Senior Recital
Saturday
April 9, 2011, 6:30 pm
Kulas Recital Hall
Concert No. 252
Mary Beth Bulen, soprano
Ann Schaefer, piano
Lusinghe piu care, from Alessandro (Rolli)
La courte paille (Carême)
I.
Le sommeil
II.
Quelle aventure!
III.
La reine de couer
IV.
Ba, Be, Bi, Bo, Bu
V.
Les anges musiciens
VI.
Le carafon
VII.
Lune d’Avril
George Frideric Handel
(1685–1759)
Francis Poulenc
(1899–1963)
From the Italienisches Liederbuch (Heyse)
I.
Auch kleine Dinge können uns entzücken
XL.
O wär’ dein Haus durchsichtig wie ein Glas
X.
Du denkst mit einem Fädchen mich zu fangen
VI.
Wer rief dich denn? Wer hat dich herbestellt?
XXV. Mein Liebster hat zu Tische mich geladen
XV. Mein Liebster ist so klein, dass ohne Bücken
XLV. Verschling’ der Abgrund meines Liebsten Hütte
VIII. Nun lass uns Frieden schliessen, liebstes Leben
Hugo Wolf
(1860–1903)
Ann Schaefer, piano
Intermission
Der Hirt auf dem Felsen (Müller)
Matthew Viola, clarinet
Re Zhang, piano
Franz Schubert
(1797–1828)
Cowboy Songs (Starr)
Bucking Bronco
Cowpuncher’s Prayer
Billy the Kid
Libby Larsen
(b. 1950)
Please silence all cell phones and refrain from the use of video cameras
unless prior arrangements have been made with the performers.
The use of flash cameras is prohibited. Thank you.
Translations
Lusinghe piu care
Sweetest flattery,
True sign of love,
You fly about prettily,
There on the lips in glances,
And you steal completely
One’s freedom
Jealous suspicions,
Painful delights,
Between joy and sorrow
There are moments of hope,
You are the weapon of transient happiness.
I. Le sommeil
Sleep is on a journey,
My God where has it gone?
I have rocked my little one in vain;
He cried in his crib, he has cried since mid-day.
Where has sleep put its sand and its wise dreams?
I have rocked my little one in vain;
He himself turns into sweat, he sobs in his bed.
Ah! Return, return sleep, on your fine race horse!
In the sky black the Great bear has buried the sun
And rekindles his bees.
If the child does not sleep well, he will not say “good day,”
He will say nothing tomorrow
To the fingers, to the milk, to the bread that greet him in the daylight.
II. Quelle aventure
A flee in its carriage was pulling a little elephant
They looked in the shop windows where diamonds sparkled.
My God! My God! What an adventure!
Who will believe me, if they hear me?
The little elephant with a casual air licked a jar of jam.
But the flea didn’t have a care,
She pulled in a smile.
My God! My God!
How hard this is, and I think I must be crazy!
Suddenly long from a fence, the flea flew over in the wind
And I saw the young elephant save him by knocking down the walls.
My God! My God!
The thing is true, but how can I tell my mommy?
III. La reine de couer
Soflty leaning on her windowpanes of moon,
The queen to you gestures
With a flower of almond.
Handel
Poulenc
She is the queen of hearts.
She can, if she wishes,
Take you in secret toward strange dwellings
Where there are no more doors, rooms, nor towers
And where the young dead come to talk of love.
The queen salutes you;
Hasten to follow her
In her house of hoar-frost
With sweet windows of moon.
IV. Ba, Be, Bi, Bo, Bu
Ba be bi bo bu bé!
The cat has put on his boots,
He goes from door to door
Playing, dancing, singing.
Poo, cabbage, knee, owl.
“You ought to learn to read,
to count to write,”
They shriek at him from all sides.
But “rikketikketau,”
The cat bursts out laughing
Returning to his house:
He is the Puss in boots!
V. Les anges musiciens
Upon the threads of rain,
The angels from Thursday play for a long time on a harp.
And beneath their fingers,
Mozart tinkles deliciously,
In drops of joy blue
Since it’s always Mozart which is played without end
The angel musicians who, all long from Thursday,
Sing from the harp the sweetness of rain.
VI. Le carafon
“Why” lamented the carafe, “couldn’t I have a baby carafe?
At the zoo, Mrs. Giraffe does she not have a baby giraffe?”
A wizard who was riding by there,
Astride a phonograph
Recorded a beautiful soprano voice of the carafe
And played it for Merlin.
“Very well,” said the one, “very well”!
He clapped three times with his hands
And the lady of the house asks herself again why
She found that morning a pretty little baby carafe
All snuggled against the carafe
Just as in the zoo,
The baby giraffe leans its long and fragile neck
On the smooth flank of the giraffe.
VII. Lune d’Avril
Moon, beautiful moon, moon of April
Make me see in my dreams
The peach tree with a heart of saffron,
The fish that laughs at sleet,
The bird who, far away like a horn sweetly wakens the dead
And above all, the country
Where there is joy,
Where there it is clear,
Where, sunny with springtime, they have broken all the rifles
Moon, beautiful moon, moon of April, moon.
I. Auch kleine Dinge können uns entzücken
Even little things can delight us,
Even little things can be precious.
Think how we gladly adorn ourselves with pearls;
They are heavily paid for, and yet are small.
Think how small is the olive's fruit,
And is nevertheless sought for its virtue.
Think only on the rose, how small she is,
And yet, smells so sweet, as you know.
XL. O wär’ dein Haus durchsichtig wie ein Glas
Oh, were your house transparent as glass,
My darling, when I steal by!
Then I would see you inside without ceasing,
How I would look at you with my whole soul!
How many glances would my heart send to you,
More than there are drops in the river in March!
How many looks would I send towards you,
More than the drops that fall in the rain!
X. Du denkst mit einem Fädchen mich zu fangen
You think that, with a tiny string, you can catch me,
With one glance, you can make me fall in love?
I've caught others already who soared higher;
You mustn't trust me when you see me laugh.
I've caught others already, believe you me.
I am in love - but just not with you!
VI. Wer rief dich denn? Wer hat dich herbestellt?
Who called you, then? Who sent for you?
Who bade you to come if it is such a burden for you?
Go to the sweetheart who pleases you more,
Go there, where your thoughts are.
Go where your brooding is, and your mind!
I will gladly excuse you from coming to me.
Go to the sweetheart who pleases you more!
Who called you, then? Who sent for you?
XXV. Mein Liebster hat zu Tische mich geladen
My sweetheart invited me to dinner
Wolf
And yet had no house in which to receive me,
No wood nor hearth to do the cooking or roasting;
The pot had even long since been broken in two.
No wine-cask was there either,
And no glasses did he have in use;
The table was narrow, the tablecloth no better,
The bread stone-hard, and the knife totally blunt!
XV. Mein Liebster ist so klein, dass ohne Bücken
My sweetheart is so small, that without stooping
He sweeps the floor for me with his locks.
When he went into the little garden to pick jasmine,
He was very frightened by a snail.
Then he went into the house to catch his breath,
And a fly knocked him over in a heap;
And when he stepped up to my little window,
A horsefly knocked him in his skull.
Cursed be all flies, gnats, and horseflies And all who have a tiny sweetheart from Maremma!
Cursed be all flies, gnats, and midges And all who must stoop so low for a kiss!
XLV. Verschling’ der Abgrund meines Liebsten Hütte
Let my lover's house be engulfed by the abyss,
And a lake foam over the place this very hour.
Let the heavens pour lead bullets over it,
And a serpent dwell there in the ground.
Let a poisonous serpent dwell there,
That would poison he who was untrue to me.
Let a serpent dwell there, swollen with venom,
And bring death to him who means to betray me!
VIII. Nun lass uns Frieden schliessen, liebstes Leben
Now let us make peace, dearest life.
It has been too long that we have feuded.
If you are unwilling, I will yield to you;
How could we wage war to the death?
Kings and princes make peace,
And should not lovers crave it?
Princes and soldiers make peace Should two who are in love fail to do likewise?
Do you think that what such great men succeed in,
A pair of contented hearts shall not accomplish?
Der Hirt auf dem Felsen
When, from the highest rock up here,
Down to the valley deep I peer,
Schubert
And sing,
Far from the valley dark and deep
Echoes rush through, in upward sweep,
The chasm.
The farther that my voice resounds,
So much the brighter it rebounds
From under.
My sweetheart dwells so far from me,
I hotly long with her to be
O'er yonder.