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Russian Reflections Disc 4 (2016)
The element of romance may well be the soul of Russian music, as evident in the provocative verse of Aleksandr Blok set powerfully to music by Dmitry Shostakovich. Disc 4 places Shostakovich alongside the mercurial German Romantic Robert Schumann, the urbane Frenchman Gabriel Fauré, and the ardent Czech nationalist Antonín Dvořák.
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Selections
Piano Trio no. 2 in F Major, op. 80 | Robert Schumann (26:27)
- David Finckel, Cello
- Arnaud Sussmann, Violin
- Wu Han, Piano
Romance in B-flat Major for Violin and Piano, op. 28 | Gabriel Fauré (6:10)
- Michael Brown, Piano
- Arnaud Sussmann, Violin
Písně milostné (Love Songs), op. 83 | Antonín Dvořák (14:55)
Text by Gustav Pfleger-Moravsky
Translation by David Beveridge
Song titles are bolded
Ó, naší lásce nekvěte
to vytoužené štěstí:
a kdyby květlo, na světě
nebude dlouho kvěsti.
Proč by se slza v ohnivé
polibky vekrádala?
Proč by mne v plné lásce své
ouzkostně objímala?
Ó, trpké je to loučení,
kde naděj nezakyne:
tu srdce cítí ve chvění,
že brzo bídně zhyne.
Oh, That Longed-for Happiness
Does Not Bloom for Our Love;
and if it would bloom, in this world
it would not bloom for long.
Why would a tear steal
into fiery kisses?
Why would she embrace me
in her full love with anxiety?
Oh, bitter is that parting
where hope does not beckon:
the heart then feels, trembling,
that soon in misery it will die.
v tak mnohém srdci mrtvo jest
jak v temné pustině;
v něm na žalost a na bolest
ba místa jedině.
Tu klamy lásky horoucí
v to srdce vstupuje
a srdce žalem práhnoucí
to mní, že miluje.
A v tomto sladkém domnění
se ještě jednou v ráj
to srdce mrtvé promění
a zpívá starou báj!
So Many a Heart Is As Though Dead,
as in a dark wasteland;
yea, only for grief and for pain
does it have room.
Then delusions of burning love
enter into that heart,
and the heart, yearning in misery,
believes that it loves.
And in this sweet belief
the dead heart once again
transforms itself into a paradise
and sings the old tale!
kol domu se ted’ potácím,
kdes bydlívala dříve,
a z lásky rány krvácím,
té lásky sladké, lživé!
A smutným okem nazírám,
zdaž ke mně vedeš kroku:
a vstříc Ti náruč otvírám,
však slzu cítím v oku!
Ó, kde jsi, drahá, kde jsi dnes,
což nepřijdeš mi vstříce?
Což nemám, v srdci slast a ples,
Tě uzřít nikde více?
Around the House Now I Stagger,
where you used to live,
and from the wound of love I bleed,
of that love sweet, deceitful!
And with a sad eye I watch
whether you step toward me:
and toward you my arms I open,
but a tear I feel in my eye!
Oh where are you, dear one, where are you today?
Won’t you come toward me?
Am I not, with delight and joy in my heart,
to behold you ever again?
Já vím, že v sladké naději
Tě smím přec milovat:
a že chceš tím horoucněji
mou lásku pěstovat.
A přec, když nazřím očí Tvých
v tu přerozkošnou noc;
a zvím, jak nebe lásky z nich
na mne snáší moc:
Tu moje oko slzami
se náhle obstírá,
neb v štěstí naše za námi
zlý osud pozírá!
I Know That in Sweet Hope
I may love you after all,
and that you want to nurture
my love all the more fervently.
And still, when I look into your eyes,
into that blissful night,
and learn how love’s heaven
brings down its power from them upon me,
then my eye suddenly
clouds with tears,
for in our happiness, behind us
Evil fate is watching!
Nad krajem vévodí lehký spánek,
jasná se rozpjala májová noc;
nesmělý krade se do listí vánek,
s nebes se schýlila míru moc.
Zadřimlo kvítí, potokem šumá,
příroda v rozkoši blaženě dumá,
neklidných živlů však utichl vzpor.
Hvězdy se sešly co naděje světla,
země se mění na nebeský kruh:
mým srdcem, v němžto kdys blaženost květla,
mým srdcem táhne jen bolestí ruch!
Over the Countryside Reigns a Light Sleep;
clear has stretched out the May night.
A shy breeze steals into the leaves;
from heaven has bent down the realm of peace.
The flowers have dozed; in the brook murmurs
nature, in delight, blissfully meditates;
but the squabble of restless elements has fallen silent.
The stars have come together like lights of hope;
Earth is changing into a celestial sphere.
Through my heart, in which once bliss bloomed,
through my heart spreads only the turmoil of pain!
Zde v lese u potoka
já stojím sám a sám
a ve potoka vlny
v myšlenkách pozírám.
Tu vídím starý kámen,
nad nímž se vlny dmou;
ten kámen vstoupá, padá
bez klidu pod vlnou.
A proud se oň opírá,
až kámen zvrhne se:
kdy vlna života mne
se světa odnese?
Here in the Forest by a Brook
I stand alone, all alone,
and into the brook’s waves
in thoughts I gaze.
Then I see an old stone,
over which the waves rage;
that stone rises and falls
without rest under a wave.
And the current presses on it
until the stone overturns.
When will the wave of life
carry me away from the world?
V té sladké moci očí Tvých
jak rád bych zahynul,
kdyby mně k životu jen smích
rtů krásných nekynul.
Však tu smrt sladkou zvolím hned
s tou láskou ve hrudi:
když mě jen ten Tvůj smavý ret
k životu probudí.
In That Sweet Power of Your Eyes
how gladly would I die,
if only the laughter of lovely
lips did not beckon me to life.
But I’ll choose that sweet death at once
with that love in my breast,
if only those smiling lips of yours
will awaken me to life.
Ó, duše drahá, jedinká,
jež v srdci žiješ dosud:
má oblétá Tě myšlenka,
ač dělí nás zlý osud.
Ó kéž jsem zpěvnou labutí,
já zaletěl bych k Tobě:
a v posledním bych vzdechnutí
Ti vypěl srdce v mdlobě.
Oh Dear Soul, the Only One
that still lives in my heart:
my thoughts hover about you,
though evil fate separates us.
Oh, were I a singing swan,
I’d fly to you,
and in my final sighing would
sing out my heart to you, swooning.
- Dina Kuznetsova, Soprano
- Wu Qian, Piano
Seven Romances on Poems of Aleksandr Blok for Soprano, Piano, Violin, and Cello, op. 127 | Dmitry Shostakovich (26:22)
Translation by Danielle Sinclair
Song titles are bolded
Pesnja Ofelii
Razluchajas’ s devoj miloj, drug,
Ty kljalsja mne ljubit’.
Ujezzhaja v kraj postylyj,
Kljatvu dannuju khranit’.
Tam, za Danijej schastlivoj,
Berega tvoji vo mgle...
Val serdityj, govorlivyj
Mojet sljozy na skale.
Milyj voin ne vernjotsja,
Ves’ odetyj v serebro...
V grobe tjazhko vskolykhnjotsja
Bant i chjornoje pero.
Ophelia’s Song
On parting from your sweetheart, my beloved,
you promised to love me.
Departing for that hated land,
you swore to keep your promise.
There, beyond cheerful Denmark,
your native shores lie in darkness...
an angry, vociferous wave
washes teardrops from the rocks.
My beloved warrior, all dressed in silver,
will not return...
in the sepulcher his ribbon and black plume
will wave fretfully.
Gamajun ptica veshchaja
Na gladjakh beskonechnykh vod,
Zakatom v purpur oblechennykh,
Ona veshchajet i pojot,
Ne v silakh kryl podnjat’ smjatennykh.
Veshchajet igo zlykh tatar,
Veshchajet kaznej rjad krovavykh,
I trus, i golod, i pozhar,
Zlodejev silu, gibel’ pravykh.
Predvechnym uzhasom ob’jat,
Prekrasnyj lik gorit ljubov’ju,
No veshchej pravdoju zvuchat
Usta, zapekshijesja krov’ju!
Gamayun the Prophetic Bird
On the smooth expanse of endless water,
suffused with the purple of twilight,
it prophesies and sings,
too weak to raise its restless wings.
It tells of the evil Tatar yoke,
of a succession of bloody executions,
of terror, and famine, and fire,
of the rise of evil, and the destruction of the just.
Shrouded in perpetual horror,
its beautiful face glows with love,
but the truth is heard
from its blood-caked mouth!
My byli vmeste
My byli vmeste, pomnju ja...
Noch’ volnovalas’, skripka pela.
Ty v eti dni byla moja,
Ty s kazhdym chasom khoroshela.
Skvoz’ tikhoje zhurchan’je struj,
Skvoz’ tajnu zhenstvennoj ulybki
K ustam prosilsja potseluj,
Prosilis’ v serdtse zvuki skripki...
We Were Together
We were together, I remember it...
the night was troubled, a violin sang.
In those days you were still mine,
growing more lovely by the hour.
Through the soft murmur of streams,
through the mystery of a woman’s smile,
a kiss beckoned to our lips
as the violin beckoned to our hearts...
Gorod spit
Gorod spit, okutan mgloju,
Chut’ mertsajut fonari.
Tam daljoko, za Nevoju,
Vizhu otbleski zari.
V etom dalnem otrazhen’ji,
V etikh otbleskakh ognja
Pritailos’ probuzhden’je,
Dney, tosklivykh dlja menja.
The City Sleeps
The city sleeps, shrouded in gloom,
street lamps faintly flickering.
Far in the distance, beyond the Neva,
I see the first gleam of dawn.
These distant reflections,
these glimmers of flame,
concealed the awakening
of my days of sorrow.
Burja
O, kak bezumno za oknom
Revjot, bushujet burja zlaja,
Nesutsja tuchi, l’jut dozhdjom,
I veter vojet, zamiraja!
Uzhasna noch’! V takuju noch’
Mne zhal’ ljudej, lishennykh krova,
Sozhalenije gonit proch’
V objat’ja kholoda syrogo.
Borot’sja s mrakom i dozhdjom,
Stradaltsev uchast’ razdeljaja...
O, kak bezumno za oknom
Bushujet veter, iznyvaja!
The Storm
How furiously the savage storm
roars and rages outside the window.
Scudding clouds pour down rain,
the wind howls and subsides!
Dreadful night! On a night like this
I feel such pity for the homeless.
This compassion drives me out
into the cold embrace.
To battle the darkness and the rain
and share their misery...
Outside the window
the furiously roaring wind subsides!
Tajnyje znaki
Razgorajutsja tajnyje znaki
Na glukhoj, neprobudnoj stene.
Zolotyje i krasnyje maki
Nado mnoj tjagotejut vo sne.
Ukryvajus’ v nochnyje peshchery
I ne pomnju surovykh chudes.
Na zare golubyje khimery
Smotrjat v zerkale jarkikh nebes.
Ubegaju v proshedshije migi,
Zakryvaju ot strakha glaza,
Na listakh kholodejushchej knigi
Zolotaja devichija kosa.
Nado mnoj nebosvod uzhe nizok,
Chjornyj son tjagotejet v grudi.
Moj konets prednachertannyj blizok,
I vojna, i pozhar—vperedi...
Secret Signs
Secret signs burn
on the impassive wall.
Gold and red poppies
hang above my dreams.
I take refuge in the caverns of night
and do not remember the austere marvels.
At dawn, blue chimeras
gaze down from mirror-bright skies.
I escape into the past,
closing my eyes in fear.
Across the cold page of a book
a girl’s golden curl falls.
Above me the sky descends,
and dark dreams lie heavy on my breast.
My appointed end is near,
war and flames lie before me…
Muzyka
V noch’, kogda usnjot trevoga
I gorod skrojetsja vo mgle,
O, skol’ko muzyki u boga,
Kakije zvuki na zemle!
Chto burja zhizni,
Jesli rozy tvoji tsvetut mne i gorjat!
Chto chelovecheskije sljozy,
Kogda rumjanitsja zakat!
Primi, Vladychitsja vselennoj,
Skvoz’ krov’, skvoz’ muki, skvoz’ groba
Poslednej strasti kubok pennyj
Ot nedostojnogo raba.
Music
At night, when worries are asleep
and the city is hidden in darkness,
O what music there is with God,
what sounds are heard on Earth!
What does life’s turmoil matter
if your roses bloom for me and blaze!
What do human tears matter
in the crimson glow of a sunset!
Accept, O Queen of the Universe,
through blood, through pain, through death,
this brimming cup of the final passion
from your unworthy servant.
- Michael Brown, Piano
- Dina Kuznetsova, Soprano
- Alexander Sitkovetsky, Violin
- Paul Watkins, Cello
Artists
- Michael Brown, Piano
- David Finckel, Cello
- Dina Kuznetsova, Soprano
- Alexander Sitkovetsky, Violin
- Arnaud Sussmann, Violin
- Paul Watkins, Cello
- Wu Han, Piano
- Wu Qian, Piano
Total Time: 1:14:04
Discs: 1
Price: $15.00
Year Recorded: 2016