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Concert Translations

"Que fais-tu, blanche tourterelle"

Gounod

Lord, if of such a flower, you make a generous gift to my desire
I will present to you in exchange for such honor,
a bouquet of roses and hyacinths, picked from my own gardens.

 

You who are the most beautiful Dawn,
that shines in the Heaven of Love,
if the Dawn still blooms with roses,
do not disdain this small gift of flowers.

 

“Mai”

Faure

Since May, all in flowers in the meadows, claims us, Come!

Do not tire of mixing with your soul The countryside, the woods, the delightful shade, The broad moonlight at the edge of the sleeping waters, The path that ends where the road begins, And the air, the spring, and the immense horizon, The horizon that this world attaches, humble and joyful, Like a lip to the hem of Heaven's robe! Come! and let the gaze of the modest stars That falls on the earth through so many veils, Let the tree soaked in perfumes and songs, Let the scorching breath of midday in the fields, And the shade and the sun and the wave and the greenery, And the splendour of all of nature -- [Let] them make blossom, like a double flower, Beauty on your brow and love in your heart!

"Elle est gravement gaie"

Boulanger

She is solemnly gay.

Sometimes she looked up as if to see what I was thinking.

She was as soft as the yellow and blue velvet of a lane of pansies late at night.

"Barcarolle"

Offenbach

NICKLAUSSE
Lovely night, oh, night of love

Smile upon our joys!

Night much sweeter than the day

Oh beautiful night of love!

GIULIETTA, NICKLAUSSE

Time flies by, and carries away

Our tender caresses for ever!

Time flies far from this happy oasis

And does not return
 

Burning zephyrs

Embrace us with your caresses!

Burning zephyrs

Give us your kisses!

Your kisses! Your kisses! Ah!
 

Lovely night, oh, night of love

Smile upon our joys!

Night much sweeter than the day

Oh, beautiful night of love!

Ah! Smile upon our joys!

Night of love, oh, night of love!

Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!

"Im wunderschönen Monat Mai"

Schumann

In May, the magic month of May,
When all the buds were springing,
Into my heart the burning
Bright arrow of love came winging.

In May, the magic month of May,
When all the birds were singing,
I told her of my yearning,
My longing and heart-wringing.

"Aus meinen Tränen spriessen"

Schumann

From my tears there will spring
Many blossoming flowers,
And my sighs shall become
A chorus of nightingales.

And if you love me, child,
I’ll give you all the flowers,
And at your window shall sound
The nightingale’s song.

"Die Rose, die Lilie, die Taube, die Sonne"

Schumann

Rose, lily, dove, sun,
I loved them all once in the bliss of love.
I love them no more, I only love
She who is small, fine, pure, rare;
She, most blissful of all loves,
Is rose and lily and dove and sun.

"Wenn ich in deine Augen seh"

Schumann

When I look into your eyes,
All my pain and sorrow vanish;
But when I kiss your lips,
Then I am wholly healed.

When I lay my head against your breast,
Heavenly bliss steals over me;
But when you say: I love you!
I must weep bitter tears.

"Mai" 

Hahn

It is a month, dear exile,
Since you vanished from my gaze,
And I have watched the lilacs bloom
With my sorrow unassuaged.

Alone, I avoid these lovely clear skies,
Whose blazing rays disquiet me,
For an exile’s dread increases
With the splendour of nature’s renewal.

In vain the sun has smiled;
I close my door to the spring,
And wish only to be brought
A lilac branch in bloom!

For Love, which fills my heart to overflowing,
Finds among its sorrows
Your gaze in the midst of those dear flowers,
And in their fragrance your sweet breath!

"Nel Silenenzio di quei raccoglimenti"

Puccini

In the silence of those moments of contemplation,

my spirit seems to drift away and meet with that of your mother in ethereal,

mysterious converse!

How painful it is—how painful—

to hear the dead grieving and weeping!

When the mystical ecstasy fades,

I have reserved but a single word for you!

Atonement! Atonement!

Offer to the Virgin my justice!

"Senza Mamma"

Puccini

Without your mother, little one, you died!

Your lips, without my kisses, grew pale— cold, so cold!

And you closed, little one, your beautiful eyes! Unable to caress me,

you folded your little hands in a cross!

And you died without ever knowing

how much this mother of yours loved you!

Now that you are an angel in heaven,

now you can truly see your mother!

You can descend through the firmament and hover all around me...

I feel you... You are here... you are here... you kiss me...

you caress me. Ah! Tell me, when will I, too, be able to see you?

When will I be able to kiss you!...

Oh! Sweet end to all my sorrow! When in heaven may I rise to join you?...

When may I die? When may I die?...

Tell your mother, beautiful little soul,

with the gentle twinkling of a star...

speak to me, my love, my love!...

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