Boston Symphony Orchestra Concert Programs, Summer, 2004
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2004, Tanglewood to SEIJI O ZAWA HALL Prelude Concert lOth ANNIVERSARY SEASON Friday, August 27, at 6 Florence Gould Auditorium, Seiji Ozawa Hall TANGLEWOOD FESTIVAL CHORUS JOHN OLIVER, conductor with FRANK CORLISS and MARTIN AMLIN, pianists FENWICK SMITH, flute ANN HOBSON PILOT, harp Texts and Translations Translations by Laura Mennill and Michal Kohout RHHr3 LEOS JANACEK (1854-1928) !!2£9@& Three Mixed Choruses P£yt£fr&iMi Pisen v jeseni Song of Autumn Nuz vzhuru k vysinam! Then up at heights! Cim jsou mi vazby tela? Whose is my textured body? HfMM Ja neznam zhynuti. I don't know death. V*$R 9 Ja neznam smrti chlad, I don't know cold death, A4S&2I Mne jest, )ak hudba sfer I feel like a sphere of music by nad mou hlavou znela, sounds above my head. Ja letim hvezdam vstric na bile peruti. I fly to meet the star on white wings. Ma duse na vlnach jak kvet buji, My soul on waves as flowers grow wild, z ni vune, laska ma se vznasi vys a vys, from its odor, my love floats higher and higher, kol moje myslenky se toci, poletuji, how much my thoughts roll, fly, jak pestfi motyli, like a colorful butterfly, ku hvezdam bliz a bliz! towards the star nearer and nearer! Ma duse paprsek, My soul beams, se v modrem vzduchu houpa, in the blue air sways, vidi, co sni kvet see, what dreams flower na dne v svem kalichu, at the bottom of its goblet, cim trtina zastena, what reeds shield, kdyz bfe hu vlna skoupa as the waves hit the shores ji usty vlhkymi chce zlibat potichu. her moist mouth wants a quiet kiss. Ma duse reva jest, My soul is a vine, po kmenu lidst va se vine, winding itself around the trunk of humanity, proplita svym svezim lupenim it winds its fresh leaves Please turn thepage quietly. a roste vys a vys az nebes do azuru, and grows higher and higher until heavens azure. svet blazi chladem svym it pleasures the world with its coolness a hvezdy nadsenim! and the stars with its enthusiasm! A vsecky pisne me, jez posud v nitru And all my songs, sleeping within, spaly, jak hrozny bohate se lesknou v ni, like rich grapes shine inside it, a vyzpivane juz se ptacim kfidlem vzpjaly and sing out when the wings of a bird unfold a krouzi ve vysi a jejich hymnus zni! and circles high and their hymn sounds! Jsem tvym, 6 prirodo! I am yours, o nature! V tvuj eter kvet muj spje! In your ether my flower binds itself! O zeme, v hrudi tve tkvi moje kofeny! Oh earth, in your breast rests my root! A slunce z cise sve dest' blesku namne And sun from its glass rains lightning onto leje me a mesic tichymi mne zlati plameny, and the moon is making me golden with its flame na tvem lune bez zalu, nadeje, on your bosom without grief, hope, bez tuch a rozmaru, without suspicion and mood, chci spati vecny sen, I want to sleep eternal dreams, ma duse leti ze kvetu jen jak vune at', my soul only as odor from the summer blooms, a jak blesk z poharu and as lightning from goblets. -Jaroslav Vrchlickj Kacena divoka Wild Duck Kacena divoka letela s vysoka, Wild duck flies high, sohaj, dobry stfelec stfelil ji do boka, a lad, a good shot, shot her in her side, do boka leveho pod pravu nozicku. in her left side below her right foot. Ona zaplakala sedna na vodicku; She cried and sat on the water; hofko zaplakala, na Boha zvolala; bitterly she cried and cried to God; Ach Boze, rozboze, uz jsem doletala! Oh God, dear God, now I am finished! Uboha kaaca, Poor duck, uz jsem sva kacatka uz jsem dochovala, I already raised my baby ducks, Moje drobne deti nedelaju skody; my tiny kids don't do any harm; sednu Dunaju, kalnu vodu piju, they sit by the Danube drinking muddy water, tvrdy pisek jeda. eating hard sand. Vy drobna kacatka, polet'te vy za mnou! You tiny ducklings, you fly to me! Sak my poletime k velkemu Dunaju. We will fly to the great Danube. —Traditional Nase pisen Our Song Po svych otcu stare note zapejme si, After your fatherly old notes sing friend. pfatele. Bude razem po trampote, Our troubles will go away, oci blysknou vesele. eyes merrily glitter. Svarnou, zdravou, usmevavou, Dashing, healthy, smiling, pravou ceskou, zdravou pisen! true Czech, healthy song! Nase pisen vzacna neni, charpou kvete Our song isn't rare, it grows in the field, na poli, vlnou skace po kameni, it jumps with the waves over stones, H ptackem v lese sveholi. it sings with litde birds in the woods. Nad kolebkou andelicku zvoni It rings like angels' bells above a cradle ze rtu matcinych, from a mother's lips, a v komurce pri mesicku and in the closet in the moonlight touzi z ustek divcinych. it longs for the lips of a young girl. Tu zas, vyskne, svizna, cila, Here again it's merry, supple, agile, tu si styskne, here it's lonely, roztomila, ceska pisen, lovely, Czech song, prava zdrava pisen. authentic, healthy song. Bujnym tancem v kole sumi, In a spirited dance in a pair it hums, az se chveje podlaha, until the floor vibrates, nezi dupnout sobe umi tvrde, vzdorne it stamps hard resisting the assassin. na vraha. Hnala k d'asu cizi chasu, It chases the foreigners to hell, silna, slavna, staro davna, prava vigorous, glorious, traditional, real Czech song! ceska pisen! —Svatopluk Cech leoSjanaCek Vlci stopa The Wolfs Trail Temna noc! Dark night! Stary hejtman hleda stopu vlci. Old nobleman searches for traces of a wolf. Divne se ta stopa az v sad pansky stoci! Strangely the tracks wind into the nobleman's orchard! Druhou noc, jiz hejtman do svitaani For the second night, already until dawn the nobleman rise ponocoval sam calmly sits up alone s nabitou zbrani. with a loaded weapon. Kolem mlha, kam jen obzor staci. Around the fog, as far as the eye can see. Hejtman v zamysleni krouti sede kniry. The nobleman in thought, twists his gray whiskers. "Sper to risk hromu, "By great thunder, skoda noci, pujdu radsi domu!" wasted night, I would rather go home!" A tarn ve snehu jasna zafe se kmitla! And there in the snow a bright light flashed! Hejtmanovi hlavou myslenka hrozna, Through the nobleman's head a terrible idea, desna jak propast bezedna! horrible like a bottomless abyss! Za ni shluk jiny vifivem kole! After it, many other [thoughts] in a wild mix! Hoj! tak supu hejno krace na mrtvole! Hey! a swarm of vultures walking on the corpse! Snad vlk to zavyl v dalce, Perhaps the wolf howls in the distance ci mrazivy vitr do topolu pere? or the frosty wind pounds the poplars? A opet. zdaz to okno neb vichr stena? and again. .whether that window or the strong wind groans? "Dable! "Devil! Za rim oknem dfima moje mlada zena!" Beyond that window my young wife slumbers!" Jeho mlada zena, plna, krasna ruze, His young wife, voluptuous, beautiful rose, holubice smava. noble dove. Please turn the page quietly. Kdoz te bujne krvi, kdo ji muze verit? Who, this restless blood, who can believe it? Hie zas novy proud svetla, Look another new stream of light, v nem dva stiny hraji; inside which two shadows play; viz, dve bile nice, okno otvi raji, hie, see, two white arms, open window, stin jeden tmavy jak se spousti dolu! look, how one dark shadow descends down below! Druhy stin se kloni v jeho obejmuti. A second shadow leans towards his embrace. Slys, tech palnych retu sladke pfizehnuti, Hear, those burning lips sweet heat, div se hejtman zdrzi sileneho bolu. wonder how the nobleman restrains the great pain. Oko v slzach, pusku ohledava. Eyes in tears, he searches for the rifle. K lici klade pusku v divem rozechveni. He aims the gun in wild excitement. Sladke prizehnuti. Houklarana! Sweet burning. A shot rings out! Snad vecnym toto polibeni! Perhaps with this eternal kiss! Dnes jiste nasel hejtman stopu vlci! Today for sure the nobleman found the tracks of the wolf! —-Jarvslav Vrchlickj ANTONIN DVORAK (1841-1904) Z Kytice narodnich pisni From a Bouquet of Slavonic slovanskych, Opus 43 Songs, Opus 43 2al Grief Travicka zelena, kade ja chodievam, Green grass, wherever I walk, lebo ju ja casto siza mi polievam. because on it I often shed tears. Usta mi spievaju, oci sa mi smeju, My mouth sings, my eyes smile, Ale od srdecka slzy sa mi leju. but from my heart tears flow. Nie proto si zpievam, bych bola vesela I would not therefore sing to be merry ale proto zpievam, bych ziale zabola. but therefore sing to forget grief. Ziale moje ziale smutne, My grief, sad grief, osirale ako ta rosicka na zelenej trave; lonely as that dew on the green grass; jeste tu rosicku vetricek oduje still that dew has comfort from wind a mna zarmucenu nik nepolutuje. and on my grief none has compassion. —Traditional Slovakian Divna voda Strange Water Na torn nasem dvofe, to je voda, Boze! In that yard of ours, there is water, God! Kdo se ji napije, zapomnet nemoze. Whoever drinks it cannot forget. Napil se ji, napil, pekny sohajicek zrana; A fine man drank from it in the morning, nemohel zampomnet do svateho Jana. could not forget until St. John's Day, do svateho Trojice until Trinity holiday nemohel zapomnet sve svarne devcice. could not forget his pretty girlfriend. —Traditional Moravian .