La Scena Musicale is celebrating the Art Song with the worldwide survey, What is your favourite art song? Submit your vote at www.nextgreatartsong.com. Conductor Sergio Barza shares his three choices below.
3. Schubert – Gretchen am Spinnrade
“My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,
I will find it never
and never more.
Where I do not have him,
That is the grave,
The whole world
Is bitter to me.
My poor head
Is crazy to me,
My poor mind
Is torn apart.
My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,
I will find it never
and never more.
For him only, I look
Out the window
Only for him do I go
Out of the house.
His tall walk,
His noble figure,
His mouth’s smile,
His eyes’ power,
And his mouth’s
Magic flow,
His handclasp,
and ah! his kiss!
My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,
I will find it never
and never more.
My bosom urges itself
toward him.
Ah, might I grasp
And hold him!
And kiss him,
As I would wish,
At his kisses
I should die!”
Source: The LiederNet Archive
2. Brahms – Geistliches Wiegenlied
“You who hover
Around these palms
In night and wind,
You holy angels,
Silence the treetops,
My child is sleeping.
You palms of Bethlehem
In the roaring wind,
How can you today
Bluster so angrily!
O roar not so!
Be still, bow
Softly and gently;
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.
The child of heaven
Endures the discomfort,
Oh, how tired he has become
Of earthly sorrow.
Oh, now in sleep,
Gently softened,
His pain fades,
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.
Fierce cold
Comes rushing,
How shall I cover
The little child’s limbs?
O all you angels,
You winged ones
Wandering in the wind.
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.”
Source: The LiederNet Archive
1. Schubert – Der Erlkönig
Sergio Barza: “It is a piece that requires a lot of singer and the pianist, for the narrative and the four different roles. To tell the tale, and manage the form is a demanding task. Also the melody is beautiful, and the poem is fascinating.”
“Who’s riding so late through night, so wild?
It is the father who’s holding his child;
He’s tucked the boy secure in his arm,
He holds him tight and keeps him warm.
My son, why hide you your face in fear?”
See you not, father, the Erl King near?
The Erl King in his crown and train?”
My son, ’tis but a foggy strain.”
Sweet lovely child, come, go with me!
What wonderful games I’ll play with thee;
Flowers, most colorful, yours to behold.
My mother for you has garments of gold.”
My father, my father, and can you not hear
What Erl King is promising into my ear?”
Be calm, stay calm, o child of mine;
The wind through dried leaves is rustling so fine.”
Wouldst thou, fine lad, go forth with me?
My daughters should royally wait upon thee;
My daughters conduct each night their song fest
To swing and to dance and to sing thee to rest.”
My Father, my father, and can you not see
Erl King’s daughters, there by the tree?”
My son, my son, I see it clear;
The ancient willows so grey do appear.”
I love thee, I’m aroused by thy beautiful form;
And be thou not willing, I’ll take thee by storm.”
My father, my father, he’s clutching my arm!
Erl King has done me a painful harm!”
The father shudders and onward presses;
The gasping child in his arms he caresses;
He reaches the courtyard, and barely inside,
He holds in his arms the child who has died.”
Source: The LiederNet Archive
Submit your vote now at www.scena.org/artsong.
