Faculty Recital
Program
Johann Sebastian Bach
Mein Freund ist mein, duet from Cantata, BWV 140
Andy Parker, baritone & Abigail Jackson, soprano
Ludwig van Beethoven
An die ferne Geliebte, Op. 98
Eric Ewazen
To Cast a Shadow Again
Dave Scott, trumpet
Gioacchino Rossini
“Dunque io son?”, duet from Il barbiere di Siviglia
Stephanie Doche, mezzo soprano
Gaetano Donizetti
“Appressati, Lucia”, duet from Lucia di Lammermoor
Maria Cook, soprano
Giuseppe Verdi
“Dio che l’alma infondere”, duet from Don Carlo
Juan Carlos Rodriguez, tenor
Translations
Johann Sebastian Bach
My Friend is mine, and I am yours,
Love will never part us.
I will with You, you will with Me
Graze among heaven’s roses
Where complete pleasure and delight will be.
Ludwig van Beethoven
To the Distant Beloved
1. I sit on the hillside, gazing
Sitting on the hillside, I look
Into the blue, haze-covered land
To the distant meadows
Where, my beloved, I first saw you.
I am far away,
Mountains and valleys part us,
They lie between us and our peace,
Between our happiness and the pain we
share.
Ah, you cannot see that urgent, glowing look
I send to find you,
And my signs vanish
In the space that holds us apart.
Can nothing reach you,
Nothing serve as messenger of love?
I will sing, sing to you songs
That will express my woe.
For at the sound of song
Time and space disappear
And a loving heart achieves
What it holds most dear.
2. Where the mountains so blue
Where the mountains so blue
Out of the foggy gray
Look down,
Where the sun dies,
Where the cloud encircles,
I wish I were there!
There is the restful valley
Stilled are suffering and sorrow
Where in the rock
Quietly the primrose meditates,
Blows so lightly the wind,
I wish I were there!
There to the thoughtful wood
The power of love pushes me,
Inward sorrow,
Ah! This moves me not from here,
Could I, dear, by you
Eternally be!
3. Light veils in the heights
Light veils in the heights,
And you, little brook, small and narrow,
Should my love spot you,
Greet her, from me, many thousand times.
See you, clouds, her go then,
Meditating in the quiet valley,
Let my image stand before her
In the airy heavenly hall.
If she near the bushes stands,
Now that autumn is faded and leafless,
Lament to her, what has happened to me,
Lament to her, little birds, my suffering!
Quiet west, bring in the wind
To my heart's chosen one
My sighs, that pass
As the last ray of the sun.
Whisper to her of my love's imploring,
Let her, little brook, small and narrow,
Truly, in your waves see
My tears without number!
4. These clouds in the heights
These clouds in the heights,
These birds gaily passing,
Will see you, my beloved.
Take me with you on your light flight!
These west winds will play
Joking with you about your cheek and breast,
In the silky curls will dig.
I share with you this pleasure!
There to you from this hill
Busily, the little brook hurries.
If your image is reflected in it,
Flow back without delay!
5. May returns, the meadow blooms,
May returns, the meadow blooms,
The breezes they blow so softly, so mildly,
Chattering, the brooks now run.
The swallow, that returns to her hospitable roof,
She builds, so busily, her bridal chamber,
Love must dwell there.
She brings, so busily, from all directions,
Many soft pieces for the bridal bed,
Many warm pieces for the little ones.
Now live the couple together so faithfully,
What winter has separated is united by May,
What loves, that he knows how to unite.
May returns, the meadow blooms,
The breezes they blow so softly, so mildly,
Only I cannot go away from here.
When all that loves, the spring unites,
Only to our love no spring appears,
And tears are our only consolation.
6. Take, then, these songs,
Take, then, these songs,
That I to you, beloved, sang,
Sing them again in the evenings
To the sweet sounds of the lute!
When the red twilight then moves
toward the calm, blue lake,
And the last ray dies
behind that hilltop;
And you sing, what I have sung,
What I, from my full heart,
Artlessly have sounded,
Only aware of its longings.
For before these songs yields,
What separates us so far,
And a loving heart reaches
For what a loving heart has consecrated.
…to cast a shadow again
Poetry by Katherine Gekker
Stopped by the stream
we steam like two workhorses
The moisture lies white
on the field
and your shoulders
Our own fog melts
thin shingles of ice water
I lean over to kiss
your halo of moisture
My face comes away wet.
II.
Luminescent moonlight startles me
I’m wildly awake in the wrong season
Your foot hangs out of the covers
and like a lighthouse for the moon
directs its rays to a safe landing
there’s a pulse on your instep
Everything else is night
but your foot, the moon, my eyes
What woke me
the whiteness of your skin
III.
Two bees are fighting or courting;
I can’t tell which.
The ground’s covered with flowers
smooth as kid leather bats’ wings.
We sit surrounded, our backs hard
against the tulip magnolia.
Your words drift down
like blossoms around my ears.
IV.
That didn’t take too long;
I thought I was asleep. But
your hand —
currents over my hip.
Five seconds
changed the color of leaves
the smell of earth
the shapes of stars.
I’m awake now, always.
The moon is company. Its only comfort:
a blue whiteness on my body
where I long for your hand to cast a shadow again.
V.
Everyone says it snowed last night
but I know it’s the whitening of your love
blowing across my eyelids
where your lips used to rest.
A confused tree sends out one green branch,
covets its few withered leaves and won’t release them to the snow.
Not evergreen, but half green:
like us.
Our feet kick up white storms
wet ankles skim over the trails
This is what I want to hold:
One green branch on a hibernating tree.
It bent softly when I brushed against it.
VI.
Hands underwater on my body
gentle fingers flutter
frictionless, like fish
brush against me
and quick swim away.
Waves chop.
Your hands can’t rest, they find no purchase
I’m about to go under
You only touched me once under water
but this is how I remember it always:
your hands slide away.
VII.
Cordite surrounded you
Caps popped in my heart
the day we held fireballs in our mouths
red tongues dangerous drums
our small battles squealed roman candles
now you march
across the street to me
through a haze of gunpowder:
Battalion guarding my heart fortress.
VIII.
Lie down and cry.
And tears will roll into your ears.
Your words, my words, blank ceiling,
And my ears are wet, cold.
Your words did that to me.