Nicole Andrea Percifeld, soprano

nicole andrea percifeld soprano

artist diploma degree recital March 28, 2014 • Morse Recital Hall

Robert Blocker, Dean

Artist Diploma Degree Recital

nicole andrea percifield soprano Douglas Dickson, piano Friday, March 28, 2014 • 2:00 pm •Morse Recital Hall

Franz Joseph Haydn Scena di Berenice 1732–1809 Claude Debussy 1862–1918

Pietro Metastasio

Cinq Poèmes de Baudelaire I. Le balcon II. Harmonie du soir III. Le jet d’eau IV. Recueillement V. La mort des amants

Charles Baudelaire

intermission Edvard Grieg 1843–1907

Sechs Lieder, Op. 48 I. Gruß II. Dereinst, Gedanke mein III. Lauf der Welt IV. Die verschwiegene Nachtigall V. Zur Rosenzeit VI. Ein Traum

Heinrich Heine Emanuel Geibel Ludwig Uhland Walther von der Vogelweide Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Friedrich Bodenstedt

William Walton 1902–1983

A Song for the Lord Mayor’s Table I. The Lord Mayor’s Table II. Glide Gently III. Wapping Old Stairs IV. Holy Thursday V. The Contrast VI. Rhyme

Thomas Jordan William Wordsworth Anonymous William Blake Charles Morris Anonymous

This performance is in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Artist Diploma.

Texts & Translations

franz joseph haydn Scena di Berenice Text by Pietro Metastasio Recitativo Berenice, che fai? Muore il tuo bene, stupida, e tu non corri?

Oh Dio! Vacilla l’incerto passo; un gelido mi scuote insolito tremor tutte le vene, e a gran pena il suo peso il piè sostiene.

Berenice, what are you doing? Your beloved is dying.

I’m dazed. Why do I not run to him?

Oh God! My steps are faltering; A strange, icy shudder is running through my veins.

My legs barely support me.

Dove son? Qual confusa folla d’idee tutte funeste adombra la mia ragion?

Veggo Demetrio: il veggo che in atto di ferir...

Fermati! Vivi!

D’Antigono io sarò. Del core ad onta volo a giurargli fè: dirò che l’amo; dirò...

Where am I? What mad crowd of dark thoughts are clouding my mind?

I see Demetrio: I see him in the act of striking...

Stop! Live!

I shall marry Antigonus. Despite the feelings of my heart I fly to him to swear fidelity: I will say I love him; I will say…

Misera me, s’oscura il giorno, balena il ciel! L’hanno irritato i miei meditati spergiuri. Ahimè!

Lasciate ch’io soccorra il mio ben, barbari Dei. Voi m’impedite, e intanto forse un colpo improvviso...

Ah, sarete contenti; eccolo ucciso.

Woe is me, dark grows the day, flashes the sky! I’ve angered it with my intended deception. Alas!

Let me help my beloved, cruel gods!

While you are preventing me, perhaps a sudden blow…

Ah, you will be pleased; here he is dead.

Aspetta, anima bella: ombre compagne a Lete andrem. Se non potei salvarti potrò fedel... Ma tu mi guardi, e parti?

Wait, fair soul: as ghostly companions let us go to the underworld. Though I couldn’t save you I can still be faithful… But you look at me and leave?

Aria Non partir, bell’idol mio: per quell’onda all’altra sponda voglio anch’io passar con te.

Do not leave, my love: across the waves, to the other shore, I want to go with you.

Recitativo Me infelice! Che fingo? Che ragiono?

Dove rapita sono dal torrente crudele’ miei martiri?

Misera Berenice, ah, tu deliri!

What misery! What am I imagining? What thinking?

Where are my terrible sorrows leading me?

Poor Berenice, ah, you are delirious!

Texts & Translations

Aria Perchè se tanti siete, che delirar mi fate, perchè non m’uccidete, affanni del mio cor?

Why, if you are so numerous that you drive me insane, why don’t you kill me torments of my heart?

Crescete, oh Dio, crescete finchè mi porga aita con togliermi di vita l’eccesso del dolor.

Increase, oh God, increase the anguish in my heart, until the excess of sorrow brings me the relief of death.

claude debussy Cinq Poèmes de Baudelaire Text by Charles Baudelaire 1. Le balcon

The Balcony

Mère des souvenirs, maîtresse des maîtresses, Ô toi, tous mes plaisirs! Ô toi, tous mes devoirs!

Tu te rappelleras la beauté des caresses, La douceur du foyer et le charme des soirs, Mère des souvenirs, maîtresse des maîtresses.

Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses, O you, all my pleasure! O you, all my duties!

You will remember the beauty of our caresses, The sweetness of the hearth, the charm of the evenings, Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses.

Les soirs illuminés par l’ardeur du charbon, Et les soirs au balcon, voilés de vapeur rose.

Que ton sein m’était doux! Que ton cœur m’était bon!

Nous avons dit souvent d’impérissables choses Les soirs illuminés par l’ardeur du charbon.

Evenings lit with the glow of coals, And evenings on the balcony, veiled with pink mist, How soft your breast was, how warm your heart!

We often said imperishable things On evenings lit with the glow of coals.

Que les soleils sont beaux par les chaudes soirées!

Que l’espace est profond! Que le coeur est puissant!

En me penchant vers toi, reine des adorées, Je croyais respirer le parfum de ton sang.

Que les soleils sont beaux par les chaudes soirées!

How the sun is beautiful on warm evenings!

How deep is space! How strong the heart!

As I leant over you, queen of the adored, I thought I was breathing the fragrance of your blood.

How the sun is beautiful on warm evenings!

La nuit s’épaississait ainsi qu’une cloison, Et mes yeux dans le noir devinaient tes prunelles, Et je buvais ton souffle. Ô douceur, ô poison!

Et tes pieds s’endormaient dans mes mains fraternelles, La nuit s’épaississait ainsi qu’une cloison.

Night would thicken like a wall around us, And my eyes in the dark would make out your own, And I would drink your breath, oh sweetness, oh poison!

And your feet would fall asleep in my fraternal hands.

Night would thicken like a wall around us.

Texts & Translations

Je sais l’art d’évoquer les minutes heureuses, Et revis mon passé blotti dans tes genoux.

Car à quoi bon chercher tes beautés langoureuses Ailleurs qu’en ton cher corps et qu’en ton cœur si doux?

Je sais l’art d’évoquer les minutes heureuses!

I know the art of evoking moments of happiness, And relive my past, nestling my head in your lap.

For why would I seek your languid beauties anywhere But in your dear body and your gentle heart?

I know the art of evoking moments of happiness,

Ces serments, ces parfums, ces baisers infinis.

Renaîtront-ils d’un gouffre interdit à nos sondes Comme montent au ciel les soleils rajeunis Après s’être lavés au fond des mers profondes O serments! Ô parfums! Ô baisers infinis!

These vows, these perfumes, these infinite kisses, Will they be reborn from a chasm deeper than we can fathom, As the rejuvenated suns ascend the sky, After cleansing themselves in the oceans’ depths?

Oh vows, oh perfumes, oh infinite kisses!

2. Harmonie du soir

Evening harmony

Voici venir les temps où vibrant sur sa tige, Chaque fleur s’évapore ainsi qu’un encensoir; Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir, Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige.

Here comes the time when, quivering on its stem, Each flower gives off fragrance like a censer; The sounds and perfumes circle in the evening air, Melancholy waltz and reeling languor!

Chaque fleur s’évapore ainsi qu’un encensoir, Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu’on afflige, Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige, Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir;

Each flower gives off fragrance like a censer; The violin throbs like a wounded heart, Melancholy waltz and reeling languor!

The sky is sad and beautiful like a vast altar.

Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu’on afflige, Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir!

Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir; Le soleil s’est noyé dans son sang qui se fige...

The violin throbs like a wounded heart, A tender heart, which hates the huge, dark void!

The sky is sad and beautiful like a vast altar; The sun has drowned in its congealing blood.

Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir, Du passé lumineux recueille tout vestige.

Le soleil s’est noyé dans son sang qui se fige, Ton souvenir en moi luit comme un ostensoir.

A tender heart, which hates the huge, dark void, And gathers every relic of the harmonious past!

The sun has drowned in its congealing blood, Your memory shines in me like a monstrance!

3. Le jet d’eau

The Fountain

Tes beaux yeux sont las, pauvre amante!

Reste longtemps, sans les rouvrir, Dans cette pose nonchalante Où t’a surprise le plaisir.

Dans la cour le jet d’eau qui jase

Your beautiful eyes are tired, poor lover!

Rest awhile, without opening them, In that careless pose Where pleasure surprised you.

In the courtyard the babbling fountain,

Texts & Translations

Et ne se tait ni nuit ni jour, Entretient doucement l’extase Où ce soir m’a plongé l’amour.

La gerbe d’eau qui berce Ses mille fleurs, Que la lune traverse De ses pâleurs, Tombe comme une averse De larges pleurs.

Never silent night or day, Gently prolongs the ecstasy Where love plunged me this evening.

The sheaf of water swaying Its thousand flowers, Through which the moon Shines its pallid rays, Falls like a shower Of great tears.

Ainsi ton âme qu’incendie L’éclair brûlant des voluptés S’élance, rapide et hardie, Vers les vastes cieux enchantés.

Puis, elle s’épanche, mourante, En un flot de triste langueur, Qui par une invisible pente Descend jusqu’au fond de mon coeur.

And so your soul, set ablaze By the burning flash of ecstasy, Leaps up, rapid and bold, Towards the vast enchanted skies.

And then, dying, it spills over In a wave of sad languor Down an invisible slope Into the depths of my heart.

Ô toi, que la nuit rend si belle, Qu’il m’est doux, penché vers tes seins, D’écouter la plainte éternelle Qui sanglote dans les bassins!

Lune, eau sonore, nuit bénie, Arbres qui frissonnez autour, Votre pure mélancolie Est le miroir de mon amour.

Oh you, whom night makes so beautiful, I find it sweet, as I lean over your breasts, To listen to the eternal lament That sobs in the fountain’s basin!

Oh moon, sounds of water, blessed night, Trees trembling all around, Your pure melancholy Is the mirror of my love.

4. Recueillement

Meditation

Sois sage, ô ma Douleur, et tiens-toi plus tranquille; Tu réclamais le Soir: il descend, le voici: Une atmosphère obscure enveloppe la ville, Aux uns portant la paix, aux autres le souci.

Be wise, oh my Sorrow, and keep more calm.

You called for Evening - it is falling, it is here.

A dusky atmosphere envelops the town, Bringing peace to some, and worry to others.

Pendant que des mortels la multitude vile, Sous le fouet du Plaisir, ce bourreau sans merci, Va cueillir des remords dans la fête servile, Ma Douleur, donne-moi la main; viens par ici,

While the vile multitude of mortals, Under the whip of Pleasure, that merciless tormentor, Goes to reap remorse from slavish parties, My Sorrow, give me your hand, come this way,

Texts & Translations

Loin d’eux. Vois se pencher les défuntes Années, Sur les balcons du ciel, en robes surannées.

Surgir du fond des eaux le Regret souriant;

Far from them. See the departed Years leaning At the sky’s balconies, in outmoded dress, Surging from the river’s depths, Regret smiling,

Le Soleil moribond s’endormir sous une arche; Et, comme un long linceul traînant à l’Orient, Entends, ma chère, entends la douce Nuit qui arche.

The dying Sun falling asleep under an arch.

And, like a long shroud trailing in from the East, Listen, my dear, listen to the gentle Night approaching.

5. La mort des amants

The death of lovers

Nous aurons des lits pleins d’odeurs légères, Des divans profonds comme des tombeaux, Et d’étranges fleurs sur des étagères, Écloses pour nous sous des cieux plus beaux.

We will have beds filled with light perfumes, Divans as deep as tombs, And displays of exotic flowers That bloomed for us under fairer skies.

Usant à l’envi leurs chaleurs dernières, Nos deux coeurs seront deux vastes flambeaux, Qui réfléchiront leurs doubles lumières Dans nos deux esprits, ces miroirs jumeaux.

Vying to outdo their most recent passions Our two hearts will be two vast torches That reflect their double light In our two souls, the twin mirrors.

Un soir fait de rose et de bleu mystique, Nous échangerons un éclair unique, Comme un long sanglot tout chargé d’adieux;

On an evening that is all mystic blue and pink We will exchange a single radiant glance, Like a long sob laden with farewells;

Et plus tard un ange, entr’ouvrant les portes, Viendra ranimer, fidèle et joyeux, Les miroirs ternis et les flammes mortes.

And later an angel, nudging open the doors, Will come, faithful and joyous, to revive The tarnished mirrors and dead flames.

edvard grieg Sechs Lieder, Op. 48 1. Gruß Text by Heinrich Heine

Greeting

Leise zieht durch mein Gemüt Liebliches Geläute, Klinge, kleines Frühlingslied, Kling hinaus ins Weite.

Gently moves through my spirit A lovely pealing sound; Ring out, little spring song, Ring out into the distance.

Zieh’ hinaus bis an das Haus, Wo die Vielchen sprießen, Wenn du eine Rose schaust, Sag, ich laß sie grüßen.

Go out, up to the house, Where the violets bud; If you see a rose, Say, I send her my greeting.

Texts & Translations

2. Dereinst, Gedanke mein Texts by Emanuel Geibel

One day, my thought

Dereinst, Gedanke mein, Wirst ruhig sein.

Läßt Liebesglut Dich still nicht werden, In kühler Erden, Da schläfst du gut, Dort ohne Lieb’ und ohne Pein Wirst ruhig sein.

One day, my thought, You will be at peace.

If love’s passion Will not let you rest, In the cool earth, There, you will sleep soundly.

There without love or pain You will be at peace.

Was du im Leben Nicht hast gefunden, Wenn es entschwunden, Wird’s dir gegeben, Dann ohne Wunden Und ohne Pein Wirst ruhig sein.

What in life You did not find, When it has vanished, will be given to you; Then without wounds And without pain You will be at peace.

3. Lauf der Welt Text by Ludwig Uhland

The Way of the World

An jedem Abend geh’ ich aus Hinauf den Wiesensteg.

Sie schaut aus ihrem Gartenhaus, Es stehet hart am Weg. Wir haben uns noch nie bestellt, Es ist nur so der Lauf der Welt.

Each evening I go out, Up the meadow-path.

She looks out from her summerhouse, Which stands just by the pathway.

We have never yet introduced ourselves – That is just the way of the world.

Ich weiß nicht, wie es so geschah, Seit lange küss’ ich sie, Ich bitte nicht, sie sagt nicht: ja!

Doch sagt sie: nein! auch nie.

Wenn Lippe gern auf Lippe ruht, Wir hindern’s nicht, uns dünkt es gut.

I do not know how it happened, But for a long time I’ve been kissing her, I do not ask, she does not say yes, But neither does she ever say no.

If lips like to rest on lips, We do not prevent it, it seems good to us.

Das Lüftchen mit der Rose spielt, Es fragt nicht: hast mich lieb?

Das Röschen sich am Taue kühlt, Es sagt nicht lange: gib!

Ich liebe sie, sie liebet mich, Doch keines sagt: ich liebe dich!

The breeze plays with the rose, It does not ask, “Do you love me?”

The little rose cools itself in the dew, It does not say, “Give!”

I love her, she loves me, But neither one says, “I love you!”

Texts & Translations

4. Die verschwiegene Nachtigall Text by Walther von der Vogelweide

The Secretive Nightingale

Unter den Linden, An der Haide, Wo ich mit meinem Trauten saß, Da mögt ihr finden, Wie wir beide Die Blumen brachen und das Gras.

Vor dem Wald mit süßem Schall, Tandaradei!

Sang im Thal die Nachtigall.

Under the lindens On the heath Where I sat with my beloved, There you might find, How we two Broke the flowers and the grass.

From the wood with a sweet sound, Tandaradei!

The nightingale sang in the valley.

Ich kam gegangen Zu der Aue, Mein Liebster kam vor mir dahin.

Ich ward empfangen, Als hehre Fraue, Daß ich noch immer selig bin.

Ob er mir auch Küsse bot?

Tandaradei!

Seht, wie ist mein Mund so roth!

I came walking To the meadow, My beloved had arrived before me.

I was received Like a noble lady, And so I shall always be happy.

Did he offer me kisses?

Tandaradei!

See how red my mouth is!

Wie ich da ruhte, Wüßt’ es Einer, Behüte Gott, ich schämte mich.

Wie mich der Gute Herzte, Keiner Erfahre das als er und ich.

Und ein kleines Vögelein, Tandaradei!

Das wird wohl verschwiegen sein.

How I rested there, If anyone should know, God forbid, I would be ashamed.

How my darling embraced me, No one may know, But he and I; And a little bird, Tandaradei!

Who will certainly keep a secret.

5. Zur Rosenzeit Text by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Time of Roses

Ihr verblühet, süße Rosen, Meine Liebe trug euch nicht; Blühtet, ach! dem Hoffnungslosen, Dem der Gram die Seele bricht!

You are fading, sweet roses, My love could not sustain you.

Bloom for hopelessness then, Whose soul is breaking from sorrow!

Texts & Translations

Jener Tage denk’ ich trauernd, Als ich, Engel, an dir hing, Auf das erste Knöspchen lauernd Früh zu meinem Garten ging;

I think mournfully of those days, When I, angel, set my heart on you, And awaiting the first little bud, Went early to my garden;

Alle Blüten, alle Früchte Noch zu deinen Füßen trug Und vor deinem Angesichte Hoffnung in dem Herzen schlug.

All the blossoms, all the fruits I carried to your feet; And before your face, Hope was beating in my heart.

Ihr verblühet, süße Rosen, Meine Liebe trug euch nicht; Blühtet, ach! dem Hoffnungslosen, Dem der Gram die Seele bricht!

You are fading, sweet roses, My love could not sustain you.

Bloom for hopelessness then, Whose soul is breaking from sorrow!

6. Ein Traum Text by Friedrich von Bodenstedt

A Dream

Mir träumte einst ein schöner Traum: Mich liebte eine blonde Maid; Es war am grünen Waldesraum, Es war zur warmen Frühlingszeit:

I once dreamed a beautiful dream: A fair-haired young woman loved me, It was in the green forest glade, It was in the warm springtime:

Die Knospe sprang, der Waldbach schwoll, Fern aus dem Dorfe scholl Geläut Wir waren ganzer Wonne voll, Versunken ganz in Seligkeit.

The buds were blooming, the brook was swelling, From the distant village churchbells were chiming We were completely filled with joy, Engulfed in happiness.

Und schöner noch als einst der Traum Begab es sich in Wirklichkeit Es war am grünen Waldesraum, Es war zur warmen Frühlingszeit:

And more beautiful yet than the dream, It happened in reality: It was in a green forest glade It was in the warm springtime:

Der Waldbach schwoll, die Knospe sprang, Geläut erscholl vom Dorfe her Ich hielt dich fest, ich hielt dich lang Und lasse dich nun nimmermehr!

The brook was swelling, the buds were blooming, Churchbells were chiming from the village I held you tight, I held you long, And now will never again let you go!

O frühlingsgrüner Waldesraum!

Du lebst in mir durch alle Zeit Dort ward die Wirklichkeit zum Traum, Dort ward der Traum zur Wirklichkeit!

Oh spring-green forest glade, You will live in me for all time!

There reality became a dream, There the dream became reality!

Texts & Translations

william walton A Song for the Lord Mayor’s Table Text by Thomas Jordan 1. The Lord Mayor’s Table Let all the Nine Muses lay by their abuses, Their railing and drolling on tricks of the Strand, To pen us a ditty in praise of the City, Their treasure, and pleasure, their pow’r and command.

Their feast, and guest, so temptingly drest, Their kitchens all kingdoms replenish; In bountiful bowls they do succour their souls, With claret, Canary and Rhenish: Their lives and wives in plenitude thrives, They want not for meat nor money; The Promised Land’s in a Londoner’s hand, They wallow in milk and honey.

Let all the Nine Muses lay by their abuses, Their railing and drolling on tricks of the Strand To pen us a ditty in praise of the City, Their treasure, and pleasure, their pow’r and command.

2. Glide gently Text by William Wordsworth Glide gently, thus for ever, ever glide, O Thames! that other bards may see As lovely visions by thy side As now, fair river! come to me.

O glide, fair stream, for ever so, Thy quiet soul on all bestowing, Till all our minds for ever flow As thy deep waters now are flowing.

Texts & Translations

3. Wapping Old Stairs Anonymous Your Molly has never been false, she declares, Since last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs, When I swore that I still would continue the same, And gave you the ‘bacco box, marked with your name.

When I pass’d a whole fortnight between decks with you, Did I e’er give a kiss, Tom, to one of the crew?

To be useful and kind, with my Thomas I stay’d, For his trousers I wash’d, and his grog too I made.

Though you threaten’d, last Sunday, to walk in the Mall With Susan from Deptford, and likewise with Sal, In silence I stood your unkindness to hear, And only upbraided my Tom, with a tear.

Why should Sal, or should Susan, than me be more priz’d?

For the heart that is true, Tom, should ne’er be despis’d; Then be constant and kind, nor your Molly forsake, Still your trousers I’ll wash, and your grog too I’ll make.

4. Holy Thursday Text by William Blake ‘Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green: Gray-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow, Till into the high dome of St Paul’s they like Thames waters flow.

O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!

Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.

The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs, Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song, Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among; Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor: Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.

Texts & Translations

5. The contrast Text by Charles Morris In London I never knew what I’d be at, Enraptured with this, and enchanted by that, I’m wild with the sweets of variety’s plan, And life seems a blessing too happy for man.

But the country, Lord help me!, sets all matters right, So calm and composing from morning to night; Oh! it settles the spirit when nothing is seen But an ass on a common, a goose on a green.

Your magpies and stockdoves may flirt among trees, And chatter their transports in groves, if they please: But a house is much more to my taste than a tree, And for groves, O! a good grove of chimneys for me.

In the country, if Cupid should find a man out, The poor tortured victim mopes hopeless about, But in London, thank Heaven! our peace is secure, Where for one eye to kill, there’s a thousand to cure.

I know love’s a devil, too subtle to spy, That shoots through the soul, from the beam of an eye; But in London these devils so quick fly about, That a new devil still drives an old devil out.

Texts & Translations

6. Rhyme Anonymous Gay go up and gay go down, To ring the bells of London Town.

Oranges and lemons Say the bells of St. Clement’s.

Bull’s eyes and targets, Say the bells of St. Margaret’s.

Brickbats and tiles, Say the bells of St. Giles’.

Half-pence and farthings, Say the bells of St. Martin’s.

Pancakes and fritter’s, Say the bells of St. Peter’s.

Two sticks and an apple, Say the bells of Whitechapel.

Pokers and tongs, Say the bells of St. John’s.

Kettles and pans, Say the bells of St. Anne’s.

Old father baldpate, Say the slow bells of Aldgate.

You owe me ten shillings, Say the bells of St. Helen’s.

When will you pay me?

Say the bells of Old Bailey.

When I grow rich, Say the bells of Shoreditch.

Pray when will that be?

Say the bells of Stepney.

I do not know, Says the great bell of Bow. Gay go up and gay go down, To ring the bells of London Town.

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Robert Blocker, Dean