esteban cordero tenor
master of music degree recital March 28, 2014 • Morse Recital Hall
Robert Blocker, Dean
Master of Music Degree Recital
esteban cordero tenor Kyle Swann, piano Friday, March 28, 2014 • 5:00 pm • Morse Recital Hall
W.A. Mozart 1756–1791
Misero! O sogno, o son desto?, K. 431
Claude Debussy 1862–1918
Fêtes Galantes Premier recueil I. En sourdine II. Fantoches III. Clair de lune
Benjamin Britten 1913–1976
Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo, Op. 22 XVI. Si come nella penna XXXI. A che più debb’io mai XXX. Veggio co’ bei vostri occhi LV. Tu sa’ ch’io so XXXVIII. Rendete agli occhi miei XXXII. S’un casto amor XXIV. Spirto ben nato
Anonymous
Paul Verlaine
Michelangelo Buonarroti
intermission
Joseph Marx 1882–1964
Nachtgebet Nocturne Selige Nacht Valse de Chopin, from Pierrot Lunaire Pierrot Dandy, from Pierrot Lunaire
This performance is in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Master of Music degree.
E.H.Hess Otto Erich Hartleben
Esteban Cordero, tenor
John Kander b. 1927
A letter from Sullivan Ballou
Joaquín Turina 1882–1949
Poema en forma de cancion I. Dedicatoria II. Nunca olvida III. Cantares IV. Los dos miedos V. Las locas por amor
Sullivan Ballou
Ramón de Campoamor
As a courtesy to the performers and audience, silence electronic devices. Please do not leave the hall during selections. Photography or recording of any kind is prohibited.
Texts & Translations
wolfgang amadeus mozart Misero! O sogno, o son desto? K 431 Misero! o sogno, o son desto? Chiuso è il varco all’uscita! Io dunque, o stelle! Solo in questo rinchiuso Abitato dall’ombre! Luogo tacito e mesto, ove non s’ode Nell’orror della notte Che de’ notturni augelli La lamentabil voce! I giorni miei Dovrò qui terminar? Aprite, indegne, Questa porta infernale! Spietate, aprite! Alcun non m’ode! E solo, Ne’ cavi sassi ascoso, Risponde a’ mesti accenti Eco pietoso E dovrò qui morir? Ah! negli estremi amari sospiri Almen potessi, oh Dio! Dar al caro mio ben l’ultimo addio!
Unhappy that I am! Am I dreaming or awake? The way out is barred! Here then, O stars! Alone in this enclosed silent, gloomy place haunted by shadows, where nothing is heard in the horror of the night save the mournful voices of nocturnal birds must I end my days? Open this infernal gate, vile, pitiless creatures, open, open! No one hears me, and, hidden in these rocky caves, only a merciful echo answers my cries. Must I then die here? Ah, if with my final bitter sighs I could at least – Oh God! – bid my beloved a last farewell!
Aura che intorno spiri, Sull’ali a lei che adoro Deh! porta i miei sospiri, Dì che per essa moro, Che più non mi vedrà! Ho mille larve intorno Di varie voci il suono; Che orribile soggiorno! Che nuova crudeltà! Che barbara sorte! Che stato dolente! Mi lagno, sospiro, Nessuno mi sente, Nel grave periglio Nessun non miro, Non spero consiglio, Non trovo pietà!
Breeze that blows around me, go, on your wings carry my sighs to her whom I adore: say that for her I die that she will never see me more. Around me are a thousand phantoms and the sound of my voices. What a dreadful abode! What new cruelty! What barbarous fate! What pitiful state! I lament, I sigh, no one hears me, in this dire peril I see no one. I have no hope of help: I find no pity!
Texts & Translations
claude debussy Fêtes Galantes Premier recueil Text by Paul Verlaine I. En sourdine
Mute
Calmes dans le demi-jour Que les branches hautes font, Pénétrons bien notre amour De ce silence profond.
Calm in the half-day That the high branches make, Let us soak well our love In this profound silence.
[Fondons] nos âmes, nos cœurs Et nos sens extasiés, Parmi les vagues langueurs Des pins et des arbousiers.
Let us mingle our souls, our hearts And our ecstatic senses Among the vague langours Of the pines and the bushes.
Ferme tes yeux à demi, Croise tes bras sur ton sein, Et de ton cœur endormi Chasse à jamais tout dessein.
Close your eyes halfway, Cross your arms on your breast, And from your sleeping heart Chase away forever all plans.
Laissons-nous persuader Au souffle berceur et doux Qui vient, à tes pieds, rider Les ondes des gazons roux.
Let us abandon ourselves To the breeze, rocking and soft, Which comes to your feet to wrinkle The waves of auburn lawns.
Et quand, solennel, le soir Des chênes noirs tombera Voix de notre désespoir, Le rossignol chantera.
And when, solemnly, the evening From the black oaks falls, The voice of our despair, The nightingale will sing.
II. Fantoches
Puppets
Scaramouche et Pulcinella, Qu’un mauvais dessein rassembla, Gesticulent noirs sous la lune,
Scaramouche and Pulcinella, brought together by some evil scheme gesticulate, black beneath the moon.
Cependant l’excellent docteur Bolonais Cueille avec lenteur des simples Parmi l’herbe brune.
Meanwhile, the learned doctor from Bologna slowly gathers medicinal herbs in the brown grass.
Texts & Translations
Lors sa fille, piquant minois, Sous la charmille, en tapinois, Se glisse demi-nue,
Then his sassy-faced daughter sneaks underneath the arbor half-naked, in quest
En quête de son beau pirate espagnol, Dont un langoureux rossignol Clame la détresse à tue-tête.
Of her handsome Spanish pirate, whose distress a languorous nightingale deafeningly proclaims.
III. Claire de Lune
Moonlight
Votre âme est un paysage choisi Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques, Jouant du luth et dansant, et quasi Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques!
Your soul is a chosen landscape charmed by masquers and revellers playing the lute and dancing and almost sad beneath their fanciful disguises!
Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur L’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune. Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur, Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,
Even while singing, in a minor key, of victorious love and fortunate living they do not seem to believe in their happiness, and their song mingles with the moonlight,
Au calme clair de lune triste et beau, Qui fait rêver, les oiseaux dans les arbres, Et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau, Les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres.
The calm moonlight, sad and beautiful, which sets the birds in the trees dreaming, and makes the fountains sob with ecstasy, the tall slender fountains among the marble statues!
benjamin britten Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo, Op. 22 Text by Michelangelo Buonarroti XVI. Si come nella penna
Just as in pen
Sì come nella penna e nell’inchiostro È l’alto e ‘l basso e ‘l mediocre stile, E ne’ marmi l’immagin ricca e vile, Secondo che ‘l sa trar l’ingegno nostro; Così, signor mie car, nel petto vostro, Quante l’orgoglio, è forse ogni atto umile:
Just as in pen and ink there is a high, low, and medium style, and in marble are images rich and vile, according to the art with which we fashion it, so, my dear lord, in your heart, along with pride, are perhaps some humble thoughts: but I draw thence only what is proper for myself in accordance with what my features show.
Ma io sol quel c’a me proprio è e simile Ne traggo, come fuor nel viso mostro.
Texts & Translations
Chi semina sospir, lacrime e doglie, (L’umor dal ciel terreste, schietto e solo, A vari semi vario si converte), Però pianto e dolor ne miete e coglie; Chi mira alta beltà con sì gran duolo, Dubbie speranze, e pene acerbe e certe.
Who sows sighs, tears and lamentations (dew from heaven on earth, pure and simple, converts itself differently to varied seeds) will reap and gather tears and sorrow; he who gazes upon exalted beauty with such pain will have doubtful hopes and bitter, certain sorrows.
XXXI. A che più debb’io mai
To what purpose do I express
A che più debb’io mai l’intensa voglia Sfogar con pianti o con parole meste, Se di tal sorte ‘l ciel, che l’alma veste, Tard’ o per tempo, alcun mai non ne spoglia? A che ‘l cor lass’ a più morir m’invoglia, S’altri pur dee morir? Dunque per queste Luci l’ore del fin fian men moleste; Ch’ogn’ altro ben val men ch’ogni mia doglia. Però se ‘l colpo, ch’io ne rub’ e ‘nvolo, Schifar non poss’; almen, s’è destinato, Ch entrerà ‘nfra la dolcezza e ‘l duolo? Se vint’ e pres’ i’ debb’esser beato, Maraviglia non è se nud’ e solo, Resto prigion d’un Cavalier armato.
To what purpose do I express my intense desire with tears and sorrowful words when heaven, which clothes my soul, neither sooner or later relieves me of it? To what purpose does my weary heart long to die, when all must die? So to these eyes my last hour will be less painful, all my joy being less than all my pains. If I cannot avoid the blow, even seek them; since it is destined, who will stand between sweetness and sorrow? If I must be conquered in order to be happy, no wonder then that I, unarmed and alone, remain the prisoner of an armed Cavalier?
XXX. Veggio co’ bei vostri occhi
I see through your lovely eyes
Veggio co’ bei vostri occhi un dolce lume, Che co’ miei ciechi già veder non posso; Porto co’ vostri piedi un pondo addosso, Che de’ mie zoppi non è già costume. Volo con le vostr’ale senza piume; Col vostr’ingegno al ciel sempre son mosso; Dal vostr’arbitrio son pallido e rosso, Freddo al sol, caldo alle più fredde brume. Nel voler vostro è sol la voglia mia, I mie’ pensier nel vostro cor si fanno, Nel vostro fiato son le mie parole. Come luna da sè sol par ch’io sia; Chè gli occhi nostri in ciel veder non sanno Se non quel tanto che n’accende il sole.
I see through your lovely eyes a sweet light which through my blind ones I yet cannot see; I carry with your feet a burden which with my lame ones I cannot; I fly with your wings, having none of my own; with your spirit toward heaven I am always moving; by your will I turn pale or blush, cold in the sun, warm in the coldest weather. Within your will alone is my will, my thoughts within your bosom are born, in your breath are my words. I am like the moon, alone, which our eyes cannot see in the heavens except that it is illumined by the sun.
Texts & Translations
LV. Tu sa’ ch’io so
You know that I know
Tu sa, ch’io so, signor mie, che tu sai Ch’i veni per goderti più da presso; E sai ch’i’ so, che tu sa’ c’i’ son desso: A che più indugio a salutarci omai? Se vera è la speranza che mi dai, Se vero è ‘l buon desio che m’è concesso, Rompasi il mur fra l’uno e l’altro messo; Chè doppia forza hann’ i celati guai. S’i’ amo sol di te, signor mie caro, Quel che di te più ami, non ti sdegni; Che l’un dell’altro spirto s’innamora, Quel che nel tuo bel volto bramo e ‘mparo, E mal compres’ è degli umani ingegni, Chi ‘l vuol veder, convien che prima mora
You know that I know, my lord, that you know I have come to take pleasure in your presence; and you know that I know that you know I am constant. Why then do we hesitate to greet one another? If it is true, this hope that you give me, if these desires are true which come over me, break down the wall between one and the other; hidden sorrows have twice the force. If I love only in you, my dear lord, that which you love most, do not be angry; let love spring up between our two souls. That which in your noble face I seek is but ill-understood by humankind, and he who wishes to see it must first die.
XXXVIII. Rendete agli occhi miei
Give back to my eyes
Rendete agli occhi miei, o fonte o fiume, L’onde della non vostra e salda vena. Che più v’innalza, e cresce, e con più lena Che non è ‘l vostro natural costume. E tu, folt’air, che ‘l celeste lume Tempri a’ tristi occhi, de’ sospir miei piena, Rendigli al cor mio lasso e rasserena Tua scura faccia al mio visivo acume. Renda la terra i passi alle mie piante, Ch’ancor l’erba germogli che gli è tolta; E ‘l suono Ecco, già sorda a’ miei lamenti;
Give back to my eyes, o fountains and rivers, the waves of powerful currents that are not yours, which swell you and surge with such force than was ever in your nature. And you, dense air, heaven’s light obscuring from my sad eyes, full of sighs, give them back to my weary heart, and lighten your dark features to my sight. Let the earth return to me the traces of my steps, that the grass may grow where it was crushed; give back the sounds, Echo, yet deaf to my laments; their glances back to my eyes, you blessed pupils, that I may sometime love some other beauty since with me you are not satisfied.
Gli sguardi agli occhi mie, tue luci sante, Ch’io possa altra bellezza un’altra volta Amar, po’ che di me non ti contenti.
Texts & Translations
XXXII. S’un casto amor
If there is a chaste love
S’un casto amor, s’una pietà superna, S’una fortuna infra dua amanti equale, S’un’aspra sorte all’un dell’altro cale, S’un spirto, s’un voler duo cor governa; S’un’anima in duo corpi è fatta etterna, Ambo levando al cielo e con pari ale; S’amor c’un colpo e d’un dorato strale Le viscer di duo petti arda e discerna; S’amar l’un l’altro, e nessun se medesmo, D’un gusto e d’un diletto, a tal mercede, C’a un fin voglia l’uno e l’altro porre; Se mille e mille non sarien centesmo A tal nodo d’amore, a tanta fede; E sol l’isdegno il può rompere e sciorre.
If there is a chaste love, a heavenly pity, an equal fortune between two lovers, a bitter fate shared by both, and if a single spirit and one will governs two hearts; if one soul in two bodies is made eternal, raising both to heaven on the same wings; if love with one blow and one golden arrow can burn and pierce two hearts to the core; if each loves the other rather than himself, with a pleasure and delight so rewarding, that to the same end they both strive; if thousands upon thousands are not worth a hundredth part of such a loving bond of such a faith; then shall anger alone break and dissolve it?
XXIV. Spirto ben nato
Noble spirit
Spirto ben nato, in cui si specchia e vede Nelle tuo belle membra oneste e care Quante natura e ‘l ciel tra no’ puo’ fare,
Noble spirit, in whom is reflected, and in whose beautiful limbs, honest and dear, one can see all that nature and heaven can achieve within us, excelling any other work of beauty; graceful spirit, within whom one hopes and beliefs dwell - as they outwardly appear in your face -
Quand’a null’altra suo bell’opra cede; Spirto leggiadro, in cui si spera e crede Dentro, come di fuor nel viso appare,
Amor, pietà, mercè, cose sì rare Che mà furn’in beltà con tanta fede; L’amor mi prende, e la beltà mi lega; La pietà, la mercè con dolci sguardi Ferma speranz’al cor par che ne doni. Qual uso o qual governo al mondo niega, Qual crudeltà per tempo, o qual più tardi, C’a sì bel viso morte non perdoni?
Love, pity, mercy, things so rare and never found in beauty so truly; love takes me captive, and beauty binds me; pity and mercy with sweet glances fill my heart with strong hope. What law or power in the world, what cruelty of this time or of a time to come, could keep Death from sparing such a lovely face?
Texts & Translations
joseph marx Nachtgebet Text by E. H. Hess O sähst du mich jetzt beten zu deinen heilig tiefen Augen, die fragend zu mir flehten wie nach Liebe; du schlössest deine tiefen Augen, daß ich nicht drein vergehe, wie in Liebe. O sähst du wie ich bete zu deiner kinderfrohen Seele, es schwiege deine Kinderseele, daß sie nicht untergehe in meiner Liebe.
Oh, if you could see me worship now your sacred deep eyes, who beseechingly question me as if for love; you would close your deep eyes, so that I wouldn’t drown in your love. Oh, if you could see me worship now your innocent soul, your innocent soul would remain silent so that it wouldn’t drown In my love.
joseph marx Nocturne Text by Otto Erich Hartleben Süß duftende Lindenblüthe in quellender Juninacht. Eine Wonne aus meinem Gemüthe ist mir in Sinnen erwacht.
Sweetly fragrant linden blossom In the burgeoning June night. A rapture from within my soul Has awakened in my senses.
Als klänge vor meinen Ohren leise das Lied vom Glück, als töne, die lange verloren, die Jugend leise zurück.
As if, quietly sounding, I heard The song of happiness, As if my long-lost youth Were echoing back to me.
Süß duftende Lindenblüthe in quellender Juninacht. Eine Wonne aus meinem Gemüthe ist mir zu Schmerzen erwacht.
Sweetly fragrant linden blossom In the burgeoning June night. A rapture from within my soul Has, to my pain, awakened.
Texts & Translations
joseph marx Selige Nacht Text by Otto Erich Hartleben Im Arm der Liebe schliefen wir selig ein, Am offnen Fenster lauschte der Sommerwind, Und unsrer Atemzüge Frieden Trug er hinaus in die helle Mondnacht. --
In the arms of love we fell blissfully asleep; at the open window the summer wind listened and carried the peacefulness of our breath out into the bright, moonlit night.
Und aus dem Garten tastete zagend sich Ein Rosenduft an unserer Liebe Bett Und gab uns wundervolle Träume, Träume des Rausches -- so reich an Sehnsucht!
And out of the garden, feeling its way randomly, the scent of roses came to our bed of love and gave us wonderful dreams, dreams of intoxication, rich with yearning.
joseph marx Valse de Chopin Text from “Pierrot Lunaire” by Albert Giraud translation by Otto Erich Hartleben Wie ein blasser Tropfen Bluts Färbt die Lippen einer Kranken, Also ruht auf diesen Tönen Ein vernichtungssüchtger Reiz.
As a bleached drop of blood Stains a sufferer’s lips, So lurks within this music The lure of annihilation.
Wilder Lust Accorde stören Der Verzweiflung eisgen Traum Wie ein blasser Tropfen Bluts Färbt die Lippen einer Kranken.
In untamed strains the chords disorder Despair’s icy dreamAs a bleached drop of blood Stains a sufferer’s lips.
Heiß und jauchzend, süß und schmachtend, Melancholisch düstrer Walzer, Kommst mir nimmer aus den Sinnen! Haftest mir an den Gedanken, Wie ein blasser Tropfen Bluts!
Fierce, exulting, sweet, and yearning, Melancholy dismal waltzes, You cling to my consciousness, You are borne on my thoughts Like a bleached drop of blood.
Texts & Translations
joseph marx Pierrot Dandy Text from “Pierrot Lunaire” by Albert Giraud translation by Otto Erich Hartleben Im phantast’schen Mondenstrahle blitzen Fläschchen und Krystalle, Vor dem Waschtisch schmückt der fahle Pierrot Dandy sich zum Balle.
With a ghostly light ray The moon illumines the crystal flasks Upon the dark altar-the holy Washbasin Of the taciturn Dandy from Bergamo.
Wasserstrahl in seiner Schale klirrt gleich singendem Metalle. Im phantast’schen Mondenstrahle blitzen Fläschchen und Krystalle.
In the resonant bronze basin The fountains laugh a metallic clangor. With a ghostly light ray The moon illumines the crystal flasks.
Pierrot, statt daß auf die schmale bleiche Lippe er das dralle Rot des frischen Lebens male, schminkt sich, daß er ihr gefalle, mit phantast’schem Mondenstrahle.
Pierrot with waxen complexion stands deep in thought: What makeup for today? He shoves aside the red and oriental green And paints his face in sublime style With a ghostly light ray.
john kander A letter from Sullivan Ballou Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the first Battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861. Born March 28, 1829 , when he died, his wife was 24. She later moved to New Jersey to live out her life with her son, William, and never re-married. She died at age 80 in 1917. Ironically, Sullivan Ballou’s letter was never mailed. Although Sarah would receive other, decidedly more upbeat letters, dated after the now-famous letter from the battlefield, the letter in question would be found among Sullivan Ballou’s effects when Gov. William Sprague of Rhode Island traveled to Virginia to retrieve the remains of his state’s sons who had fallen in battle. July 14, 1861 Camp Clark, Washington My very dear Sarah: The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more . . . I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans on the triumph of the Government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through
Texts & Translations
the blood and sufferings of the Revolution. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt . . . Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field. The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them for so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness . . . But, oh Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights . . . always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again . . .”
joaquín turina Poema en forma de cancion Text by R. De Campoamor
I. Dedicatoria piano solo
(continued)
Texts & Translations
II. Nunca olvida
Never forgets
Ya que este mundo abandono antes de dar cuenta a Dios, aquí para entre los dos mi confesión te diré. Con toda el alma perdono hasta a los que siempre he odiado. A ti que tanto te he amado nunca te perdonaré!
Since I am leaving this world, and before I give my account to the lord, I will confess to you, here, between the two of us. With all my soul I forgive those whom I have always hated. You, whom I have deeply loved, I will never forgive!
III. Cantares
Songs
Màs cerca de mí te siento Cuando más huyo de tí Pues tu imagen es en mí Sombra de mi pensamiento.
Flee as I may your embraces, closer forever I’m caught; my ev’ry dream, ev’ry thought your haunting vision retraces.
Vuélvemelo a decir Pues embelesado ayer Te escuchaba sin oir Y te miraba sin ver.
Speak more to me, for yesterday, as I was enraptured, I listened to you without bearing, I looked at you without seeing.
IV. Los dos miedos
The Two Fears
Al comenzar la noche de aquel día Ella lejos de mí, ¿Por qué te acercas tanto? Me decía, Tengo miedo de ti.
With the onset of that night, she, remote from me, said: Why do you come so close to me? I am afraid of you.
Y después que la noche hubo pasado Dijo, cerca de mí: ¿Por qué te alejas tanto de mi lado? ¡Tengo miedo sin ti!
And after the night had passed, she, close to me, said: Why do you move away from me? I am afraid without you!
Texts & Translations
V. Las locas por amor
The extremes of love
Te amaré diosa Venus si prefieres que te amé mucho tiempo y con cordura y respondió la diosa de Citeres: Prefiero como todas las mujeres que me amen poco tiempo y con locura. Te amaré diosa Venus, te amaré.
I will love you, Divine Venus, if you desire that I love you eternally and with discretion. The goddess of Cythera replied to me: I prefer, as all women do, that you love me for a short time and passionately. I will love you, Divine Venus, I will love you.
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Robert Blocker, Dean