Senior Recital: Katie O`Brien, soprano

Ithaca College
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Concert & Recital Programs
12-1-2015
Senior Recital: Katie O'Brien, soprano
Katie O'Brien
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O'Brien, Katie, "Senior Recital: Katie O'Brien, soprano" (2015). All Concert & Recital Programs. Paper 1363.
http://digitalcommons.ithaca.edu/music_programs/1363
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Senior Recital:
Katie O'Brien, soprano
Amy Brinkman-Davis, piano and harpsichord Ford Hall
Tuesday, December 1st, 2015
9:00 pm
Program
Quando Voglio
from Giulio Cesare in Egitto Non Disperar
from Giulio Cesare in Egitto Antonio Sartorio
(1630-1680)
George Frideric Handel
(1685-1759)
Hans und Grete
Phantasie
Wer hat dies Liedlein erdacht?
Gustav Mahler
(1860-1911)
Chacun le sait
from La Fille du Régiment Gaetano Donizetti
(1797-1848)
Intermission
Trois Chansons
Nicolette
Trois beaux oiseaux du Paradis
Ronde (Roundelay)
June
#1
#2
Maurice Ravel
(1875-1937)
Melissa Dunphy
(1980)
This recital is in fulfillment of the degree Vocal Performance and Music
Education. Katie O'Brien is from the studio of Patrice Pastore.
Translations
Quando Voglio
Quando voglio, con un vezzo,
So piagar, chi mi rimira.
Ed al brio d'un mio disprezzo.
Ha un gran core chi non sospira.
Quando voglio, con un riso,
Saetar so, chi mi guarda. When I want, with a habit,
I give wounds to the people who
admire me
and the subject of my contempt
has a big heart who does not sigh.
When I want, with a laugh,
Whoever looks at me is struck with
an arrow
and when someone notices my
face,
there is no breast which does not
burn. Ed al noto del mio viso.
Non v'é seno che non arda. Non Disperar
Non disperar, chi sa?
Se al regno non l'avrai,
avrai sorte in amor.
Mirando una beltà,
in essa troverai a consolar un cor.
Do not despair. Who knows? Though you do not rule the
kingdom,
you shall have good fortune in love.
Looking upon your beauty, there you shall find a heart to
comfort.
Hans und Grete
Ringel, ringel Reih'n!
Wer fröhlich ist, der schlinge sich
ein!
Wer sorgen hat, der lass' sie
daheim!
Wer ein liebes Liebchen küßt,
Wie glücklich der ist!
Ei, Hanschen, du hast ja kein's!
So suche dir ein's!
Ein schönes Liebchen, das ist was
Fein's. Juchhe! Juchhe!
Ringel, ringel Reih'n!
Ei, Gretchen, was stehst denn so
allein?
Guckst doch hinüber zum
Hänselein!?
Und ist doch der Mai so grün?
Und die Lüftelein zieh'n!
Ei, seht doch den dummen Hans!
Wie er rennet zum Tanz!
Er suchte eine Liebchen, Juchhe! Er fand's! Juchhe!
Ringel, ringel Reih'n!
Ring around the rosy!
Whoever is merry, let him join in!
Whoever has cares, let him leave
them at home!
Whoever kisses a dear sweetheart,
how happy is he!
Oh, Hanschen you have none!
Then look for one!
A dear sweetheart is something
grand! High-ho! High-ho!
Ring around the rosy!
Oh, Gretchen, why do you stand so
alone?
Yet you are peeping over at
Hanselein!?
And May is so green?
And the breezes, they blow! Oh look at stupid Hans!
How he is running to the dance!
He searched for a sweetheart,
High-ho!
He found her! High-ho!
Ring around the rosy!
Phantasie
Das Mägdlein trat aus dem
Fischerhaus, Die Netze warf sie ins Meer hinaus!
Und wenn kein Fisch in das Netz ihr
ging,
Die Fischerin doch die Herzen fing!
Die Winde streifen so kühl
umher, Erzählen leis' eine alte Mär!
Die See erglühet im Abendrot,
Die Fischerin fühlt nicht Liebesnot
Im Herzen! Im Herzen!
The maiden came out of the fisher's
house, and nets she cast out into the sea!
And when no fish in her net was
caught,
the fishergirl then threw her heart!
The winds blow so coolly around,
telling softly an old tale!
The sea gleams in the sunset,
the fishergirl feels not love's sting
in her heart, in her heart!
Wer hat dies Liedlein erdacht?
Dort oben am Berg in dem hohen
Haus!
In dem Haus!
Da gucket ein fein's lieb's Mädel
heraus! Es ist nicht dort daheime,
Es ist des Wirts sein Töchterlein! Es wohnet auf grüner Heide.
Mein Herze ist wund!
Komm Schätzel mach's g'sund!
Dein' schwarzbraune Äuglein,
Die haben mich vertwundt!
Dein rosiger Mund
Macht Herzen gesund.
Macht Jugend verständig,
Macht Tote lebendig,
Macht Kranke gesund, ja, gesund!
Wer hat denn das schön schöne
Liedlein erdacht?
Es haben's drei Gäns übers Wasser
gebracht,
Zwei graue und eine weiße!
Und wer das Liedlein nicht singen
kann, Dem wollen sie es pfeifen! Ja!
Up there in the mountain in the
high house!
In the house!
There looks out a lovely dear!
She is not there at home,
She is the inn keeper's little
daughter!
She lives on the green meadow.
My heart is in pain!
Come, treasure, make it well!
Your dark-brown eyes,
they have me wounded!
Your rosy mouth
makes hearts healthy.
Makes youth wise,
makes the dead live,
makes the sick healthy, yes,
healthy!
Who has then this pretty little song
thought up?
It has brought three geese over the
water!
Two grays and one white one!
And whoever cannot sing the little
song,
For him they will whistle it! Yes!
Chacun le sait
Chacun le sait, chacun le dit, Le régiment par excellence Le seul à qui l'on fass' crédit Dans tous les cabarets de France.
Le régiment: en tous pays,
L'effroi des amants des maris.
Mais de la beauté bien suprême!
Il est là, il est là, il est là, morbleu!
Le voilà, le voilà, le voilà, corbleu!
Il est là, il est là, le voilà,
Le beau Vingt-et-unième!
Il a gagné tant de combats, Que notre empereur, on le pense, Fera chacun de ses soldats, A la paix, maréchal de France!
Car, c'est connu le régiment Le plus vainqueur, le plus
charmant, Qu'un sexe craint, et que l'autre
aime. Il est là, il est là, il est là, morbleu! Le voilà, le voilà, le voilà, corbleu! Il est là, il est là, le voilà,
Le beau Vingt-et-unième! Vive le Vingt-et-unième! Everyone knows it, everyone says
it,
The regiment above all The only one to which everyone
gives credit to In all the taverns of France.
The regiment: in all countries,
The terror of lovers of husbands.
But definitely superior to those of
beauty!
It is there, it is there, it is there, the
devil!
Over there, over there, over there,
good lord! It is there, it is there, there it is,
The handsome Twenty-first! It has won so many battles,
That our emperor, one thinks, Will make every one of our
soldiers, In the peace-time, Marshall of
France! For, it's known the regiment, The most victorious, the most
charming, Is feared by one sex and loved by
the other. It is there, it is there, it is there, the
devil!
Over there, over there, over there,
good lord! It is there, it is there, there it is,
The handsome Twenty-first! Long live the Twenty-first! Nicolette
Nicolette, à la vesprée, S'allait promener au pré, Cueillir la pâquerette, la jonquille et la muguet, Toute sautillante, toute guillerette,
Lorgnant ci, là de tous les côtés. Nicolette, at evening time,
Went for a walk through the fields, To pick daisies, daffodils, and lilies of the valley. Skipping around, completely jolly,
Glancing here, there, and
everywhere. Rencontra vieux loup grognant, Tout hérissé, l'œil brillant; "Hé là! ma Nicolette, viens tu pas chez Mère Grand?"
She met an old, growling wolf, Bristling-haired, sparkling-eyed; "Hey there! My Nicolette, won't you come to Grandmother's
A perte d'haleine, s'enfuit Nicolette,
Laissant là cornette et socques
blancs. Rencontra page joli, Chausses bleues et pourpoint gris; "Hé là! ma Nicolette, veux tu pas
d'un doux ami?"
Sage, s'en retourna, pauvre
Nicolette
très lentement, le cœur bien marri. Rencontra seigneur chenu, Tors, laid, puant et ventru; "Hé là! ma Nicolette, veux tu pas
tous ces écus?" Vite fut en ses bras, bonne
Nicolette Jamais au pré n'est plus revenue.
house?" Away till quite breathless, Nicolette
fled, Leaving behind her cap and white
clogs. She met a gentle page,
Blue shoes and gray doublet;
"Hey there! My Nicolette, wouldn't
you like a sweetheart?"
Wisely, she turned away, poor
Nicolette,
very slowly, her heart much
saddened. She met an old gentleman, Twisted, ugly, smelly and
pot-bellied; "Hey there! My Nicolette, don't you
want all this gold?" She ran straight into his arms, good
Nicolette, Never to return to the fields again.
Trois beaux oiseaux du Paradis
Trois beaux oiseaux du Paradis, (Mon ami z'il est à la guerre) Trois beaux oiseaux du Paradis Ont passé par ici. Le premier était plus bleu que ciel, (Mon ami z'il est à la guerre) Le second était couleur de neige, Le troisième rouge vermeil. "Beaux oiselets du Paradis, (Mon ami z'il est à la guerre) Beaux oiselets du Paradis, Qu'apportez par ici?" "J'apporte un regard couleur
d'azur. (Ton ami z'il est à la guerre)" "Et moi, sur beau front couleur de
neige, Un baiser dois mettre, encore plus
pur" "Oiseau vermeil du Paradis, (Mon ami z'il est à la guerre) Oiseau vermeil du Paradis, Que portez-vous ainsi?" "Un joli cœur tout cramoisi ... Three lovely birds from Paradise
(My belov'd is gone to war)
Three lovely birds from Paradise
Have passed by here.
The first was bluer than the sky
(My belov'd is gone to war)
The second the color of snow
The third was wrapt in red
vermillion.
"Ye lovely birds from Paradise
(My belov'd is gone to war)
Ye lovely birds from Paradise
What are you bringing here?"
"I bring to thee a glance of azure
(Thy belov'd is gone to war)"
"And I on your beautiful brow of
snow
A fond kiss must leave, yet purer
still."
"Thou bright red bird from Paradise
(My belov'd is gone to war)
Thou bright red bird from Paradise
What bringest thou to me?"
"A faithful heart all crimson red,
(Ton ami z'il est à la guerre)" Ah! je sens mon cœur qui froidit ... Emportez-le aussi. (Thy belov'd is to the fighting
gone)"
Ah! I feel my heart glowing cold...
Take it also with thee."
Ronde
[Les vieilles]
N'allez pas au bois d'Ormonde, Jeunes filles, n'allez pas au bois: Il y a plein de satyres, de
centaures, de malins sorciers, Des farfadets et des incubes, Des ogres, des lutins, Des faunes, des follets, des lamies, Diables, diablots, diablotins, Des chèvre-pieds, des gnomes, des
démons, Des loups-garous, des elfes, des
myrmidons, Des enchanteurs et des mages, Des stryges, des sylphes, des
moines-bourrus, Des cyclopes, des djinns, gobelins, Korrigans, nécromants, kobolds-Ah!
[Les vieux] N'allez pas au bois d'Ormonde, Jeunes garçons, n'allez pas au bois: Il y a plein de faunesses, de
bacchantes et de males fées, Des satyresses, des ogresses et des
babaïagas, Des centauresses et des
diablesses, Goules sortant du sabbat,
Des farfadettes et des démones, Des larves, des nymphes, des
myrmidones, Hamadryades, dryades, naïades,
ménades, thyades, Follettes, lémures, gnomides,
[Old Women]
Do not go to the woods of Ormond, Young girls do not go to the woods:
It is full of satyrs and centaurs, of
cunning wizards,
Of hobgoblins and incubus,
ogres and imps,
Fauns, will o’ the wisps, roguish
lamies,
Flying devils, devilkins,
goat-footed folk, gnomes and
demons,
Full of werewolves, elves, tiny
myrmidons,
of enchanters, magicians,
stryges, and sylphs, Full of outcast
monks,
of cyclops and djinns, goblins,
Korrigans, necromancers, and
kobolds-Ah!
[Old Men]
Do not go to the woods of Ormond,
Young boys, do not go to the
woods:
They are full of fauns, bacchantes,
fairy folks,
Satyresses, ogresses, babaïagas,
Centauresses and she-devils,
Succubes, gorgones, gobelines Ah!
N'allez pas au bois d'Ormonde. witches out from their Sabbath,
Of she-hobgoblins, female demons,
larves and nymphs, tiny
myrmidons,
Of hamadryads, dryads, naiads,
menades, thyades,
Will o’ the wisps, lemurs, female
gnomes,
succubus, gorgons, and
she-goblins-Ah!
Do not go to the woods of Ormond, [Filles et garçons] N'irons plus au bois d'Ormonde, [Maids and Lads]
We no longer go to the woods of
Hélas! plus jamais n'irons au bois. Il n'y a plus de satyres, plus de
nymphes ni de males fées. Plus de farfadets, plus d'incubes, Plus d'ogres, de lutins, De faunes, de follets, de lamies, Diables, diablots, diablotins, De chèvre-pieds, de gnomes, de
démons, De loups-garous, ni d'elfes, de
myrmidons, Plus d'enchanteurs ni de mages, de
stryges, de sylphes, De moines-bourrus, de cyclopes, de
djinns, De diabloteaux, d'éfrits,
d'aegypans,
de sylvains, gobelins, Korrigans, nécromans, kobolds - Ah!
N'allez pas au bois d'Ormonde, Les malavisées vieilles, Les malavisés vieux Les ont effarouchés. Ah!
Ormond
Alas! We never go to the woods.
There are no more satyrs, no more
nymphs, or fairy folks,
No more hobgoblins and incubus,
nor ogres or imps,
Fauns or will o’ the wisps or furies,
Devils, flying devils, or devilkins,
Goat-footed folk, gnomes, demons,
werewolves, elves, imps,
myrmidons,
No more enchanters, or magicians,
stryges, sylphs,
Or outcast monks nor cyclops,
Djinns,
little devils, efrits, aegypans,
sylvans, goblins,
korrigans, necromancers,
kobolds-Ah!
Do not go to the woods of Ormond, Ill-advised old women
and ill-advised old men
have frightened them all away. Ah!
June
#1
In the hot room surrounded by
fans,
touching my dirty fingertips,
sweating inside my shirt.
The house is a slow oven. I go
shopping in my own past-those well-worn handles, broken
jars, alone with you.
Can you let me know, the sound
that travels back?
And then I was in the hallway
with the big empty cart,
its hollow boom that echoed with
each roll.
A perfect mess,
Why wouldn't you just say
hunger? Why wouldn't you?
#2
I take the long way there. It's been a year and I've got
time in a pocket, fingerprint
bruises,
deep breaths that make clouds. The running stops.
The rush of days don't care about
your heart.
Where were we, with the sky
ripening at sunset, with the branches forming cages
overhead?
Where were your words? Now, I am: soundless, happy,
another pin on the trestle,
another spoke on the wheel.