Songs My Mother Taught Me

Transkript

1 Sunday 9 November 2008 at 7.30pm Songs My Mother Taught Me Magdalena Kozˇená mezzo-soprano Malcolm Martineau piano Schulhoff Folksongs and Dances from the Teˇ š ínsko Region: When I was on mummy s lap Come and sit in my trap I want to dance the Cossack dance Eben Little Sorrows Novák Fairytale of the Heart, Op. 8 Janácˇek Moravian Folk Poetry in Songs: The Little Bench Game Warden Little Apple Uneasy Musicians Silesian Songs from Helena Salichová s Collection: Hey, what nightingale is this one? In the black wood Barbican Hall INTERVAL 20 minutes Martinu Songs on Two Pages Dvorˇák Love Songs, Op. 83 Evening Songs, Op. 3: I dreamt you were dead Gypsy Melodies, Op. 55: And the wood is quiet all around Songs My Mother Taught Me The strings are tuned Each half of tonight s concert will last approximately 35 minutes. The performance will end at approximately 9.00pm. 100% Programme text printed on 100% recycled materials. The Barbican is provided by the City of London Corporation. Find out first Why not download your Great Performers programme before the concert? Programmes are now available online five days in advance of each concert. To download your programme, find out full details of concerts, watch videos or listen to soundclips, visit Due to possible last-minute changes, the online content may differ slightly from that of the printed version.

2 Notes Songs My Mother Taught Me Patrick O Connor in conversation with Magdalena Kozˇená Magdalena Kozˇená says that spending so much time, as she does, singing in French, German or Italian, it is a special pleasure to return to the Czech language. Of course, your own language is always the most comfortable to sing in. There s no language coach standing beside you in rehearsal, telling you you re pronouncing something incorrectly! And in your own language you can always get the best colours in the voice. Many of the songs I have chosen for this concert have been with me for a long time. Wherever I have been, I have included some of them in recitals. They are in my blood: when I sing them, it s as if I m not working. For this recital, Kozˇená says that she wanted to try and demonstrate the wide range of Czech music, especially that which has been inspired by folk melodies and poetry. Now, for people who don t know the language, it s a bit hard to explain. You see, in Moravia there are scores maybe hundreds of different dialects. Virtually every village has its own dialect. So people hearing it for the first time, even if they know Czech, won t understand a lot of it. This is all part of the folkloric tradition. There is a great pride in the individuality of each region. As a child, Kozˇená remembers often going to the village festivals, where there would be gatherings with everyone in traditional costume, And then the great pleasure they took in tasting wine in cellars. The musicians would come, playing in the gypsy style, with violin and cimbalom, and people would drink and sing. That was always so much fun. Erwin Schulhoff ( ) makes perhaps the most sophisticated use of Czech themes in his songs from Teˇšínsko. A pupil of Debussy, he was also one of the earliest Czech composers to take jazz seriously, and to incorporate its influence into his symphonic work. Schulhoff was very much a man of his time: he was influenced by Dada, by Soviet Social Realism, as well as the apparent opposites of the 12-tone music of the Second Viennese School and American ragtime and jazz. He was a pianist with the Jaroslav Ješ ek jazz orchestra in Prague in the 1930s. After the German 3

3 Notes invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1939, Schulhoff became a victim of the Nazi pogrom. His story is tragic, I have also recorded some of his German songs in the past. I find that in his arrangements, which are often very witty, you can always hear a certain kind of hope. For a lot of these artists, there was a greed for living every moment: they knew they didn t have much time left. Yet they often dealt with this dramatic, dreadful time, in a very optimistic way. I think his music deserves much more attention. Petr Eben ( ), unlike Schulhoff, survived the Holocaust (he was imprisoned in the concentration camp at Buchenwald). For many years a professor at Prague University, he also had a major career as a concert pianist. His music is rooted in his spiritual beliefs, and his fascination with medieval and Renaissance literature and art. Magdalena Kozˇená knew Eben from her student days. He was a very religious man, and I think you can hear that spirituality in his music. One can say that this is absolutely modern music, but then he also wanted to use15th-century poetry, and present it to us through his own eyes and ears. I also sang his music when I was at the start of my career as a student. He is a very important composer for the Czech people. His songs are very well written, and the choice of poetry is always fascinating. Víteˇzslav Novák ( ) was encouraged at an early age by Brahms, who recommended him to the Berlin music publisher Simrock, who issued some of his early piano cycles. From 1896 onwards, Novák made regular visits to Moravia, studying the folklore and music of the country. His group of songs, Op. 8 (Pohádka srdce, Fairytale of the Heart ) coincided with the beginning of a romantic, unhappy, involvement with the singer Josefina Javurková. Kozˇená adds, A lot of Czech music is still very littleknown, so my idea in these concerts was to juxtapose songs by all these very different composers, but in doing that to try and show the huge range that there is. There is a very big difference, say, between the simplicity of some of the Janácěk and Martinu o arrangements, and Novák s much more sophisticated style, but even his songs I can hear something very Czech, very close to all of us. The modern popularity of the music of Leoš Janácěk ( ) has overshadowed the work of nearly all 4

4 Notes other Czech composers. As Kozˇená grew up in Brno, where Janácěk lived, she feels a particular affinity with his music. Although he wasn t born in Brno, it s so connected to him as a person, one can feel his presence. Some of these little folk melodies that he arranged are really extremely simple. But even with the tiniest inflections he immediately turns them into personal statements. You can identify the composer straight away. And folk music was enormously important to him you can tell from the way he used so many of its motifs in his operas. I just wish that he d written more mezzo roles! But he needed that extra strength of the dramatic soprano voice impulsive and emotional to achieve the big range. Janácěk s biographer, John Tyrrell, has written: Eastern Moravian folk music (Janácěk s focus of interest) shares the melodically and rhythmically richer irregularities of word-based Slovak, Hungarian and Romanian folk music. In this sense Janácěk drew on sources that brought him closer to his contemporary Bartók than to his Bohemian predecessors Dvoř ák and Smetana. Bohuslav Martinu o ( ) came from the Bohemian-Moravian border country. Although his initial works drew on Czech folk music, Martinu o was early on attracted to French culture, and after the First World War went to live in Paris, where he studied with Roussel. Despite the immense sophistication of much of the music Martinu o composed in France and later the USA, he never completely abandoned his roots, and in 1944 composed the Songs on Two Pages, based on Czech themes. Though he was an immensely prolific composer (there are more than 25 operas and ballets), much of his music remains little-known. Just as 60 years ago, few people outside Czechoslovakia knew anything of Janácěk, so Martinu o awaits reappraisal, and a strong musical champion to bring his works to a wider audience. Antonín Dvořák ( ), remains the most popular of all Czech composers. Growing up amid the strongest possible folk-music influences his father was an innkeeper, and played the zither Dvořák went on to bring his country s music to the attention of an international public. But although his orchestral and chamber music is 5

5 Notes widely performed, only one of his operas Rusalka has achieved anything like a permanent place in the international repertory. Similarly, although Dvořák composed dozens of songs, one remains more famous than all the others Songs My Mother Taught Me, from his Gypsy Melodies, Op. 55. Why should this be? Magdalena Kozˇená tries to explain: It s hard to say. The melody is very catchy, which helps. He published it first of all in German, and it caught on very fast. Maybe if people had heard all the others as well, they might have chosen another. There is a continuity to Kozˇená s programming, for Dvořák, Janácěk and Martinu o all knew one another, and later the tradition passed to Novák, Schulhoff and Eben. I sang Martinu o from right at the start, when I was a student; there are so many of his songs that are good for that learning process because the vocal line is often very easy. I certainly included some of them at my very first recital when I was student. But it can be a deceptive simplicity. The later composers are much more sophisticated in their approach, in the way they use the folk melodies, but those melodies are still there, still important. Were these songs that Magdalena Kozˇená s mother taught her? She says that there are indeed songs here that she knew as a child, and which she heard in the village festivals, from musicians who kept alive the traditions of Czech and Moravian folk poetry and song. My mother is not a professional singer, not at all. But she loved to sing, and she knew a huge number of songs. There is a particular tradition of singing to children in our country, I would say much stronger than one sees any more in the West. It was really important, that in each family these songs would be handed down, taught to the children. Programme note Patrick O Connor 6

6 Erwin Schulhoff ( ) Národní písneˇa tance Teˇ sˇ ínska Když sem byla mamince na klineˇ Když sem byla mamince na klineˇ, hej, na klineˇ, hej, chodivali chlapci ke mneˇi v zimeˇ, a i v zimeˇ, hej! Když sem byla trochu veˇtš i pannu. veˇtš i pannu, hej, chodivali chlapci za mnu, jen za mnu, enem za mnu, hej! Sidej na vuz Sidej na vuz, kochani moje, neˇ pomože plakani tvoje, neˇ pomože, mily bože, už su konicǩy ve dvoře, sidej na vuz muj, kochani moje. Užby rada na vuz sidala, ešcěch otcu neďeǩovala, deˇkuju vam, otcě mily, byl steˇo meˇ starostlivy, už neˇbudeťeˇ, zustanťeˇ sbohem. Už by rada na vuz sidala, ešcěch matce neďeǩovala, deˇkuju vam, ma maticǩo, za vaše vychovanicǩo, zustanˇ teˇ sbohem, mamulko moja. Kozaka by tancovala Kozaka by tancovala, Kozaka mi hrejteˇ, A ktereho jo mam rada, Teho že mi dejteˇ! Davali mi peřveˇiho, Neštojim jo o neˇho, Davali mi druhieho, Tež neˇstojim o neˇho. Folksongs and Dances from the Teˇ sˇ ínsko Region When I was on mummy s lap When I was on mummy s lap, hey, on her lap, hey, the lads visited me even in winter, even in winter, hey! When I was a grown-up maid, a grown-up maid, hey, the lads used to come for me, only me, for me alone, hey! Come and sit in my trap Come and sit in my trap, my sweetheart, there s no need for you to cry, no need, dear God, the horses are already waiting, sit in my trap, my sweetheart. I should very much like to sit in your trap, but I haven t yet thanked my father, thank you, dear father, you have taken good care of me, do not worry any longer, I am bidding you farewell. I should very much like to sit in your trap, but I haven t yet thanked my mother, thank you, dear mother, for bringing me up, I am bidding you farewell, my dear mummy. I want to dance the Cossack dance I want to dance the Cossack dance, play the Cossack for me, and the one that I love, give him to me! They gave me one, I didn t care for him, they gave me another, I didn t care for him either. Please turn page quietly 7

7 Pasala volky Pasala volky na bukovineˇ, meľa ze sebu skřipky jedineˇ, i grala, zpivala, svoje sive, sive volky pasala. Pasla jich pasla, ežjich ztratila, ach ja nešˇt astna, coch to zrobila, i placě a chodi, kdo mi moje sive volky navruti. Uslyš el Jaš o placˇ, nařikani, přileteľ ku ni bez zavolani. Deˇvuš ko, co mi daš? Za pusinku hned tu svoje volky maš. Oj, kdybys ty mi volky zas nalaz, dala by tobeˇ pusinku zaraz, oj zaraz, oj zaraz, sedmdesat sedm razy, raz po raz. Uteǩal Jaš o ažk bukovineˇ a přignal volky, oddal divcǐneˇ. Divcǐno, volky maš, slubovalas dat pusinku, dat zaraz. Dala by tobeˇ pusinku, dala, kdyby mamulka za mnu neštala. Divcǐno, cǎchrajko, slubovalas a neďalas, ciganko! She was grazing her oxen She was grazing her oxen in the beech grove, she had nothing but her fiddle with her, she played, she sang, and her grey oxen grazed. Grazing them like that, she lost them. Alas, poor wretch, what have I done, she walks along crying, who will give me back my grey oxen? Jaš a heard her crying, lamenting, and he rushed up to her unbidden. Fair maid, what will you give me? For a kiss you will have your oxen back in a trice. Hey, if you retrieved my oxen for me, I would give you a kiss on the spot, on the spot, oh, on the spot, seventy-seven on the trot, one after another. Jaš a ran into the beech grove and rounded up the oxen. My beauty, you have your oxen, now you promised to give me a kiss. I would kiss you, I would, if my mummy were not watching over me. You minx of a gypsy girl, you have gone back on your promise. Petr Eben ( ) Malé smutky Plácˇ ze Spánku Dotvé duš e, která vic než rána od narození meˇ bolela na svu o j obraz chteľa bych se divat jako do cěrného jezera, aby se jak slaná slza v slze smutek mu o j v tvém smutku rozplynul. Ale kde jsi? Ráno při cěsání vevlasech mi praská drobná sul. Little Sorrows Crying in one s sleep How I wish I could gaze deep into your soul, which hurts me so deeply, like a wound; how I wish I could gaze upon my own image, as if it were a lake, dark and black as night, so that my sorrow and yours might run together like tears, salty and clear as spring water. But where are you? When I brush my hair in the morning, tiny salt crystals will crackle in my hair. 8

8 Láska Kdyby ted ocǐ zdvih, ma meˇ rád, řekla bych, ma meˇ rád. Že je vš ak nechal tak, sedl si na neˇ pták, musí spát. Že je vš ak nechal by t, mohu jak dosud snít ma meˇ rád? Zrozmaru, jenom tak, na ocǐ sed mi pták, musím spát. Chlebové Drobky Napadlo na decǩu pár chlebovy ch drobecǩu o. Za chvilenku dvoje dlaneˇ slétnou na neˇ jako moty li, cose stolu poletí. Snad zavadí o malícǩy, snad se dotknou prstenícǩy ruce tvé i mé, snad se dotkneme. Dy m z Cigarety Kouří si, kouří milácěk, ke stropu stoupá oblácěk meˇ kounce. Mlcˇíš i ty a mlcˇím já, zdaleka hudba doléhá tichounce. Kouří si, kouří, mu o j mily, vznáši se mrácěk spanily vy š a vy š, vy š a vy š. Vine se mrácěk kolem mne a přesto semne nedotkne, jenty smíš. Smutny Den Je smutny den, den š edivy, jdou mraky plné deste. Mu o j milácěk je podivín, byl vždycky, bude ješ teˇ. Mu o j milácěk už není my m, sedím tu zcela sama, zcela sama. Love Had he looked up just now, I d know: he loves me, he loves me! A little bird came, softly closed his eyelids, so that now he is still fast asleep. Since he has not stirred, can I still dream of his kisses? Oh, that a little bird might softly cover my eyes as well, because I too must sleep. Breadcrumbs Strewn across the snow-white tablecloth lie crumbs of dark bread; two pairs of hands flutter anxiously above them, like two butterflies, as if by deliberate design: you and I, each blown by the summer wind, over both the table and the bread. What if our fingers should meet, should softly brush one another in secret? Our hands might perhaps yes even touch. Cigarette smoke My darling is smoking! I watch you, you say nothing, and I I too say nothing, just like you. A little cloud rises ever so gently, the sound of far-off music reaches our ears, ever so quietly. My darling is smoking, smoking and saying nothing; see how the little cloud rises ever higher! It drifts gently over me, hovers lightly and frizzles in my face, but it doesn t dare to touch me that s for you to do! Miserable day What a grey day, what a funereal day! The rain clouds drift by. My darling is so strange and always will remain so. My darling no longer belongs to me, if indeed he ever, ever did! Please turn page quietly 9

9 Je smutny den, den š edivy, divám se do nezdnáma, do nezdnáma do nezdnáma. What a grey day, what a funereal day! I sit and stare blankly into empty space, I sit all alone and gaze into space. Víteˇzslav Novák ( ) Pohádka srdce, Op. 8 Písenˇ melancholická Jsou v sveťeˇ srdce ubohá, jež neví co je š teští, jimžkaždy den a každá noc jen novou bolest veští. Jsou v sveťeˇ srdce ubohá, jež neví co je láska, v nežˇ záhy jižza mlady ch let tak mnohá vryta vráska. Jsou v sveˇteˇ srdce ubohá, jež znají jenom touhy, vš ak málokdo si vzpomene, jak v touhách život dlouhy. Zda není snem? Zda není snem, že vinul jsem teˇ k sobeˇ a líbal rucǩy, líbal tváře obeˇ a celoval zas vábné tvoje rety, až v moři blaha pomíjely sveťy? Zda není snem, že vinul jsem teˇ k sobeˇ? Zda není snem to celé moje š teští, že zkvetly znovu lásky ratolesti, že srdce tvoje na my ch prsou bilo, jak o tom dlouho srdce mé jen snilo, zda není snem to celé moje š teští? Ach, byl to den tak luzny, beze stínu, já v myš lenkách teˇ ješteˇ k sobeˇ vinu a líbám znova, líbám vroucneˇ zase, acˇ vše už zaš lo v neúprosném cǎse. To znovu zas jsem poznal, co je š teští, a jaké blaho láska lásce veští, to opeť žil jsem den v tom sveťeˇ zdejším, Fairytale of the Heart, Op. 8 Melancholy Song There are wretched hearts in the world, which do not know what happiness is, for which every day and every night bring only new pain. There are wretched hearts in the world, which do not know what love is, in which, since their early years, so many furrows have been carved. There are wretched hearts in the world, which know only longing, but hardly any of which remember how long life drags on in yearning. Isn t it a dream? Isn t it a dream that I held you close to me and kissed your hands, kissed both your cheeks and again kissed your charming lips until the world was drowned in a sea of delights? Isn t it a dream that I held you close to me? Isn t it a dream, all that happiness of mine, that the shoots of our love have blossomed again, that I have felt your heart beating against my breast, the way my heart long only dreamt of, isn t it a dream, all that happiness of mine? Ah, that was such an enchanting, cloudless day, in my thoughts I again hold you close to me, I kiss you anew, I kiss you again passionately, though inexorable time has engulfed everything. So I have come to know once more what happiness is, and what joy love promises to love, I have in this world been able to relive 10

10 jenž žití mého dnem byl nejkrásneǰš ím. Zda není snem, že vinul jsem teˇ k sobeˇ? Vecˇer Jest vecěr, kouří se z lesu o, cěrvánek stromy prokmitá, kytici z vřesu ti nesu, je celá rosou pokryta. Každy ten nejmenš í kalich plá jakby protkán rubíny, nesu ti v tečh kvítkách maly ch, své lásky velké hlubiny. Podzimní nálada Južpřiš el podzim, sníh a mráz, kveť se stromu o a listí střás a smutek přines v duš i. Jen upomínek rychly let mneˇ chvíle šteští vrací zpeˇt, jak jaro mízu hruš i. A vzpomínám na vonny les, kde v nárucˇ tvou jsem poprv kles, teˇ zlíbal v stromu o stínu. Ó, drahá, vrat ty chvíle zas, necht hřejí v srdci v zimní cǎs což nevidíš, jak hynu? Ažprˇejde den Ažpřejde den, až budu spát, přijd na mu o j hrob se podívat, jen podívat a neplacˇmoc; kdo usnul již, spí každy rád, a svatá je ta tichá noc, ta noc, kdyžpřejde den. Meľ jsem teˇ rád, a ty to víš, jak snadnila jsi dnu o mi tíž, co setřelas mi slzí s řas, jen přijd a řekni: Ty užspíš, vš ak na mne neǩde cěkáš zas, vždyt meľs mne rád. the day that was the most beautiful of my life. Isn t it a dream that I held you close to me? Evening It is evening, the woods are smoky, twilight glimmers between the trees; I bring you a bouquet of heather, it is all covered in dew. Every tiniest calyx sparkles like a brocade of rubies. In these little flowers I bring you all the depth of my love. Autumn Mood Autumn has already come, snow and ice have made the blossom and leaves fall from the trees, and have brought sorrow into my soul. Only the rapid flight of memories brings back moments of happiness to me, like the rising of spring sap. And I remember the fragrant wood, where I first fell into your arms and kissed you in the shade of the trees. Oh, my dear, bring back those moments, so that they may warm my heart during the wintertime, do you not see how I am dying? Once the day is over Once the day is over, when I am sleeping, come and gaze on my grave, only look, do not cry much; those who have already fallen asleep are at peace, and holy is the silent night, the night that falls, once the day is over. I loved you, and you well know how many of my days you brightened, and that you dried the tears on my eyelids, so come and say: You are now asleep, but wait for me again somewhere, for you always loved me. Please turn page quietly 11

11 Leoš Janácˇek ( ) Moravská lidová poezie v písních Lavecˇ ka Ta naš a lavecǩa, aj užsa polámala, co sem se synecǩem, aj na ní sedávala. Byla to lavecǩa, aj z dřeva olš ového, byl ten mu o j synecěk srdenka faleš ného. Ta naš a lavecǩa, na dveˇ sa rozdeľila, že naš e srdenka obeˇ dveˇ rozlúcˇ ila. Ty naš a lavecǩo, aj zru o stni sa mi ešcě, starodávny galán, aj navrat sa mi ešcě! Moravian Folk Poetry in Songs The Little Bench That little bench of ours, it is broken now, where I used to sit with my beau. It was a little bench made of alder-wood, that beau of mine had a false heart. That little bench of ours, broken in two, just as our two hearts have gone their separate ways. O little bench of ours, become as you once were, give me back again my suitor of yesteryear. Hájny Hájícǩu zeleny Kdo t a hájit bude? Myslivca zabili, Hajného nebude. Hájícˇ ku zeleny Kdo t a hájit bude? Galánecǩo moja, Kdo k vám chodit bude? Eš cě sú hájící, Co ma hájívalí; Eš cě sú š ohajé, Co k nám chodívali. Eš cě sú hájící, Co ma jájit budú, Eš cě sú š ohajé, Co k nám chodit budú. Game Warden Who ll ward you now, my green wood sweet? The warden was killed, who ll watch over you. Who ll ward you now, my green wood sweet? My young fair maid, who will call on you? Still there are wardens, who have warded me, as there are young lads who have called on me. Still there are wardens who will carry on warding me, as there are young lads who will carry on calling me. 12

12 Jabúcˇko Fucˇ, veťřícǩu, z podolé, zronˇ jabúcǩo lebo dveˇ. Neránˇaj neˇ zelené, ale peǩné cěrvené. V zeleném je cěrvícěk, a v cěrveném Janícěk. Tiha Težˇko je mi, težˇko Na mojim srdecǩu, Jak by mi ho zvazal Hedbavnu š nˇurecǩu. Hedbavnu šnˇurecǩu Tu rozvazat možu, Na tebe, synecǩu, Zapomeť nemožu. Muzikanti Muzikanti co deľáte, aj, máte husle, a nehráte! Zahréte mneˇ na cimbále, at moja milá veselá je. Zahréte mneˇ na huslicǩy, a rozveselte ty dróžicǩy. Zahréte mneˇ na tó basu, a rozveselte vš ecku chasu. Zahréte mneˇ všeci spolu, a vyprovod te meˇ aždomu. Little Apple Blow, wind, from the valley, bring down a little apple or two. Do not blow down a green one, but a nice red one. In the green is a little worm, and in the red my Johnny. Uneasy I m feeling uneasy deep down in my heart, like it was bound, with a silk string tied up. A silk string indeed, I can unbind, but you, my sweet lad, forget I can t. Musicians What are you musicians doing? hey, you have violins but you are not playing! Play your cimbalom for me, to make my beloved merry. Play your fiddles for me, and amuse the maidens. Play your double bass for me, and entertain all the village boys. Play all together for me, and escort me home. Please turn page quietly 13

13 Slezské písneˇ ze sbírky Heleny Salichové Aj co to je za slavicˇek Aj co to je za slavicěk co tak š umneˇ zpiva; a to je muj najmilejš i, ze meˇ se vysmiva. Neˇvysmivaj se ty ze meˇ, z chudobnej deˇvuchy; neňosim ja střibra zlata ani drahe š aty. Po prvni raz sem teˇ videˇ l, jak si kravy pasla; ty si se mi zalubila, bo s š umneˇ zpivala. Po druhy raz sem teˇ videˇ l, jak s veňecěk vila; prosil sem teˇ o veňecěk, ty s mi ho neˇdala. Po třeti raz sem teˇ videˇ l, jak s ruže trhala; prosil sem teˇ o ružicǩu, ty s mi ju neďala. Aj, dala si, aj, dala si, vrš ky si strhala; z teho sem, deˇvucho poznal, že je laska mala. V cˇernym lese V cěrnym lese, ptacěk zpiva, ma mila tam travu sbira, nasbirala ji moc, neˇmohla si pomoc. Nasbirala, natrhala, na mileho zavolala: pod, š uhajku, pod, pod, neˇmožu si pomoc. Silesian Songs from Helena Salichová s Collection Hey, what nightingale is this one? Hey, what nightingale is this one that sings so sweetly; wait, it is my dear beloved, who is mocking me. Do not mock me, a poor penniless girl; I do not wear silver, gold or expensive clothes. The first time I saw you, you were grazing the cows; you took my fancy, because you sang so sweetly. The second time I saw you, you were plaiting a garland; I asked you for the garland, but you didn t give it to me. The third time I saw you, you were picking roses; I asked you for a rose, But you didn t give it to me. Ah, but you did give to me the petals you plucked off; that showed me, dear girl, the feebleness of your love. In the black wood In the black wood, a little bird is singing, my love is gathering grass there, she has collected too much, she couldn t stop herself. She gathered, she picked, she called out to her beau: come, my swain, come, I cannot stop myself. INTERVAL 14

14 Bohuslav Martinu o ( ) Pisnicˇ ky na dve stránky Deˇvcˇe z Moravy Přileteľ ptácěk z cizí krajiny, donesl psaní, v neˇm pozdravení. Bych se podíval do zemeˇ cěské, že jsou tam taky deˇvcˇátka hezké. Zu o stanu radš i v jihlavském kraji, najdu si deˇvcě hezké z Moravy. Moravka chodí přímo jak svíce, každá má k chlapcu o m upřímné srdce. Súsedova stajnˇa U súseda nová stajnˇa a v tej stajnˇeˇ koneˇ vrané. A kdo na neˇ sedat bude? Kdo by jiny jak synecěk. A cˇím on jich krmit bude? Peǩnú drobunkú sekankú. Z cěho on jich pojit bude? Z peǩné, ze zlaté putenky. Kaj su na nich jezdit bude? V cǐrém poli chytat lanˇky. Chytl on tam peǩnú lanˇku, lanˇ ku, lanǩu jménem Anku. Meľa ona zlaté rožky, rožky a stříbrné nožky. Ty rožky jí ulomíme a džbánku o z nich nalat dáme. Kdo z ty ch džbánku o pijat bude? Kdož by jiny jak synecěk. A co on z nich pijat bude? Což by jinš í jak vínecǩo. Songs on Two Pages A Girl from Moravia A little bird flew in from foreign parts, it brought a letter with a greeting in it. I should tour around the Bohemian lands, because there are pretty girls there too. But I d rather stay around Jihlava; I will find myself a pretty girl from Moravia. Moravian girls walk as upright as candles; everyone gives a faithful heart to her beau. Our Neighbour s Stable There s a new stable at the neighbour s, and in that stable raven-black horses. And who will mount them? Who else but the young lad. And what will he feed them? Nice bits of freshly cut hay. From what will he give them water? From a fine, golden pail. Where will he go to ride them? He will hunt hinds across the fields. There he caught a pretty hind, A hind, a hind by the name of Anka. She had golden antlers, golden antlers and silver hooves. We will break off her antlers and make cups out of them. And who will drink from these cups? Who else but the young lad. And what will he drink from them? What else but good wine. Please turn page quietly 15

15 Nadeˇje Hlaveňka meˇ bolí, srdécǩo ve mneˇ hrá, že mu o j š ohajícěk jinó panenko má. Jinó panenko má, jiné dary nosí, a já mám nádeǰu, že se meˇ naprosí. Že se meˇ naprosí, na kolínka klekne, nebude na tom dost, ješ cě klobók smekne. Nesmeké, synecǩu, nesmeké klobóka, at lidi neřeknó, že jsu Boží muka. Že jsu Boží muka, co na poli stojí, že za mnó pacholek cěrnooké chodí. Hlásny Chodí hlásny po deďineˇ, vesele si prozpeˇvuje, Krista Pána zvelebuje. Ach, mlcˇ, hlásnícǩu nespívy, neb mneˇ usnul mu o j rozmily, na m ch rukách peǩn ch, bíly ch. Nerada bych ho zbudila, nerada bych mu snu zruš ila, by ho hlava nebolela. Tájna láska Chceme my sa, chceme, ale potajemneˇ. Neznaj sa, deˇvcǐco, mezi ludma ke mneˇ. Jak se nemám znáti, dyž to ludé veď á, dyž tvé cěrné ocǐ dycky po mneˇ hled á. Boží muka U brneňské Boží moke, klecˇí tam š ohaj, sepnˇa roke. Přiš la k neˇmu jeho milá, a ptala se ho, co tam deľá. Hope My head is throbbing, my heart is in turmoil, because my beau has found another girl. He has another girl, he takes gifts to another, and I live in hope that he will beg me to have him back. That he will beg me, fall down on his knees, but this will not suffice, unless he doffs his hat to me. Do not doff, my lad, do not doff your hat, lest people mistake me for a roadside cross. For a roadside cross, which stands in the fields and is visited by a black-eyed servant. The Watchman The watchman walks about the village, he cheerfully sings to himself and praises Christ the Lord. Ah, be quiet, good watchman, do not sing, for my beloved has fallen asleep in my lovely white arms. I would not like to wake him, I would not like to disturb his dreams, so that his head does not hurt. Secret Love We want each other, we do, but secretly. Give me the cold shoulder, sweetheart, when we are amongst other folk. How am I supposed to ignore you, when everybody knows, when your black eyes are always looking for me. The Roadside Cross By a Brno roadside cross, a swain kneels there with his hands clasped. His beloved came up to him and asked him what he was doing there. 16

16 Nedeľám to, milá, mnoho, jenom se modlím Páno Boho. Habe mneˇ dal Pán Boh šcěstí, habech já dostal deˇvcě hezky. Zvolenovcí chlapci Zvolenovcí hezcí chlapci, nosí každy š átek v kapci. A š átecěk peǩny bíly, a kraje má malovany. Kery dáme mládencovi, Horákovy mu Frantovi? Dáme my mu ten ru o žovy, od Kacěnky Chaloupkovy. To je deˇvcě jako kvítek, dáme za ni dvacetnícěk. Estli vy to dobře víte, dvacetnícˇ ek dostanete! Jak bychom to neveďeľi, dyžsme vás spolu videľi? V tej komu o rce ste sedeľi, spolu ste se milovali! I am not doing that much, my love, just praying to the Lord God. May the Lord God grant me happiness, may he bestow on me a pretty girl. The Lads from Zvolen The handsome lads from Zvolen, each carries a handkerchief in his pocket. A pretty white hankie with embroidered hems. Which one will we give to the young Franta Horák? We will give him the pink one belonging to Kacěnka Chaloupková. Now she s a young girl in full bloom, we will give sixpence for her. If you know what it s all about, you shall have the sixpence. How should we not know that, since we saw you together. You were sitting in that chamber whispering sweet nothings to one another. Antonín Dvorˇák ( ) Milostne písneˇ, Op. 83 Ó, naši lásce nekvete Ó, naš i lásce nekvete To vytoužené š teˇstí: A kdyby kvetlo, A kdyby kvetlo, Nebude dlouho, dlouho kvésti. Procˇ by se slza v ohnivé Polibky vekrádala? Procˇ by mne v plné lásce své Ouzkostneˇ objímala? Love Songs Oh, our love does not bloom Oh, our love does not bloom with that long-desired bliss: and if it should bloom, it would not be for long. Why would a teardrop steal into fiery kisses? Why would she embrace me so anxiously in the fullness of love? Please turn page quietly 17

17 Ó, trpké je to loucění, Kde nadeǰ nezakyne: Tu srdce cítí ve chveňí, Že brzo, act, brzo bídneˇ zhyne. V tak mnohém srdci mrtvo jest V tak mnohém srdci mrtvo jest, Jak v tem né pustineˇ, V neˇm na žalost a na bolest, Ba, místa jedineˇ. Tu klam mi lásky horoucí V to srdce vstupuje, A srdce žalem prahnoucí, To mní, že miluje. A v tomto sladkḿ domneňí Se ješ teˇ jednou v ráj To srdce mrtvé promeˇní A zpívá, zpívá, starou báj! Kol domu se ted hpotácím Kol domu se ted hpotácím Kdes bydlívala dříve, A z lásky räny krvácím, Lásky sladké, lživé! A smutny m okem nazérám, Zdaž ke mneˇ vedeškroku: A vstříc ti nárucˇ otvírám, Vš ak slzu cítím v oku! Ó, kde jsi, drahá, kde jsi dnes, Což nepřijdeš mi vstříce? Cožnemám v srdci slast a ples, Teˇ uzřít nikdy více? Já vím, že v sladké nadeˇji Já vím, že v sladké nadeˇji Teˇ smím přec milovat; A že chceš tím horoucneˇji Mou lásku peˇstovat. Oh, bitter is that parting where hope does not die: the trembling heart feels that soon, ah soon, forlornly it will perish. Death dwells in so many a heart Death dwells in so many a heart, as in the gloomy wilderness; aye, there is a place in it only for sorrow and for pain. Delusions of burning love enter into my heart, and the heart, pining from grief, believes that it loves. And in that sweet assumption this dead heart transforms itself once more into a paradise and sings the old legend! Now I falter past the house Now I falter past the house where you once lived, and I bleed from the wound of sweet, false love! And I watch with a sorrowful eye to see whether you take a step towards me, and I open my arms to meet you, but I feel a tear in my eye! Oh, where are you beloved, where are you today, why do you not come to meet me? Why is my heart not filled with delight and exultation, never to behold you again? I know that in sweet hope I know that in sweet hope I may still love you, and that you wish thereby more ardently to nurture my love. 18

18 A přec, když nazřím ocˇí tvy ch V tu přerozkoš nou noc, A zvím, jak nebe lásky z nich Na mne snáš í moc: Tu moje oko slzamí, T náhle se obstírá, Neb v š teˇstí naš e za námi Zly osud pozírá! Nad krajem vévodí lehky spánek Nad krajem vévodí lehky spánek, Jasná se rozpjala májová noc; Nesmeˇly krade se do listí vánek, S nebes se schy lila míru moc. Zadřímlo kvítí, potokem š umá Tiš eji nápeˇvu o tajemny ch sbor. Příroda v rozkoš i blaženeˇ dumá, Neklidny ch živlu o vš ad utichl vzpor. Hveˇzdy se seš ly co nadeˇje sveˇtla, Zemeˇ se meˇní na nebesky kruh. My m srdcem, v neˇmž to kdys blaženost kvetla, My m srdcem táhne jen bolesti ruch! Zde v lese u potoka Zde v lese u potoka Já stojím sám a sám; A ve potoka vlny V myš lenkách pozírám. Tu vidím stary kámen, Nad nímž se vlny dmou; Ten kámen stoupá a padá Bez klidu pod vlnou. A proud se onˇopírá, Až kámen zvrhne se. Kdy vlna života Mne ze sveˇta odnese? And still, when I look into your eyes on this glorious night, and discover how love s heaven envelops me in its power: Then suddenly my eyes overflow with tears, for behind us in our joy lurks an evil fate! Gentle slumber reigns over the countryside Gentle slumber reigns over the countryside the clear May night has unfolded; a shy breeze steals into the leaves, the power of peace has descended from the heavens. The flowers have dozed for a while, through the brook there murmurs a soft chorus of secret melodies. Nature muses blithely in delight, everywhere the restless elements agitation is stilled. The stars have congregated as lights of hope, the earth transforms into a celestial orb; at my heart, in which rapture once blossomed, at my heart tugs only the torment s tumult. Here in the forest by a brook Here in the forest by a brook I stand alone, and gaze into the brook s waves, lost in thought. I see an old stone, over which the waves surge, the stone rises and falls ceaselessly under the waves. And the current washes against it, until the stone topples over; when will the wave of life bear me away from this world? Please turn page quietly 19

19 V té sladké moci ocˇ i tvy ch V té sladké moci ocǐ tvy ch Jak rád, jak rád bych zahynul, Kdyby meˇ k životu jen smích Rtu o krásny ch nekynul. Vš ak tu smrt sladkou zvolím hned S tou láskou, s tou láskou ve hrudí: Kdyžmeˇ jen ten tvu o j smavy ret K životu probudí. Ó dusˇe drahá, jedinká Ó duš e drahá, jedinká Jež v srdci žiješ dosud: Má oblétá teˇ myšlenka, Acˇ nás deľí zly osud. Ó, kéž jsem zpeˇvnou labutí, Já zaleteˇl bych k tobeˇ; A v posledním bych vzdechnutí Ti vypeˇ l srdce v mdlobeˇ. In the sweet power of your eyes In the sweet power of your eyes How gladly would I perish, if only the laughter of beautiful lips did not beckon me to life. But I will at once choose sweet death with this love in my breast: if only those smiling lips of yours will rouse me to life. Oh, dear matchless soul Oh, dear matchless soul, which has ever dwelt in my heart: my memory orbits around you, though evil fate divides us. Oh, if only I were a singing swan, I would wing my way to you; and as I sighed my last, swooning I would sing out my heart to you. Vecˇerní písneˇ, Op. 3 Mneˇ zdálo se, žes umrˇela Mneˇzdálo se, žes umřela; slyš el jsem zvonit hrany, a plácě bylo, kvílení a nářku na vš e strany. Tak divneˇ Ti tam ustlali! Na hrob Ti kámen dali, a abych na neˇj napsal verš, mne vlídneˇ požádali. Ó, lidé, lidé z kamene, zde srdce mé si meǰte a co jsem ješ teˇ nezpíval, to do kamene vrejte. Mé lásce jste neveˇřili a zhrdli my mi slovy, kdyžbude kámen mluvit k vám, snad vám to lépe poví. Evening Songs, Op. 3 I dreamt you were dead I dreamt you were dead; I heard bells tolling, and there was weeping, wailing and lamenting on all sides. What a strange bed they prepared for you! On your grave they put a stone, and they kindly asked me to write a verse for it. Oh people, people of stone, here you have my heart and what I have not yet sung, carve that on the stone. You did not believe my love, and you scorned my words, when it is the stone that speaks to you, perhaps it will be more eloquent. 20

20 Cikánské melodie, Op. 55 A les je tichy kolem kol A les je tichy kolem kol, jen srdce mír ten ruš í, a cěrny kouř, jenž speˇchá v dol, mé slze v lících, mé slze suš í. Vš ak nemusí jich usuš it, necht v jiné tváře bije. Kdo v smutku mu o že zazpívat, ten nezhynul, ten žije! Kdyžmne stará matka Když mne stará matka zpívat ucˇívala, podivno, že cǎsto, cˇ asto slzívala. A ted také plácěm sneˇdé líce mucˇím, kdyžcigánské deˇti hrát a zpívat ucˇím! Struna naladeˇna Struna naladeˇna, hochu, tocˇse v kole, dnes, snad dnes převysoko, zejtra zase dole! Pozejtří u Nilu za posvátny m stolem; struna jižnaladeˇna, hochu, tocˇ se kolem! Gypsy Melodies, Op. 55 And the wood is quiet all around And the wood is quiet all around, only my heart disturbs the peace, and the black smoke that swirls in the vale dries the tears I have shed on my cheeks. However, it need not dry them, let it assail other faces. Whoever can sing when sad has not perished but lives still. Songs My Mother Taught Me When my old mother taught me to sing, it was strange that often, often she would cry. And now I also torment my tanned cheeks with tears, when I teach gypsy children to play and sing. The strings are tuned The strings are tuned, my lad, come and dance in the circle, today maybe on top of the world, tomorrow right down below again. The day after tomorrow by the Nile, a guest at a sacred banquet; the strings are already tuned, my lad, come and dance in the circle. All English translations of Czech texts Paul Wingfield, and reprinted by kind permission of Deutsche Grammophon (CD booklet ) except for: Eben s Malé Smutky, translated from the German by Mark Pappenheim; Schulhoff s Kozaka by tancovala, Janácˇek s Hájny and Tiha, texts, courtesy of Central European Music Agency/Supraphon, and translations courtesy of the Wigmore Hall; Dvořák s Milostne písneˇ, Op. 83, translations courtesy of the Wigmore Hall. Grateful thanks to Paula Best for all her help. 21