Bring Him Home (Aug 10 + 11) | Dane Suarez, tenor

Ne poy, krasavitsa, pri mne, Op. 4, No. 4 (Rachmaninoff)

Text by Alexsandr Pushkin

Do not sing, my beauty, to me

your sad songs of Georgia;

they remind me

of that other life and distant shore.

Alas, They remind me,

your cruel melodies,

of the steppe, the night and moonlit

features of a poor, distant maiden!

That sweet and fateful apparition

I forget when you appear;

but you sing, and before me

I picture that image anew.

Do not sing, my beauty, to me

your sad songs of Georgia;

they remind me

of that other life and distant shore.

Vesenniye vodi [Spring Waters], Op. 14, No. 11 (Rachmaninoff)

Text by Fyodor Tyutchev

The fields are covered still with snow,

But Spring has swollen all the streams.

They run and sparkle as they go,

And wake the shores from drowsy dreams.

They call out loudly on their way:

“Spring’s coming on! Spring’s coming on!

We bring the message here today,

That’s why we meet you on the run!

Spring’s coming on! Spring’s coming on!

And soon the lovely days of May

Will follow happily along

And dance a merry roundelay!”

Morgen [Tomorrow], Op. 27, No. 4 (R. Strauss)

Text by John Henry Mackay

And tomorrow the sun will shine again,

and on the path I will take,

it will unite us again, we happy ones,

upon this sun-breathing earth...

And to the shore, the wide shore with blue waves,

we will descend quietly and slowly;

we will look mutely into each other's eyes

and the silence of happiness will settle upon us.

Zueignung [Dedication], Op. 10, No. 1 (R. Strauss)

Text by Hermann von Gilm

Yes, you know it, dearest soul,

How I suffer far from you,

Love makes the heart sick,

Have thanks.

Once I, drinker of freedom,

Held high the amethyst beaker,

And you blessed the drink,

Have thanks.

And you exorcised the evils in it,

Until I, as I had never been before,

Blessed, blessed sank upon your heart,

Have thanks.

Cinq mélodies populaires grecques (Ravel)

Text by Michel-Dimitri Calvocoressi

1. Chanson de la mariée [The bride's awakening]

Wake up, wake up, pretty partridge,

Spread your wings to the morning,

Three beauty spots – and my heart's ablaze.

See the golden ribbon I bring you

To tie around your tresses.

If you wish, my beauty, let us marry!

In our two families all are related.

2. Là-bas, vers l'église

Down there by the church,

By the church of St. Sideros,

The church, O Holy Virgin,

The church of St. Constantine

Are gathered together, buried in infinite numbers,

The bravest people, O Holy Virgin,

The bravest people in the world!

3. Quel galant m'est comparable

What gallant can compare with me?

Among those seen passing by?

Tell me, Mistress Vassiliki?

See, hanging at my belt,

Pistols and sharp sword...

And it's you I love!

4. Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques [Song of the lentisk gatherers]

O joy of my soul, joy of my heart,

Treasure so dear to me;

Joy of the soul and of the heart,

You whom I love with passion,

You are more beautiful than an angel.

Oh when you appear, angel so sweet,

Before our eyes,

Like a lovely, blonde angel

Under the bright sun –

Alas, all our poor hearts sigh!

5. Tout gai!

So merry,

Ah, so merry;

Lovely leg, tireli, that dances

Lovely leg, the crockery dances,

Tra la la.

Nebbie [Mists] (Respighi)

Text by Ada Negri

I suffer. Far, far away

The sleeping mists

Rise from the silent

Plain.

Shrilling cawing, the crows,

Trusting their black wings

Cross the heath

Grimly.

To the raw weathering of the air

The sorrowful tree trunks

Offer, praying, their

Bare branches.

How cold am I! I am alone;

Driven through the gray sky

A wail of extinction

Flies;

And repeats to me: come,

The valley is dark.

Oh sad, oh unloved one,

Come! Come!

L'alba sepàra dalla luce l'ombra (Tosti)

Text by Gabriele D'Annunzio

The dawn separates the darkness from the light,

And my sensual pleasure from my desire,

O sweet stars, the hour of death is now at hand:

A love more holy sweeps you from the skies.

Gleaming eyes, O you who'll never return,

sad stars, snuff out your uncorrupted light!

I must die, I do not want to see the day,

For love of my own dream and of the night.

Envelop me, O Night in your maternal breast,

While the pale earth bathes itself in dew;

But let the dawn rise from my blood

And from my brief dream the eternal sun!

The Lord's Prayer (Malotte)

Our Father, which art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done in earth,

As it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our debts,

As we forgive our debtors.

And lead us not into temptation;

But deliver us from evil:

For thine is the kingdom,

and the power, and the glory, forever.

Amen.

B R E A K

Despite and Still, Op. 41 (Barber)

1. A Last Song* (text by Robert Graves)

*Originally "A Last Poem"

A last song, and a very last, and yet another

O, when can I give over?

Must I drive the pen until blood bursts from my nails

And my breath fails and I shake with fever,

Or sit well wrapped in a many colored cloak

Where the moon shines new through Castle Crystal?

Shall I never hear her whisper softly:

"But this is truth written by you only

And for me only;

Therefor, love, have done?"

2. My Lizard (Wish for a Young Love) (text by Theodore Roethke)

My lizard, my lively writher,

May your limbs never wither,

May the eyes in your face

Survive the green ice

Of envy's mean gaze;

May you live out your life

Without hate, without grief,

And your hair ever blaze,

In the sun, in the sun,

When I am undone,

When I am no one.

3. In the Wilderness (text by Robert Graves)

He, of his gentleness,

Thirsting and hungering

Walked in the wilderness;

Soft words of grace he spoke

Unto lost desert-folk

That listened wondering.

He heard the bittern call from ruined palace-wall,

Answered him brotherly;

He held communion

With the she-pelican

Of lonely piety.

Basilisk, cockatrice,

Flocked to his homilies,

With mail of dread device,

With monstrous barbed stings;

With eager dragon eyes,

Great bats of leathern wings

And old, blind broken things

Mean in their miseries.

Then ever with him went,

Of all his wanderings

Comrade, with ragged coat,

Gaunt ribs, poor innocent

Bleeding foot, burning throat,

The guileless young scapegoat:

For forty nights and days

Followed in Jesus' ways,

Sure guard behind him kept.

Tears like a lover wept.

4. Solitary Hotel (text by James Joyce)

Solitary hotel in a mountain pass.
Autumn. Twilight. Fire lit.
In dark corner young man seated.
Young woman enters.
Restless. Solitary. She sits.
She goes to window. She stands.
She sits. Twilight. She thinks.
On solitary hotel paper she writes.
She thinks. She writes. She sighs.
Wheels and hoofs. She hurries out.
He comes from his dark corner.
He seizes solitary paper.
He holds it towards fire. Twilight.
He reads. Solitary. What?
In sloping, upright and backhands:
Queen’s hotel, Queen’s hotel, Queen’s ho–...

5. Despite and Still (text by Robert Graves)

Have you not read

The words in my head,

And I made part

Of your own heart?

We have been such as draw

The losing straw

You of your gentleness

I of my rashness,

Both of despair

Yet still might share

This happy will:

To love despite and still,

To love despite and still.

Never let us deny

The thing's necessity

But, o, refuse to choose

When chance may seem to give

Loves in alternative.

To love despite and still.

Bring Him Home from Les Misérables (Schönberg)

Text by Herbert Kretzmer (based on play by Victor Hugo)

God on high, hear my prayer.

In my need you have always been there.

He is young, he's afraid.

Let him rest heaven blessed.

Bring him home, bring him home,

bring him home.

He's like the son I might have known,

if God had granted me a son.

The summers die one by one,

how soon they fly on and on.

And I am old and will be gone.

Bring him peace, bring him joy.

He is young, he is only a boy.

You can take, you can give.

Let him be, let him live.

If I die, let me die,

let him live.

Bring him home, bring him home,

bring him home.

Move On from Sunday in the Park with George (Sondheim)

Text by Sondheim

GEORGE

I've nothing to say.

DOT

You have many things.

GEORGE

Well, nothing that's not been said.

DOT

Said by you, though, George.

GEORGE

I do not know where to go.

DOT

And nor did I.

GEORGE

I want to make things that count

Things that will be new.

DOT

I did what I had to do:

GEORGE

What am I to do?

DOT
Move on.

Stop worrying where you're going –

Move on.

If you can know where you're going,

You've gone.

Just keep moving on.

I chose, and my world was shaken –

So what?

The choice may have been mistaken,

The choosing was not.

You have to move on.

Look at what you want,

Not at where you are,

Not at what you'll be.

Look at all the things you've done for me:

Opened up my eyes,

Taught me how to see,

DOT + GEORGE

Notice ev'ry tree...

Understand the light...

DOT

Concentrate on now –

GEORGE

I want to move on.

I want to explore the light.

I want to know how to get through,

Through to something new,

Something of my own –

DOT + GEORGE

Move on.

DOT

Stop worrying if your vision

Is new.

Let others make that decision –

They usually do.

You keep moving on.

Look at what you've done,

Then at what you want,

Not at where you are,

What you'll be.

Look at all the the things you gave to me.

Let me give to you

Something in return.

I would be so pleased...

GEORGE (over DOT)

...Something in the light,

Something in the sky,

In the grass,

Up behind the trees...

Things I hadn't looked at till now:

Flower on your hat

And your smile

And the color of your hair

And the way you catch the light,

And the care

And the feeling

And the life

Moving on!

DOT

We've always belonged

Together!

DOT + GEORGE

We will always belong

Together!

DOT

Just keep moving on.

Anything you do,

Let it come from you.

Then it will be new.

Give us more to see...

You've Got a Friend (King)

When you're down and troubled
And you need some lovin' care,
And nothin', nothin' is goin' right,
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night.

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come runnin'
To see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
All you have to do is call,
And I'll be there.
You've got a friend.

If the sky above you
Grows dark and full of clouds,
And that old north wind begins to blow,
Keep your head together
And call my name out loud.
Soon you'll hear me knockin' at your door.

Now ain't it good to know that you've got a friend
When people can be so cold?
They'll hurt you, yes, and desert you
And take your soul if you let them.
Oh, but don't you let them
You just call out my name...

A Letter from Sullivan Ballou (Kander)

Text by Sullivan Ballou from a letter to his wife

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we move in a few days –

perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again,

I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall upon your eye

when I am no more.

I have no misgivings about or lack of confidence

in the cause in which I am engaged,

and my courage does not halt or falter.

I know how strongly American civilization

now leans on the triumph of the government

and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us

through the blood and sufferings of the revolution.

And I am willing, perfectly willing to lay down all my joys in this life

to help maintain this government

and to pay that debt...

Sarah, my love for you is deathless.

It seems to bind me with mighty cables

that nothing but omnipotence could break;

and yet my love of country comes over me

like a strong wind and bears me unresistably on

with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you

come creeping over me,

and I feel most gratified to God

and to you

that I have enjoyed them so long.

And hard it is for me to give them up

and burn to ashes the hopes of future years

when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together

and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood around us.

I have, I know, but a few and small claims upon divine providence,

but something whispers to me,

perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar,

that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed.

If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you,

and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield,

it will whisper your name.

Forgive my faults and the many pains I have caused you.

How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been!

How gladly would I wash out with my tears

every little spot upon your happiness...

But, oh, Sarah!

If the dead can come back to this earth

and flit unseen around those they loved,

I shall always be near you;

in the gladest days

and in the darkest nights,

always, always.

And if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek,

it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple,

it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone

and wait for thee,

for we shall meet again...

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are strong that we shall move in a few days –

perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again,

I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall on your eye

when I am no more.

Nessun dorma from Turandot (Puccini)

Libretto by Giuseppe Adami + Renato Simoni

None shall sleep!... None shall sleep!...

Even you, oh Princess, in your cold room,

watch the stars that tremble with love

and with hope!

But my secret is hidden within me,

my name no one shall know!

No, no, on your mouth I will tell it,

when the light shines resplendent!

And my kiss will dissolve the silence

that makes you mine!

Vanish, o night! set, stars! Set, stars!

At dawn I'll win! I will win! I will win!

Granada (Lara)

Text by Lara

Granada, land of my dreams,

my song becomes that of a romaní

when I sing to you.

My song, born of fantasy;

my song, a flower of melancholy,

that I've come to offer you.

Granada, land covered in blood

from the bullfighting afternoons,

woman who retains the spell

of Moorish eyes.

A dreamland, a rebel, a romaní,

covered with flowers,

and I kiss your mouth,

like a juicy crimson apple,

that tells me about loves.

Granada, my beautiful,

sung in precious couplets,

I have nothing else to give you

but a bouquet of roses,

worthy of adorning the brown-skinned Virgin.

Granada, your soil is full

of beautiful women, blood, and sunshine.