant to enter the political arena, he was sufficiently patriotic and cognizant of his standing with his countrymen to accept the mandate. So great and enduring was the fame of Va, Pensiero that it was sung by the crowds lining the streets of Verdi’s funeral procession in Milan almost six decades after it was composed. The Overture to Nabucco is a potpourri of three themes from the opera. The opening chorale for trombones and tuba reflects the faith of the Hebrews and the belief in their eventual release from bondage. The second motive is a tempestuous melody depicting the curses of the Israelites upon the story’s temporarily-traitor-for-love, Ismael. The third theme is Va, Pensiero. The extended closing section is based on the curse theme, and accumulates great energy as the music rushes towards its vibrant closing pages. 5
Act I of Nabucco is set in Jerusalem, where the Hebrews, filled with terror, await the attack of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon. The chorus that opens the opera (Gli arredi festivi) is a prayer to God for protection from the invading Babylonians. The supplication proves futile, however, and Nebuchadnezzar captures the city, the Temple and the Hebrews. Gli arredi festivi giù cadano infranti, Il popol di Giuda di lutto s’ammanti! Ministro dell’ira del Nume sdegnato Il rege d’Assiria su noi già piombò! Di barbare schiere l’atroce ululato Nel santo delubro del Nume tuonò!
Throw down and destroy all festive decorations, let the people of Judah clothe themselves in mourning! Minister of an angry God’s wrath, the King of Assyria has fallen on us now! The horrible howlings of barbarian legions have thundered in the Holy Temple of God!
I candidi veli, fanciulle, squarciate, Le supplici braccia gridando levate; D’un labbro innocente la viva preghiera È grato profumo che sale al Signor! Pregate, fanciulle! ... Per voi della fiera Nemica falange sia nullo il furor!
Maidens, rend your white veils, raise your arms in supplication; the fervent prayer of innocent lips is a pleasing perfume in the nostrils of the Lord! Pray, maidens! ... Through you may the fury of the savage enemy legions be as naught!
Gran Nume, che voli sull’ale dei venti, Che il folgor sprigioni dai nembi frementi, Disperdi, distruggi d’Assiria le schiere, Di David la figlia ritorna al gioir! Peccammo! Ma in cielo le nostre preghiere Ottengan pietade, perdono al fallir!
Almighty God, Who fliest on the wings of the wind, Who freest the lightning flash from the quivering cloud, disperse, destroy the legions of Assyria, let the daughter of David rejoice once more! We have sinned! But in heaven may our prayers obtain mercy and forgiveness for our frailty!
Deh! l’empio non gridi con baldo blasfema: “Il Dio d’Israello si cela per tema?” Non far che i Tuoi figli divengano preda D’un folle che sprezza l’eterno poter! Non far che sul trono davidico sieda Fra gl’idoli stolti l’assiro stranier!
Oh, let not the wicked cry with blasphemous presumption: “Does the God of Israel hide Himself for fear?” Do not let Thy children fall prey to a madman who scorns Thy everlasting might! Do not permit the Assyrian foe to sit among his false idols upon the throne of David!
Va, Pensiero (“Fly, Thoughts”) is the great chorus of the Hebrews on the banks of the Euphrates in which they express longing for their lost freedom and their distant homeland. Fly, thoughts, on wings of gold; go settle upon the slopes and the hills, where, soft and mild, the sweet airs of our native land smell fragrant! Greet the banks of the Jordan and Zion’s toppled towers. Oh, my country, so lovely and lost! Oh, remembrance so dear and so fraught with despair! Golden harp of the prophetic seers, Why dost thou hang mute upon the willow? Rekindle our bosom’s memories, and speak of times gone by! Mindful of the fate of Jerusalem, either give forth an air of sad lamentation, or else let the Lord imbue us with fortitude to bear our sufferings!
Va, pensiero, sull’ali dorate; Va, ti posa sui clivi, sui colli, Ove olezzano tepide e molli L’aure dolci del suolo natal! Del Giordano le rive saluta, Di Sionne le torri atterrate. Oh, mia patria sì bella e perduta! Oh, membranza sì cara e fatal! Arpa d’or del fatidici vati, Perchè muta dal salice pendi? Le memorie nel petto raccendi, Ci favella del tempo che fu! O simile di Solima ai fati Traggi un suono di crudo lamento, O t’ispiri il Signore un concento Che ne infonda al patire virtù! 6
Overture to La Forza del Destino (“The Force of Destiny”) (1861) “Pace, pace, mio Dio” (Peace, Peace, My God”) from La Forza del Destino La Forza del Destino is set in 18th-century Spain. Alvaro has accidentally killed the father of his beloved, Leonora, during the lovers’ attempted elopement. Separately, they flee. Leonora’s brother, Carlo, swears vengeance on both her and their father’s murderer. Leonora first seeks refuge at a convent, and then goes to live as a hermit in a cave. Carlo and Alvaro meet during a military encounter, and Carlo discovers the true identity of his adversary just after Alvaro is carried away, wounded. Alvaro joins the Church as a monk, but he is followed by Carlo who enrages Alvaro to the point of a duel. They fight near Leonora’s cave, interrupting her prayers (Pace, pace, mio Dio!— “Peace, peace, my God!”), and she goes to see what is causing the commotion. As she emerges from her cave, the lovers recognize each other, and Alvaro cries that he has spilled the blood of yet another of her family. She rushes off to help her fatally wounded brother, but Carlo, with his last bit of strength, stabs Leonora, and she dies in Alvaro’s arms. The Overture, utilizing several themes from the opera, reflects the strong emotions of the work, though it does not follow the progress of the story. It opens with a stern summons of six unison notes, after which appears the agitated theme representing Fate. This motto recurs throughout both the Overture and the opera as a symbol of the workings of destiny on the principal characters. The brief introduction is followed by an expressive, lyrical melody for woodwinds over pizzicato string accompaniment (sung later in the opera by one of Alvaro’s fellow priests) under which are heard the mutterings of the Fate theme. The violins then give an impassioned phrase from Leonora’s Act II prayer. The Fate theme reappears in a menacing guise before the woodwinds sing a reminder of the priest’s melody. Another of Leonora’s themes, given by clarinet over a rustling harp background, is interrupted as the brass intone a chorale. Leonora’s melody continues in a slower setting for full orchestra, and is then treated to another variation in staccato eighth notes combined with the Fate motive. An energetic coda brings this stirring Overture to a close. Peace, peace, my God, give me peace! Bitter misfortune has brought me low. I suffer now as I did the very day I entered these long years of hardship. Peace, O mighty Father, give me peace! I loved him, it is true! But Heaven had given him such beauty and courage that I cannot help loving him still, nor expunge his image from my heart. A tragedy! A tragedy! That a fatal accident should have driven us apart in this world! Alvaro, I love you, but it is the decree of Heaven that I shall never see you again! Oh, Father everlasting, let me die; for only in death shall I ever find peace. In vain this soul of mine seeks rest but is a prey to long and bitter woe.
Pace, pace, mio Dio! Cruda sventura m’astringe, ahimè, a languir; come il dì primo da tant’anni dura profondo il mio soffrir. Pace, pace, mio Dio, pace, mio Dio. L’amai, gli è ver, ma di beltà e valore cotanto Iddio l’ornò, che l’amo ancor, nè togliermi dal core l’immagin sua saprò. Fatalità, fatalità, fatalità! Un delitto disgiunti n’ha quaggiù! Alvaro, io t’amo, e su nel cielo è scritto non ti vedrò mai più! Oh, Dio, Dio fa ch’io muoia; chè la calma può darmi morte sol. Invan la pace qui sperò quest’alma in preda a tanto duol, in mezzo a tanto duol.
(She crosses to a rock where some provisions have been left for her.) Miserable food, you have come only to prolong a life of wretchedness. But whom do I hear approaching? Who dares profane this sacred place? The curse! The curse!
Misero pane, a prolungarmi vieni la sconsolata vita. Ma chi giunge? Chi profanare ardisce il sacro loco? Maledizione! Maledizione! 7
Patria oppressa (“Oppressed Homeland”) from Macbeth (1847) The last act of Macbeth opens with a chorus of Scottish refugees (Patria oppressa) who lament the plight of their country under the oppressive rule of the usurper. Oppressed homeland! the sweet name of mother, no, you cannot have, now that for your children you have become one great tomb! The cry of orphans and bereft in turn lamenting a dead husband or child at the coming of each new dawn rises and wounds the heavens. To that cry Heaven responds as if, stirred to pity, it would spread throughout the universe, oppressed homeland, your sorrow. The death-knell tolls ceaselessly, but none is so bold as to shed a vain tear for the suffering and the dying! Oppressed homeland! Oppressed country! Oh, my homeland! Oh, my native soil!
Patria oppressa! il dolce nome, no, di madre aver non puoi, or che tutta a’ figli tuoi sei conversa in un avel! D’orfanelli e di piangenti chi lo sposo e chi la prole al venir del nuovo sole s’alza un grido e fere il ciel. A quel grido il ciel risponde quasi voglia impietosito propagar per l’infinito, patria oppressa, il tuo dolor. Suona a morto ognor la squilla, ma nessuno audace è tanto che pur doni un vano pianto a chi soffre ed a chi muor! Patria oppressa! Patria oppressa! patria mia! Oh, patria!
Forse la soglia attinse … Ma se m’è forza perderti (“Perhaps She Has Reached Home … But If I Am Forced to Lose You”) from Un Ballo in Maschera (“A Masked Ball”) (1857-1858) Riccardo, governor of 17th-century Boston, secretly loves Amelia, wife of his friend and secretary, Renato. Amelia tries to resist returning Riccardo’s affection, but she admits that his feelings are requited. Riccardo, fearful of the consequences of their love, decides to end the affair by transferring Renato and his wife to a new post in England, and sings of his sacrifice in the dramatic aria Ma se m’è forza perderti (“But if I am forced to lose you”) after he has signed the papers ordering their departure. Forse la soglia attinse, E posa alfin. — L’onore Ed il dover fra i nostri petti han rotto L’abisso. Ah sì, Renato Rivedrà l’lnghilterra … e la sua sposa Lo seguirà. Senza un addio, l’immenso Oceàn ne sepàri ... E taccia il core.
Perhaps she has reached home And now is resting. — Honor And duty have opened an abyss Between our hearts. Ah, yes, Renato Will see England again ... and his wife Will accompany him. Without a farewell Let the great ocean separate us And silence our hearts.
(he writes, and as he is about to sign he lays down his pen) Esito ancor? Ma, oh ciel, non lo degg’io?
I hesitate still? But, O Heaven, is it not my duty? (signs and slips the paper into his breast pocket)
Ah, l’ho segnato il sacrifizio mio!
Ah, I have signed my sacrifice!
But if I am forced to lose you Forever, o light of my life, With you will go all my yearning. No matter under which skies you live, Lock your memories in Your heart’s most secret regions. But what dark foreboding Assails my troubled spirit, That we shall see each other again Reawakens a fateful desire … As if it were to be the last Hour of our love?
Ma se m’è forza perderti Per sempre, o luce mia, A te verrà il mio palpito Sotto qual ciel tu sia, Chiusa la tua memoria Nell’intimo del cor. Ed or qual reo presagio Lo spirito m’assale, Che il rivederti annunzia Quasi un desio fatale … Come se fosse l’ultima Ora del nostro amor?
“É strano ... Sempre libera” (“It’s Strange … Ever Free”) from La Traviata (“The Fallen Woman”) (1852-1853) “Noi siamo zingarelle ... Di Madride” (“We Are Pretty Gypsies … We’re the Matadors of Madrid”) from La Traviata At a party in the courtesan Violetta’s house in Paris, she finds herself drawn to a young man, Alfredo Germont, who, a friend tells her, has admired her from afar for some time. Alfredo warns the consumptive Violetta that she will kill herself if she persists with her present mode of living, and then confesses that he has loved her since the day he first saw her a year before. He departs. Violetta, alone, muses on the night’s happenings, and is surprised at how strangely Alfredo’s words have affected her (É strano! è strano!). She reveals her longing “to love and be loved” in the expressive aria Ah, forse’è lui, but soon dismisses these thoughts as hopeless folly for a woman of her sort. She says she will give up on love and renew her pursuit of pleasure (Sempre libera degg’io), but Alfredo’s voice floating in through the window gives her pause. Act I ends with Violetta’s brilliant commendation of the sensuous life. É strano! ... è strano! ... In core scolpiti ho quegli accenti! Saria per mia sventura un serio amore? Che risolvi, o turbata anima mia? Null’uomo ancora t’accendeva ... O, gioia ch’io non conobbi, esser amata amando! E sdegnarla poss’io per l’aride follie del viver mio?
It’s strange ... it’s strange! His words are carved in my heart. Would real love be a misfortune for me? What do you say, my troubled soul? No man has ever been your light. Oh joy that I never knew, of loving and being loved! Shall I now disregard it for the empty follies of my life?
Ah, fors’è lui che l’anima solinga ne’ tumulti, godea sovente pingere de’ suoi colori occulti! Lui, che modesto e vigile, all’egre soglie ascese, e nuova febbre accese destandomi all’amor? A quell’amor, quell’amor ch’è palpito dell’universo, dell’universo intero, misterioso, misterioso altero, croce e delizia, delizia al cor.
Ah! perhaps it is he, who, when my soul was lonely and troubled, used to tint it with invisible colors, invisible colors. He who, humbly and watchfully, came to the threshold of my sickroom, and kindled in me a new fever waking my heart to love! Ah, such love, such love so tremulous! Out of the universe, the heavenly universe, mysteriously, mysteriously from on high, come sorrow and gladness to the heart.
(She wakens from her reverie.) Folly! Folly! This is madness! For me, a poor woman, alone and abandoned in this populated desert which is called Paris, what am I hoping for? What should I do? Enjoy myself! Then end in a vortex of dissipation. Ever free my heart must be, as I flit from joy to joy, I want my life to glide along the paths of pleasure. May the dying or dawning day always find me in haunts of mirth, and to ever-new delights may my thoughts soar and fly.
Follie! Follie! delirio vano è questo! Povera donna, sola, abbandonata in questo popoloso deserto, che appellano Parigi, che spero or più? Che far degg’io? Gioire, di voluttà nei vortici perire. Sempre libera degg’io folleggiare di gioia in gioia, vo’ che scorra il viver mio pei sentieri del piacer. Nasca il giorno, o il giorno muoia, sempre lieta ne’ ritrovi A diletti sempre nuovi dee volare il mio pensier.
Act II, Scene 2 of La Traviata is set at a festive party in a richly decorated Parisian townhouse. Some of the guests are disguised as Gypsy fortune-tellers and others as Spanish matadors; each group entertains with a song and dance. Noi siamo zingarelle venute da lontano; d’ognuno sulla mano leggiamo l’avvenir. Se consultiam le stelle null’avvi a noi d’oscuro, e i casi del futuro possiamo altrui predir. Se consultiam le stelle ... Vediamo: Voi, signora, rivali alquanto avete. Marchese, voi non siete model di fedeltà. Su via, si stenda un velo sui fatti del passato; già quel ch’è stato è stato, badiamo all’avvenir. Su via ...
We are pretty gypsies come from afar. We read the future in everyone’s hand. If we consult the stars nothing is unknown to us, we can predict to others the events of the future. If we consult the stars ... Let’s see: You, lady, have many rivals. Marquis, you are not a model of fidelity. Come, spread a veil o’er the facts of your past. What has been, has been; the future takes care of itself. Come, spread ...
Di Madride noi siam mattadori, siamo i prodi del circo dei tori; testè giunti a godere del chiasso che a Parigi si fa pel Bue grasso; e una storia se udire vorrete, quali amanti noi siamo, saprete. Sì sì bravi; narrate, narrate; con piacere l’udremo. Ascoltate. È Piquillo un bel gagliardo biscaglino mattador; forte il braccio, fiero il guardo,
We’re the Matadors of Madrid; we’re the champions of the bull ring just arrived in Paris to enjoy the feasting before Lent. And we’re ready to tell a tale about the kind of lovers we are. Yes, yes, valiants, recite, recite, we’ll hear you with pleasure. All, now hear us. Piquillo is a strong young fellow, a Matador of Biscay; his arm is stout, his glance is proud, 10
he is master in a fight. With an Andalusian maiden he fell madly in love; but the pretty willful maid to the youth thus said: “I wish to see you fight five bulls in a single day; and if you are the victor, I’ll give you my hand and heart.” Then “yes,” said the Matador, and off to the fray he went. Against five bulls he was the winner, and in the arena they lay. Bravo, bravo Indeed the Matador showed himself to be a gallant, if in such a way he proved his love to the maiden. Then, with applause, he returned to the fair one of his heart, and received the desired reward in the arms of his beloved. With such prowess, the matadors know how to conquer sweethearts. But here hearts are gentler; we need only to be merry. Yes, lightly let us now tempt the fickleness of Fortune; let’s start a game of chance for the boldest gambler. Yes, lightly let us now tempt ...
delle giostre egli è signor. D’Andalusa giovinetta follemente innamorò; ma la bella ritrosetta così al giovane parlò: “Cinque tori in un sol giorno vo’ vederti ad atterrar; e se vinci, al tuo ritorno mano e cor ti vo’ donar.” “Sì,” gli disse, e il mattadore alle giostre mosse il piè; cinque tori, vincitore, sull’ arena egli stendè. Bravo invero, il mattadore ben gagliardo si mostrò, se alla giovine l’amore in tal guisa egli provò. Poi tra plausi, ritornato alla bella del suo cor, colse il premio desiato tra le braccia dell’ amor. Con tai prove i mattadori san le belle conquistar! Ma qui son più miti i cori; a noi basta folleggiar. Sì, allegri — or pria tentiamo della sorte il vario umor. La palestra dischiudiamo agli audaci giuocator. Sì, allegri — or pria tentiamo ...
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(805) 899-2222 • www.thesymphony.org ©OnSBS_YNO2014(JanProg8.5x5.5+bleed).indd the Upbeat, JANUARY 2014 VOL. 7, EDITION 3. Published for Symphony Series concert subscribers by the Santa Barbara 1 1/16/14 11:28 AM Symphony, 1330 State Street, Suite 102, Santa Barbara, CA 93101, (805) 898-9386 — A non-profit organization.