The 25th -- and final -- Annual Spring Recital

An Evening of Music by Leslie Crabtree

Jane Bishop, soprano Darlene Moak, mezzo-soprano

Leslie Crabtree, composer and accompanist

1. William Shakespeare: Sonnet 29 ("When in disgrace...")

2. William Blake: The Lamb

3. Archibald Lampman: In Beechwood Cemetery (duet)

4. Yulia Drunina: Ты рядом (Ty ryadom -- You're beside me)

5. Johann von Goethe: Nähe des Geliebten (in English) (Ms. Moak)

6. St. John the Evangelist: The Christmas Gospel (in Greek)

7. Lope de Vega: How to write a Sonnet (in Spanish)

8. William Shakespeare: Sonnet 73 ("That time of year...")

9. Emily Dickinson: Why do they shut me out of Heaven? (Ms. Moak)

10. Aleksandr Pushkin: Заклинание (Zaklinaniye -- Exorcism)

11. Cécile Cloutier: Two Songs from "Mains de Sable"

12. Rainer Maria Rilke: Gott spricht...(God speaks...)

13. William Shakespeare and Jane Bishop: Three Scenes from “Measure for Measure”

Mariana's Lament from Act I (Ms. Moak)

“To whom shall I complain?”, Isabella's Act I aria

“The garden will be silent”, the closing Act II duet

14. St. Paul and John Donne: Death be not proud (in Greek and English)

15. J.R.R. Tolkien: Song from "Lord of the Rings"

Please keep in touch: www.crabtree.narod.ru


Sonnet 29

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,

Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

The Lamb

Little Lamb, who made thee? Little Lamb, I'll tell thee;

Dost thou know who made thee? Little Lamb, I'll tell thee;

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed He is callèd by thy name,

By the stream and o'er the mead; For he calls himself a Lamb.

Gave thee clothing of delight, He is meek, and he is mild;

Softest clothing, wooly, bright; He became a little child.

Gave thee such a tender voice, I a child, and thou a lamb,

Making all the fields rejoice? We are callèd by his name.

Little Lamb, who made thee: Little Lamb, God bless thee!

Dost thou know who made thee? Little Lamb, God bless thee!

In Beechwood Cemetery

Here the dead sleep -- the quiet dead. No sound

Disturbs them ever, and no storm dismays.

Winter mid snow caresses the tired ground,

And the wind roars about the woodland ways.

Springtime and summer and red autumn pass,

With leaf and bloom and pipe of wind and bird,

And the old earth puts forth her tender grass,

By them unfelt, unheeded and unheard.

Our centuries to them are but as strokes

In the dim gamut of some far-off chime.

Unaltering rest their perfect being cloaks --

A thing too vast to hear or feel or see --

Children of Silence and Eternity,

They know no season but the end of time.


Ty – ryadom

Ty – ryadom, i fsyo prekrasno: You're beside me and everything is wonderful --

I dozhd, I kholodny vyeter. Even if it's raining or there's a cold wind.

Spasibo tebye, moy yasni, Thank you, my bright one,

Za to, shto ty yest na svyete. For being on this earth.

Spasibo za eti goobi, Thank you for these lips,

Spasibo za rooki eti. Thank you for these hands,

Spasibo tebye, moy loobi, Thank you, my loved one,

Za to, shto ty yest na svyete. For being on this earth.

Ty – ryadom, a vyed mogli by You're beside me; but see, we might

Droog drooga sovsyem nye fstryetit… Absolutely not have met one another...

Yedinstvenny moy, spasibo My only one: thank you

Za to, shto ty yest na svyete. For being on this earth.

Nearness of the Beloved

I think of you when on the river's shimmer

The sunlight gleams;

I think of you when on the ocean's glimmer

The moonlight streams.

I hear your voice within the ocean's whisper

As waves arise.

To quiet woods I often go and listen

When all is still.

I am with you, no matter you are far.

You are so near!

The sun has set. Now comes each heaven's star.

Oh, were you here!

The Christmas Gospel

En arkhay ayn ho Logos, In the beginning was the Word,

Kai ho Logos ayn pros ton Theon, and the Word was with God,

kai Theos ayn ho Logos. and the Word was God.

Houtos ayn en arkhay pros ton Theon. He was in the begining with God.

Panta di'autou egeneto, Everything came into being through Him,

kai khoris autou egeneto and without Him there came into being

oude hen ho gegonen. no thing that came into being.

En auto zoay ayn, In Him was life,

kai hay zoay ayn to phos ton anthropon. and the life was the light of all people.

Kai to phos en tay skotia phainei, And the light shines in the darkness,

kai hay skotia auto ou katelaben. and the darkness did not overcome it.

Ayn to phos to alaythinon, It was the true light,

ho photidzei panta anthropon Which shines on every person

erkhomenon eis ton kosmon. coming into the world.

Kai ho Logos sarx egeneto, And the Word became flesh

kai eskaynosen en hemin, and dwelt among us,

plairayss kharitos kai alaytheias. full of grace and truth.

How to Write a Sonnet

Un soneto me manda hacer Violante, My Violet asks that I should write a sonnet:

que en mi vida me he visto en tanto aprieto; I've not done such a thing in all my life.

catorce versos dicen que es soneto, They say a sonnet must have fourteen lines,

burla burlando van los tres delante. What fun! already three of them are done.

Yo pensé que no hallara consonante, I thought I wouldn't find the words to fit,

y estoy a la mitad de otro cuarteto; But here I am in quartet Number 2;

mas si me veo en el primer terceto, If I can get to tercet Number 1,

no hay cosa en los cuartetos que me espante. I won't have more to fear from the quartets.

Por el primer terceto voy entrando, So here I'm starting in upon the first,

y parece que entre con pie derecho, It seems I'm starting in on the right foot,

pues fin con esto verso le voy dando. And with this line, I see that it is finished.

Y estoy en el segundo y aun sospecho, I'm in the second one and I suspect

que voy los trece versos acabando; that I am writing this, the thirteenth line;

contad si son catorce, y está hecho. And if the count is fourteen, then it’s done!

Sonnet 73

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold;

Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see’st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west;

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.

This thou perceivst, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Why do they shut me out of Heaven?

Why— do they shut Me out of Heaven?

Did I sing too loud?

But— I can say a little “Minor”

Timid as a Bird!

Wouldn’t the Angels try me—

Just—once—more,

Just—see— if I troubled them—

But don’t—shut the door!

Oh, if I—were the Gentleman

In the “White Robe”—

And they—were the little Hand—

That knocked—could— I—forbid?

Why—do they shut Me out of Heaven?

Did I sing too loud?

Zaklinaniye Exorcism

O yesslee pravda shto f nochee, O if it's true that in the night,

Kogda pokoyatsa zhiviye When living things are resting,

Ee s nyeba looniye loochee And from heaven the moon's rays

Skolzyat na kamni groboviye, Slide across the gravestones,

O yesslee pravda shto togda O if it's true that at that time

Poosteyoot tikhiye mogily,-- The quiet graves open,--

Ya tyen zovoo, ya zhdoo Leyily: I call a ghost, await Leyila:

Ko mnye, moy droog, sooda, sooda! To me, my friend, hither, hither!

Yavees, vozlyooblennaya tyen, Appear, beloved spirit,

Kak ty byla pyered razlookoi, As you were before our separation,

Bledna,khladna,kak zimni dyen, Pale, cold, like a winter day,

Eeskazhena posledney rookoi. Disfigured by the final torment.

Preedee kak dalnaya zvyezda, Approach like a distant star,

Kak lyokhi zvook eel doonovenye, Like a light sound or breath,

Eel kak oozhasnoye veedenye, Or like a dreadful vision,

Mnye fsyoh ravno: sooda,sooda!.. I do not care: hither, hither!..

Zovoo tebya nye dlya tovo, I call you not so that I can

Shtob ookoryat loodyay chya zloba Reproach those whose evil

Oobeela drooga moyevo, Killed my friend,

Eel shtob eezvyedat tainy groba Nor probe the secrets of the grave

Nye dlya tovo, shto eenogda Nor because sometimes

Somnyenyem moochoos; no toskooya Doubts torment me; but in pain

Khochoo skazat sto fcyo lyoobloo ya I want to say: I love you wholly,

Shto fsyo ya tvoy: sooda, sooda! I'm wholly yours: hither, hither!

15

Dans une population In a population

De couleurs Of colours

Le geste gris The gray gesture

D’un soir Of an evening

Sur une cité d’adjectifs Over a city of abolished

Abolis Adjectives

19: Soir Evening

Soir Evening

Dieu a caché son poing God has hidden his fist

Dans la corolle d’une fleur In the center of a flower

Pour la nuit For the night


Gott spricht...

Gott spricht zu jedem nur, eh er ihn macht, God speaks to each, before he makes him,
dann geht er schweigend mit ihm aus der Nacht. then goes silently with him out of the darkness.
Aber die Worte, eh jeder beginnt, But the words, before each one starts,
diese wolkigen Worte, sind: these cloudy words, are:

Von deinen Sinnen hinausgesandt, Driven by your senses,
geh bis an deiner Sehnsucht Rand; go to the edge of your longing;
gieb mir Gewand. give me clothing.
Hinter den Dingen wachse als Brand, Shoot up like a torch behind things,
dass ihre Schatten, ausgespannt, that their shadows, extended,
immer mich ganz bedecken. may always adorn me.

Lass dir Alles geschehn: Schönheit und Schrecken. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terrors.
Man muss nur gehn: Kein Gefühl ist das fernste. One must only go on: no feeling is the ultimate.


Lass dich von mir nicht trennen. Do not separate yourself from me.


Nah ist das Land, Near is the land
das sie das Leben nennen. that they call life.

Du wirst es erkennen You will know it
an seinem Ernste. by its seriousness.

Gieb mir die Hand. Give me your hand.

Mariana’s Lament

Take, O, take those lips away,

That so sweetly were forsworn;

And those eyes, the break of day,

Lights that do mislead the morn;

But my kisses bring again, bring again,

Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, seal'd in vain.

Angelo! I thought ‘twas Heaven

When to wed you seemed my fate;

Why did all my tender fondness

Summon forth disgust and hate?

O to have that promised marriage,

In your arms one hour to lie;

Then content I’d face the future,

Gladly live or gladly die!

Isabella’s Aria

To whom can I complain?....

Who’d believe this?...

I thought he was cruel but just,

I thought I could count on his virtue:

He asks me to yield to his lust!


Though Nature prompts love for our sibling,

Our vows are recorded on high,

Our chastity’s more than our brother,

And therefore, poor Claudio, die.

I’ll go now and tell him; despite how he’s fallen,

He’d never choose life at the price of my shame;

Let Claudio perish to safeguard our honour,

And Angelo writhe in God’s punishing flame!

The Garden will be Silent

(Isabella:) (Mariana:)

The garden will be silent, The garden will be silent,

The darkness will deceive; The darkness will deceive;

"Remember now my brother" "Remember now my brother"

You'll whisper as you leave. I'll whisper as I leave.

And you will have your love, And I will have my love,

And I will keep my vow; And you will keep your vow;

And we will save my brother's life, And we will save your brother's life,

And Good will triumph now. And Good will triumph now.

Death, be not proud

"The last enemy to be overcome will be death."

--St. Paul, First Letter to the Corinthians, 15:26

Eskhatos ekhthros katargeitai ho thanatos. The last enemy to be overcome will be death.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor death; nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow.

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and souls' delivery.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more: death, thou shalt die.


Song from "The Lord of the Rings"

In western lands beneath the Sun Though here at journey's end I lie

The flowers may rise in Spring, In darkness buried deep,

The trees may bud, the waters run, Beyond all towers strong and high,

The merry finches sing. Beyond all mountains steep,

Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night Above all shadows rides the Sun

And swaying beeches wear, And Stars forever dwell:

The Elven-stars as jewels white I will not say the day is done,

Amid their branching hair. Nor bid the Stars farewell.