CANDLER CONCERT SERIES - Arts at Emory - Emory University

flora glenn
candler concert series
schwartz center for performing arts
sasha cooke, mezzo soprano
pei-yao wang, piano
Friday, october 18, 2013, 8:00 p.m.
This program is made possible by a generous gift from the late
Flora Glenn Candler, a friend and patron of music at Emory University.
Emerson Concert Hall
Schwartz Center for Performing Arts

Program
Mein Herz ist wie die dunkle Nacht (Der Mond) Felix Mendelssohn
Bei der Wiege (1809–1847)
Frage
An’dres Maienlied
A Charm of Lullabies, op. 41
Benjamin Britten
A Cradle Song (1913–1976)
The Highland Balou
Sephestia’s Lullaby
A Charm
The Nurse’s Song
Old American Songs
Aaron Copland
Simple Gifts (1900–1990)
Little Horses
At the River
Ching-a-Ring Chaw
—Intermission—
Three Early Songs
George Crumb
Night (b. 1929)
Let It Be Forgotten
Wind Elegy
Shéhérazade
Maurice Ravel
Asie (1875–1937)
La flûte enchantée
L’indifférent
Five Poems of Max Jacob
Francis Poulenc
Chanson bretonne (1899–1963)
Cimetière
La petite servante
Berceuse
Souric et Mouric
Program subject to change.
Sasha Cooke will be signing CDs in the lobby immediately following the performance.
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program notes
Selected Songs of Felix Mendelssohn
Born in Germany in 1809, Felix Mendelssohn was regarded not only as
a composer, but also as a pianist, organist, and conductor. During his
career he spent time travelling throughout Europe, including a great
deal of time in England. Much of Mendelssohn’s vocal music was for
sacred use, but he also composed a large volume of songs for voice
and piano. The songs performed on this evening’s program come from
a variety of collections from throughout his life. Unlike many of his
contemporaries, Wagner, Berlioz, and Liszt, there was not much of an
evolution of musical style during Mendelssohn’s life. While composing
during the Romantic era, his works remained fairly conservative and
favor many of the conventions of the classical style.
A Charm of Lullabies, op. 41
Written in 1947, A Charm of Lullabies was composed for mezzo
soprano Nancy Evans. She had recently completed performances of
the title role in Benjamin Britten’s opera The Rape of Lucretia. A Charm
of Lullabies is Britten’s only vocal work between 1940 and 1965 not
written for the voice of tenor Peter Pears. The five songs in the cycle
are on poems of William Blake, Robert Burns, Robert Greene, Thomas
Randolph, and John Philip.
All of the songs are lullabies of one sort or another, greatly varied
in musical style and dramatic intent, and are unconventional in their
reflections of meanings and moods not usually thought of as related to
cradle songs. They are a prime example of Britten’s ability to complement
text and music. He captures the essence of each poem with a musical
atmosphere that seems a perfect fit, and then surprises us with
unpredictable twists in melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic elements.
Old American Songs
Aaron Copland was one of the most respected American classical
composers of the twentieth century. By incorporating popular forms
of American music such as jazz and folksong into his compositions,
he created pieces that were both exceptional and innovative. As a
spokesman for the advancement of indigenous American music,
Copland made great strides in liberating it from European influence.
The Old American Songs were arranged in two sets in 1950 and 1952.
Both the piano and orchestral versions of Copland’s arrangements
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ecame so well-known, their popularity quite possibly eclipsed the
original folk songs on which they were based.
Three Early Songs
For a long time George Crumb has been a favorite of mine. Last
summer, in a moment of absolute splendor listening to Gil (Kalish)
speak at Menlo, Patrick (Castillo) played these pieces and I was instantly
won over. It certainly helped that Jan DeGaetani was his collaborator
on the recording, a mezzo I’ve revered since I discovered her singing
while I was in the music recording library at Rice University in 2000.
When you’re a student or even at the beginning of your career, it’s
certainly helpful to see experienced artists with whom you feel a kinship.
Crumb wrote much of his music for Gil and DeGaetani (lucky me!).
Unlike the aural world and performance aesthetic you might associate
with him, these songs are much more tuneful and intimate. When I’ve
played the songs for friends, they all say, “Oh that doesn’t even sound
like Crumb!” To give you an idea, in the last Crumb song I performed,
the pianist tapped on the piano’s lid for accompaniment. In all of his
music, though, there is a magic and sense of the cosmos, a truly original
soundscape. He wrote Three Early Songs in 1947 to the poetry of Robert
Southey and Sara Teasdale. He dedicated the songs to his wife, Elizabeth
Brown, who did the first reading. Interestingly enough, his daughter,
Ann, was later asked to record them on Bridge Records, so in Crumb’s
words, “it was something of a completion.”
—Sasha Cooke
Shéhérazade
In 1903, Maurice Ravel was inspired to set three of Tristan Klingsor’s
poems as a song cycle titled Shéhérazade. In 1898 he had written an
overture to a planned opera based on the Thousand and One Nights,
also titled Shéhérazade. The opera was never finished, but some
materials from the overture found their way into the song cycle.
“The influence of Debussy is fairly obvious,” Ravel admitted. “Here
again I yielded to the profound attraction which the East has always held
for me since my childhood.” The longest of the three songs is the first, a
catalog of exotic delights from Asia. The text is separated by brief piano
interludes. The middle song, La flûte enchantée (The Magic Flute) has
accompaniment reminiscent of Ravel’s ballet Daphnis and Chloë (1912).
Ravel once suggested that the final song, L’indifférent (The Indifferent
One), was referring to his own personality.
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Five Poems of Max Jacob
Now for a bit of the absurd. Francis Poulenc composed these
lighthearted songs in 1931, only a few years after being introduced
to Max Jacob, among many other fascinating poets and artists at a
bookstore called Maison des Amis des Lettres in his hometown of Paris.
(How amazing it must have been. If I could pick a time to have lived it
would be then.) Though musically untrained, Poulenc was a follower
of Satie’s simple musical canvases, so he set out to do the opposite
of Wagner and Debussy and create music embracing simplicity, irony,
and even banality. As one of the group of Les Six, he often deliberately
was obscure to maintain an air of mystery and, I’d like to think, to
even leave some things unanswered for himself. In these songs you’re
not sure whether you’re dealing with a child-like purity and innocence
or a hidden truth behind it all. Regardless, the images conjure up
emotions and sensations we all can relate to. This is my favorite aspect
of music—its ability to connect us on a human level.
As Jacob died in a concentration camp and believed up until the
end that he would be saved, I can’t help but think of him during the
second song, Cimetière. Throughout the group, you will hear the use
of speech-like vocal writing, simple rhythms, easy melodies, and open
and sometimes percussive accompaniment (with possibly as many rests
as notes if that gives you an idea). Poulenc’s use of repetition and traces
of popular tunes was likely derived from Parisian musical entertainment.
All of this lends to the ultimate clarity and immediacy intrinsic to
Poulenc’s songs. He always gives the sense that he doesn’t take himself
too seriously, something we could all use. In the context of a recital, he
is a wink and a breath of fresh air. Sometimes while singing Poulenc, I
feel as if I’m sitting in a dark and smoky cafe with a piano playing in the
background. Is there any wonder why his music is so much fun?
—Sasha Cooke
—Program notes by Debra Joyal, unless otherwise indicated.
5

TExts and translations
Mein Herz ist wie die My Heart Is Dark
dunkle Nacht (Der Mond) Like the Night (The Moon)
Mein Herz ist wie die dunkle Nacht,
My heart is like the dark night,
Wenn alle Wipfel rauschen;
when all the treetops rustle;
Da steigt der Mond in voller Pracht
There rises the moon in full splendor
Aus Wolken sacht,
from among clouds softly,
Und sieh—der Wald verstummt
and behold—the forest grows
in tiefem Lauschen.
silent in deep listening.
Der Mond, der helle Mond bist du:
The moon, the bright moon are you:
Aus deiner Liebesfülle
In your abundance of love
Wirf einen, einen Blick mir zu
cast a glance to me
Voll Himmelsruh’,
full of heavenly peace,
Und sieh, dies ungestüme Herz—wird stille. and behold, this unquiet heart—becomes still.
Bei der Wiege
Schlummre! Schlummre
und träume von kommender Zeit,
Die sich dir bald muß entfalten,
Träume, mein Kind, von Freud’ und Leid,
Träume von lieben Gestalten!
Mögen auch viele noch kommen und gehen,
Müssen dir neue doch wieder erstehen,
Bleibe nur fein geduldig!
Schlummre! Schlummre
und träume von Frühlingsgewalt,
Schau’ all’ das Blühen und Werden,
Horch, wie im Hain der Vogelsang schallt,
Liebe im Himmel, auf Erden!
Heut’ zieht’s vorüber und kann
dich nicht kümmern,
Doch wird dein Frühling auch blühn
und schimmern,
Bleibe nur fein geduldig!
Frage
Ist es wahr? Ist es wahr?
Daß du stets dort in dem Laubgang,
An der Weinwand meiner harrst?
Und den Mondschein und die Sternlein
Auch nach mir befragst?
Ist es wahr? Sprich!
Was ich fühle, das begreift nur—
Die es mit fühlt,
Und die treu mir ewig,
Treu mir ewig, ewig bleibt.
Beside the Cradle
Sleep sound! Sleep sound
and dream of days to come,
‘Fore long to you unfurling,
Dream, my child, of joys and sorrows,
Dream of lovely things!
Many yet may come and go,
Yet more shall arise for you anew,
Be but good and patient!
Sleep sound! Sleep sound
and dream of spring’s violent force,
See all of the blooming and becoming,
Hark, how birdsong rings through the grove,
Love in Heaven, on Earth!
Today draws past and
cannot trouble you,
Yet your spring, too, shall bloom
and shimmer,
Be but good and patient!
Text: Karl Klingemann
Question
Is it true? Is it true?
That over there in the leafy walkway, you always
wait for me by the vine-draped wall?
And that with the moonlight and the little stars
you consult about me also?
Is it true? Speak!
What I feel, only she grasps—
she who feels with me,
and stays ever faithful to me,
eternally faithful.
English text: Emily Ezust
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TExts and translations
And’res Maienlied The Witch Song
Die Schwalbe fliegt,
The swallow soars,
Der Frühling siegt,
The spring outpours,
Und spendet uns Blumen zum Kranze! Her flowers for garlands entrancing!
Bald huschen wir
Soon shall we glide
Leis’ aus der Tür,
Away and ride,
Und fliegen zum prächtigen Tanze!
Hey-day, to the spirited dancing!
Ein schwarzer Bock,
A buck that’s black,
Ein Besenstock,
A broomstick o’ back,
Die Ofengabel, der Wocken;
The prangs of a poker will pitch us;
Reißt uns geschwind,
We’ll ride a steed,
Wie Blitz und Wind,
With light’ning speed,
Durch sausende Lüfte zum Brocken! Direct to the mountain of witches!
Um Beelzebub
The dancing bands
Tanzt unser Trupp
All kiss the hands
Und küßt ihm die kralligen Hände!
Like claws that belong to the devil!
Ein Geisterschwarm
While other swarms
Faßt uns beim Arm
Have grabbed our arms
Und schwinget im Tanzen die Brände! And brandish their torches in revel!
Und Beelzebub
Old Satan swears
Verheißt dem Trupp
To make repairs
Der Tanzenden Gaben auf Gaben;
With promise of marvelous pleasure;
Sie sollen schön
All spirits glad
In Seide geh’n
In silk are clad
Und Töpfe voll Goldes sich graben!
Unearthing great chestfuls of treasure!
Ein Feuerdrach’
A dragon flies
Umflieget das Dach,
Now down from the skies,
Und bringet uns Butter und Eier.
With presents of food for the table.
Die Nachbarn seh’n
The neighbors sight
Die Funken weh’n,
The sparks in flight
Und schlagen ein Kreuz vor dem Feuer. And cross themselves as fast as they’re able.
Die Schwalbe fliegt,
The swallow soars,
Der Frühling siegt,
The spring outpours,
Und Blumen entblühn um die Wette! Her flowers for garlands entrancing!
Bald huschen wir
Soon shall we glide
Leis’ aus der Tür,
Away and ride,
Und lassen die Männer im Bette!
Hey-day, to the spirited dancing!
English text: Vally Weigl
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TExts and translations
A Charm of Lullabies, op. 41
A Cradle Song
Sleep, sleep beauty bright,
Dreaming o’er the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep, in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
O! The cunning wiles that creep,
In thy little heart asleep.
When thy little heart does wake
Then the dreadful lightnings break.
From thy cheek and from thy eye,
O’er the youthful harvests nigh.
Infant wiles and infant smiles
Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.
By William Blake (1757–1827)
The Highland Balou
Hee Balou, my sweet wee Donald,
Picture o’ the great Clanronald!
Brawlie kens ours wanton Chief
What gat my young Highland thief.
(Hee Balou!)
Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie!
And thou live, thou’ll steal a naigie,
Travel the country thro’ and thro’,
and bring hame a Carlisle cow!
Thro’ the Lawlands, o’er the Border,
Weel, my babie, may thou furder!
Herry the louns o’ the laigh Countrie,
Syne to the Highlands hame to me!
By Robert Burns (1759–1796)
Sephestia’s Lullaby
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee.
Mother’s wag, pretty boy,
Father’s sorrow, father’s joy;
When thy father first did see
Such a boy by him and me,
He was glad, I was woe;
Fortune changed made him so,
When he left his pretty boy,
Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee.
The wanton smiled, the father wept,
Mother cried, baby leapt;
More he crow’d, more we cried,
Nature could not sorrow hide:
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bliss,
For he left his pretty boy,
Father’s sorrow, father’s joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee.
By Robert Greene (1558–1592)
A Charm
Quiet!
Sleep! or I will make
Erinnys whip thee with a snake,
And cruel Rhadamanthus take
Thy body to the boiling lake,
Where fire and brimstones never slake;
Thy heart shall burn, thy head shall ache,
And ev’ry joint about thee quake;
And therefor dare not yet to wake!
Quiet, sleep!
Quiet, sleep!
Quiet!
Quiet!
Sleep! or thou shalt see
The horrid hags of Tartary,
Whose tresses ugly serpents be,
And Cerberus shall bark at thee,
And all the Furies that are three,
The worst is called Tisiphone,
Shall lash thee to eternity;
And therefore sleep thou peacefully
Quiet, sleep!
Quiet, sleep!
Quiet!
By Thomas Randolph (1605–1635)
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TExts and translations
The Nurse’s Song
Lullaby baby,
Lullaby baby,
Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be.
Lullaby baby!
Be still, my sweet sweeting, no longer do cry;
Sing lullaby baby, lullaby baby.
Let dolours be fleeting, I fancy thee, I . . .
To rock and to lull thee I will not delay me.
Lullaby baby,
Lullabylabylaby baby,
Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be
Lullabylabylaby baby
The gods be thy shield and comfort in need!
The gods be thy shield and comfort in need!
Sing Lullaby baby,
Lullabylaby baby
They give thee good fortune and well for to speed,
And this to desire . . . I will not delay me.
This to desire . . . I will not delay me.
Lullaby lullabylaby baby,
Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be.
Lullabylabylabylaby baby.
By John Phillip (1566–1591)
Old American Songs
Simple Gifts
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis
the gift to be free
‘tis the gift to come down
where you ought to be
And when we find ourselves
in the place just right
‘Twill be in the valley of love
and delight.
When true simplicity is gained
To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed
To turn, turn will be our delight
‘Till by turning, turning we
come round right.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis
the gift to be free
‘tis the gift to come down
where you ought to be
And when we find ourselves
in the place just right
‘Twill be in the valley of love
and delight.
Shaker folk song
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Little Horses
Hush you bye,
Don’t you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake,
You shall have,
All the pretty little horses.
Blacks and bays,
Dapples and grays,
Coach and six-a little horses,
Hush you bye,
Don’t you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake,
You’ll have sweet cake and
All the pretty little horses.
A brown and gray and a black and a bay and a
Coach and six-a little horses.
Hush you bye,
Don’t you cry,
Oh you pretty little baby.
Go to sleepy little baby.
Oh you pretty little baby.
American folk song
At the River
Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel’s feet have trod,
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
Yes, we’ll gather by the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
Gather with the saints by the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Ere we reach the shining river
Lay we every burden down,
Praise our spirits will deliver
And provide our robe and crown.
Yes, we’ll gather at the river.
The beautiful, the beautiful, river.
Gather with the saints at the river,
That flows by the throne of God.
Soon we’ll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace.
Yes, we’ll gather by the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
Gather with the saints by the river
That flows by the throne of God.
By Robert Lowry (1826–1899)

Ching-a-Ring Chaw
Ching-a-ring-a ring ching ching,
Hoa dinga ding kum larkee,
Ching-a-ring-a ring ching ching,
Hoa ding kum larkee.
Brothers gather round,
Listen to this story,
‘Bout the promised land,
An’ the promised glory.
You don’ need to fear,
If you have no money,
You don’ need none there,
To buy you milk and honey.
There you’ll ride in style,
Coach with four white horses,
There the evenin’ meal,
Has one two three four courses.
Nights we all will dance
To the harp and fiddle,
Waltz and jig and prance,
“Cast off down the middle!”
When the mornin’ come,
All in grand splendor,
Stand out in the sun,
And hear the holy thunder.
Brothers hear me out,
The promised land’s a-comin’
Dance and sing and shout,
I hear them harps a strumming.’
Shéhérazade
Harris Collection of American Poetry
Asie
Asia
Asie, Asie, Asie!
Asia, Asia, Asia!
Vieux pays merveilleux des contes de nourrice Ancient, marvelous lands of nursery tales
Où dort la fantaisie comme une impératrice Where imagination sleeps like an empress
En sa forêt emplie de mystère.
In her forest, surrounded in mystery.
Asie,
Je voudrais m’en aller avec la goëlette
Qui se berce ce soir dans le port,
Mystérieuse et solitaire,
Et qui déploie enfin ses voiles violettes
Comme un immense oiseau
de nuit dans le ciel d’or.
TExts and translations
Three Early Songs
Night
How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor
stain
Breaks the serene of heaven:
In full-orbed glory yonder Moon divine
Rolls through the dark-blue depths.
Beneath her steady ray
The desert-circle spreads,
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky.
How beautiful is night!
Robert Southey (1774–1843)
Let It Be Forgotten
Let it be forgotten as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold.
Let it be forgotten forever and ever.
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
If anyone asks, say it was forgotten,
Long and long ago.
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed foot-fall
In a long forgotten snow.
Sarah Teasdale (1884–1933)
Wind Elegy (W.E.W.)
Only the wind knows he is gone,
Only the wind grieves,
The sun shines, the fields are sown,
Sparrows mate in the eaves;
But I heard the wind in the pines he planted
And the hemlocks overhead,
“His acres wake, for the year turns,
But he is asleep,” it said.
Teasdale
Asia,
I should like to leave with the schooner
Rocking tonight in the harbor,
Mysterious and alone,
And at last unfurling purple sails
Like a huge night bird
in the golden sky.
10

(Asie continued)
TExts and translations
Je voudrais m’en aller vers des îles de fleurs I should like to leave for the flower islands
En écoutant chanter la mer perverse Listening to the perverse ocean sing
Sur un vieux rythme ensorceleur.
To an old, bewitching rhythm.
Je voudrais voir Damas et les villes de Perse I should like to see Damascus and the cities of Persia
Avec les minarets légers dans l’air.
With light minarets in the air.
Je voudrais voir de beaux turbans de soie I should like to see beautiful silk turbans
Sur des visages noirs aux dents claires; Over dark faces with shining teeth;
Je voudrais voir des yeux sombres d’amour I should like to see eyes darkened with love
Et des prunelles brillantes de joie
And pupils shining with joy
Et des paux jaunes comme des oranges; Against skins golden as oranges;
Je voudrais voir des vêtements de velours I should like to see velvet clothes
Et des habits à longues franges.
And robes with long fringes.
Je voudrais voir des calumets entre des bouches I should like to see pipes in mouths
Tout entourées de barbe blanche;
Surrounded by white beards;
Je voudrais voir d’âpres marchands
I should like to see grasping merchants
aux regards louches,
with shady looks,
Et des cadis, et des vizirs,
And cadis and viziers,
Qui du seul mouvement
Who with a mere crook
de leur doigt qui se penche
of the finger
Accordent vie ou mort au gré de leur désir. Dispense life or death at will.
Je voudrais voir la Perse,
I should like to see Persia,
et l’Inde, et puis la Chine,
and India, and then China,
Les mandarins ventrus sous les ombrelles, Pot-bellied mandarins under umbrellas,
Et les princesses aux mains fines,
And princesses of slender hands,
Et les lettrés qui se querrellent
And scholars arguing
Sur la poésie et sur la beauté;
Over poetry and beauty;
Je voudrais m’attarder au palais enchanté I should like to linger in the enchanted palace
Et comme un voyageur étranger,
And, like a foreign traveler,
Contemple à loisir des paysages peints Contemplate at leisure painted landscapes
Sur des étoffes en des cadres de sapin On fabrics in pine-wood frames
Avec un personnage au milieu d’un verger; With a figure in the middle of an orchard;
Je voudrais voir des assassins souriants I should like to see assassins smiling
Du bourreau qui coupe un cou d’innocent As the executioner cuts off an innocent head
Avec son grand sabre courbé d’Orient. With his great curved oriental saber.
Je voudrais voir des pauvres et des reines; I should like to see paupers and queens;
Je voudrais voir des roses et du sang; I should like to see roses and blood;
Je voudrais voir mourir d’amour
I should like to see dying of love
ou bien de haine.
or else of hate.
Et puis m’en revenir plus tard
And then return to recount
Narrer mon aventure aux curieux de rêves, my adventures to those curious of dreams,
En élevant comme
Raising, like Sinbad,
Sinbad ma vieille tasse arabe
my old Arab cup
De temps en temps jusqu’à mes lèvres From time to time to my lips
Pour interrompre le conte avec art. . . . To interrupt the tale, artfully. . . .
Translations by D. Kern Holoman
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TExts and translations
La flûte enchantée
L’ombre est douce et mon maître dort,
Coiffé d’un bonnet conique de soie
Et son long nez jaune en sa barbe blanche.
Mais moi, je suis éveillée encor
Et j’écoute au dehors
Une chanson de flûte où s’épanche,
Tour à tour la tristesse ou la joie.
Un air tour à tour langoureux ou frivole
Que mon amoureux chéri joue,
Et quand je m’approche de la croisée
Il me semble que chaque note s’envole
De la flûte vers ma joue
Comme un mystérieux baiser.
The Enchanted Flute
The shadows are gentle, and my master sleeps,
Under his conical silk night cap
And his long yellow nose in his white beard.
But I am still awake
And I am listening
To a flute-song outside, from which pours,
By turns, sadness and joy.
A song by turns languorous or merry
That my dear love plays,
And when I go to the window
It seems to me that each note flies
From the flute to my cheek
Like a mysterious kiss.
L’indifférent
The Indifferent One
Tes yeux sont doux comme ceux d’une fille, Your eyes are gentle as a girl’s,
Jeune étranger,
Young stranger,
Et la courbe fine
And the delicate curve
De ton beau visage de duvet ombragé Of your beautiful face, shadowed with down,
Est plus séduisante encor de ligne.
Is yet more seductive of contour.
Ta lèvre chante sur le pas de ma porte On my doorstep your lips sing
Une langue inconnue et charmante
An unknown and charming language
Comme une musique fausse . . . Like music out of tune . . .
Entre!
Enter!
Et que mon vin te réconforte . . . And let my wine refresh you . . .
Mais non, tu passes,
But no, you pass,
Et de mon seuil je te vois
And from my doorsill I see you
t’éloigner
move away
Me faisant un dernier geste avec grâce , Making me a last gracious gesture,
Et la hanche légèrement ployée
And your hips lightly swing
Par ta démarche féminine et lasse. . . . In your languid, feminine gait. . . .
12

TExts and translations
5 Poems of Max Jacob
Chanson bretonne
Breton Song
J’ai perdu ma poulette
I’ve lost my little hen
Et j’ai perdu mon chat.
and I’ve lost my cat.
Je cours à la poudrette
I’ll run to the trash heap
Si Dieu me les rendra.
if God gives them back to me.
Je vais chez Jean le Coz
I will go see Jean le Coz
Et chez Marie Maria.
and Marie Maria.
Va-t’en voir chez Hérode
You go see Herod
Peut-être il le saura.
Maybe he will know.
Passant devant la salle
When I went by the room
Toute la ville était là
the whole town was there
À voir danser ma poule
to see my hen dancing
Avec mon petit chat.
with my little cat.
Tous les oiseaux champêtres
All the birds of the fields
Sur les murs et sur les toits
were playing the trumpet on the walls
Jouaient de la trompette
and the rooftops
Pour le banquet du roi.
for the king’s banquet.
Translations by Max Jacob (1876–1944)
Cimetière
Si mon marin vous le chassez,
Au cimetière vous me mettrez.
Rose blanche, rose blanche et rose rouge.
Ma tombe, elle est comme un jardin,
Comme un jardin, rouge et blanche.
Le dimanche vous irez, rose blanche,
Vous irez vous promener
Rose blanche et blanc muguet,
Tante Yvonne à la Toussaint,
Une couronne en fer peint
Elle apporte de son jardin
En fer peint avec des perles de satin,
Rose blanche et blanc muguet.
Si Dieu veut me ressusciter,
Au Paradis je monterai, rose blanche,
Avec un nimbe doré,
Rose blanche et blanc muguet.
Si mon marin revenait,
Rose rouge et rose blanche,
Sur ma tombe il vient auprès,
Rose blanche et blanc muguet.
Souviens-toi de notre enfance, rose blanche,
Quand nous jouions sur le quai,
Rose blanche et blanc muguet.
Cemetery
If you send my sailor away,
you’ll send me to my grave.
White rose, white rose and red.
My grave is like a garden,
like a garden, red and white.
On Sunday you will go walking,
white rose, white rose
and white lily of the valley.
On All Saints’ Day,
Aunt Yvonne carries
into her garden a wreath
of painted iron with satin beads,
white rose and white lily of the valley.
If God wishes to bring me back to life,
I will go to Heaven, white rose,
with a golden halo,
white rose and white lily of the valley.
If my sailor returns,
red rose and white,
he will come to my grave,
white rose and white lily of the valley.
Remember our childhood, white rose,
when we played on the wharf,
white rose and white lily of the valley.
13

TExts and translations
La petite servante
The Little Servant
Préservez-nous du feu et du tonnerre, Preserve us from fire and lightning,
Le tonnerre court comme un oiseau, Lightning runs like a bird,
Si c’est le Seigneur qui le conduit
If the Lord drives it
Bénis soient les dégats.
blessed be the damage.
Si c’est le diable qui le conduit
If the Devil drives it
Faites-le partir au trot d’ici.
drive him out of here at a trot.
Préservez-nous des dartres et des boutons, Preserve us from sores and pimples,
de la peste et de la lèpre.
plague and leprosy.
Si c’est pour ma pénitence que vous l’envoyez, If you have sent them to me for a penance,
Seigneur, laissez-la moi, merci.
Lord, leave them with me, thank you.
Si c’est le diable qui le conduit
If the Devil drives it
Faites-le partir au trot d’ici.
drive him out of here at a trot.
Goître, goître, sors de ton sac,
Goiter, goiter, jump out of your bag,
sors de mon cou et da ma tête!
leave my neck and my head!
Feu Saint Elme, danse de Saint Guy,
St. Elmo’s fire, St. Vitus’ dance,
Si c’est le Diable qui vous conduit
if it’s the Devil who drives you
mon Dieu faites le sortir d’ici.
God, drive him away from here.
Faites que je grandisse vite
Make me grow up fast
Et donnez-moi un bon mari
and give me a good husband
qui ne soit pas trop ivrogne
who isn’t too much of a drunkard
et qui ne me batte pas tous les soirs. and doesn’t beat me every night.
Berceuse
Ton père est à la messe,
Ta mère au cabaret.
Tu auras sur les fesses
Si tu vas encore crier.
Ma mère était pauvresse,
Sur la lande à Auray,
Et moi je fais des crêpes
En te berçant du pied.
Si tu mourais du croup,
Coliques ou diarrhées,
Si tu mourais des croûtes
Que tu as sur le nez,
Je pêcherais des crevettes
À l’heure de la marée.
Pour faire la soupe aux têtes
Y a pas besoin de crochets.
Lullaby
Your father is at Mass,
your mother at the cabaret.
You’ll have a spanking
if you cry again.
My mother was a poor woman,
on the plain of Auray,
and I make pancakes
and rock you with my foot.
If you died of the croup,
colic or diarrhea,
if you died of the crust
on your nose,
I would fish for shrimp
when the tide came in.
You don’t need hooks
to make fishhead chowder.
14

TExts and translations
Souric et Mouric
Souric et Mouric,
Rat blanc, souris noire,
Venus dans l’armoire
Pour apprendre à l’araignée
À tisser sur le métier
Un beau drap de toile.
Expédiez-le à Paris, à Quimper, à Nantes—
C’est de bonne vente!
Mettez les sous de côté,
Vous achèterez un pré,
Des pommiers pour la saison
Et trois belles vaches,
Un boeuf pour faire étalon.
Chantez, les rainettes,
Car voici la nuit qui vient.
La nuit on les entend bien,
Crapauds et grenouilles.
Écoutez, mon merle
Et ma pie qui parle.
Écoutez, toute la journée,
Vous apprendrez à chanter.
Souric and Mouric
Souric and Mouric,
white rat and black mouse,
came to the cupboard
to teach the spider
how to weave a beautiful sheet
of web on the loom.
Send it to Paris, Quimper, Nantes—
it will sell well!
Save your pennies,
and buy a field,
with apple trees for the season
and three fine cows,
and a bull for stud.
Sing, frogs,
for night is coming.
We hear them clearly at night,
toads and frogs.
Listen, my merle
and my talking magpie.
Listen all the day long,
and you will learn to sing.
Sasha Cooke, mezzo soprano
Grammy Award–winning mezzo soprano Sasha
Cooke caused a sensation at San Francisco Opera
in the world premiere of Mark Adamo’s The Gospel
of Mary Magdalene. “With her soaring and warm
voice, crystalline diction, and regal yet endearing
presence, Sasha Cooke as Mary is the glory of the
production” (San Francisco Examiner). Acclaimed
for her performances in symphony, opera, chamber
music, and recital, Cooke has been called “the
luminous standout” (New York Times) and “equal
parts poise, radiance, and elegant directness” (Opera News).
Cooke began the 2013–2014 season returning to the Hollywood
Bowl in Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 with Michael Tilson Thomas and the
Los Angeles Philharmonic. Other symphonic engagements this season
include appearances with Alan Gilbert and the New York Philharmonic
performing Britten’s Spring Symphony, Pierre Boulez and the Chicago
Symphony in Ravel and Stravinsky, performances of Mahler’s second
with both Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin under Tugan Sokhiev
and Columbus Symphony conducted by Jean Marie Zeituni, as well
as her debut with Indianapolis Symphony in Verdi’s Requiem with
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Krzystof Urbanski. Cooke will appear with her husband, baritone Kelly
Markgraf, on New Year’s Eve with the San Francisco Symphony. She also
makes debuts with the Philadelphia Orchestra under the baton of Cristian
Macelaru in Handel and the MDR Orchestra of Leipzig in Prokofiev and
Debussy with James Gaffigan conducting. Following a return to the Los
Angeles Philharmonic for Phillip Glass’s The Civil Wars with Grant Gershon,
Cooke will embark on a European tour with Michael Tilson Thomas and
the San Francisco Symphony performing Mahler’s Symphony No. 3.
Additional highlights include her debut with Opéra National de
Bordeaux as Smeton in Anna Bolena, her Wigmore Hall debut recital,
as well as chamber music performances with Chamber Music Society of
New York at Lincoln Center, Chamber Music Northwest, Celebrity Series
of Boston, Da Camera of Houston, Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival,
and Sejong Soloists in Goyang, Korea. As a recitalist, Cooke travels
to University of Little Rock Arkansas, Emory University, and Matinee
Musicale in Duluth, Minnesota. Contemporary works continue to be a
vital part of Cooke’s versatile career. She performs works this season by
John Harbison, Lowell Lieberman, and Mohammed Fairouz. Premieres
in future seasons include works by Jake Heggie, Laura Kaminsky, and
Mark Grey. As Kitty Oppenheimer in the Metropolitan premiere of John
Adam’s Doctor Atomic, Cooke was praised for “her fresh, vital portrayal,
bringing a luminous tone, a generously supported musical line, a keen
sense of verbal nuance, and a flair for seduction.” She reprised the role
in her European debut at the English National Opera. Her recent album,
If you love for beauty, with the Colburn Orchestra is available on Yarlung
Records.
Pei-Yao Wang, piano
Born in Taipei, Taiwan, Pei-Yao Wang was the
youngest pianist ever to receive the overall first
prize in the Taiwan National Piano Competition,
at age eight. Four years later, she was invited to
study at the Curtis Institute of Music, where she
worked with Seymour Lipkin and institute
director Gary Graffman. She then studied with
Claude Frank at Yale University, where she
received a master of music degree, and also
pursued a concentration in architecture. She
has performed as soloist with the Stamford
Symphony, Orlando Symphony, South Fingerlake Orchestra, and Taipei
Philharmonic. Wang has also performed throughout the United States,
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Canada, Europe, and Asia, including at venues such as Carnegie Hall, the
Kennedy Center, and Suntory Hall. As a chamber musician, Wang has
collaborated with members of the Guarneri, Orion, Chicago, Mendelssohn,
and Miró Quartets, and she has performed with other distinguished artists
such as Claude Frank, Hilary Hahn, David Shifrin, and Mitsuko Uchida.
She is also regularly invited to perform at festivals including Marlboro,
Caramoor, Norfolk, La Jolla, Ravinia, and Bridgehampton in New York.
She is a member of Chamber Music Society Two at Lincoln Center, a
program to promote emerging young artists. Wang resides in New York
City, where for several years she was the only student of Richard Goode.
The Flora Glenn Candler
Concerts Committee
Richard Patterson, Committee Chair, Department of Philosophy
Marshall Duke, Immediate Past Chair, Department of Psychology
Janice Akers, Theater Emory
Guy Benian, School of Medicine
Greg Catellier, Emory Dance
Bill Cody, Department of Political Science, Oxford College
Gray Crouse, Department of Biology
Kevin Karnes, Chair, Department of Music
David Kleinbaum, Rollins School of Public Health
Rosemary Magee, Vice President and Secretary of the University and
Director of the Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library (MARBL)
Robert McKay, Schwartz Center
Judith Rohrer, Department of Art History
Garth Tissol, Department of Classics
Schwartz Center Staff
Robert McKay, Director
Lisa Baron, Communications Specialist
Carrie Christie, Assistant Box Office Manager
Lewis Fuller, Operations Manager
Patricia Harris, Assistant Stage Manager
Becky Herring, Events Manager
Holley Mitchell, House Manager
Stephanie Patton, Box Office Manager
Katie Pittman, Associate Director for Programming
Mark Teague, Stage Manager
Nina Vestal, House Manager
Matt Williamson, Technical Coordinator
The Schwartz Center gratefully acknowledges the
generous ongoing support of Donna and Marvin Schwartz.
Center for Creativity and Arts
Marketing Team
Rachael Walters, Marketing Manager
Nicholas P. Surbey, Communications Coordinator
17

Friends of Music
executive committee members
Ray DuVarney, President
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members (continued)
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