Darielle Chomyn Voice Graduation Recital Lyrics and Translations

April 10, 2023

U sn’i men’i marylos’ nebo
In my dreams I saw heavens bespangled,
With silvery stars all adorned,
And pale green sorrowing willows drooping low o’er the pale blue pond.
I saw in syringa embowered a cottage, and thou my heart’s Dove—
And bowed was thy little curly head,
My beautiful sad pale Love!
Thou wert weeping, the teardrops shining
Were flowing from thy yearning gaze,
For love the roses wept also,
For joy sobbed the nightingale.
And every tear found consoling—
A greeting from near and from far,
The garden was lit by a glowworm,
Enraptured the heavens a star!

Má píseň zas mi láskou zní
My song resounds, a psalm of love
when day begins to fade,
and when the moss and withered grass
secretly drink in pearls of dew.
My song resounds full of wanderlust
in the green of lofty forests,
only on the puszta’s wide plains
can I sing out happily.
My song is also full of love,
as storms rage across the heath;
when the breast of my friend heaves,
as he breathes his last!

Aj! Kterak trojhranec můj
Hey! How my triangle rings out in splendour!
How easy to approach death with such a sound!
One can approach death to the sound of the triangle!
No more singing, loving and dancing!

O ne dyvujs!
Oh, don’t be surprised the night is so blue...
I knew this night that you would come out,
And that's why she's so friendly
Clear and tender without end...
Oh, don't be surprised that the incense is around,
What the flowers look like withered,
This night your forehead blooms with them
And they weave wreaths for you.
Oh, don't be surprised that there are so many stars in the sky,
What night is so transparent silver mist,
This night is clear for you
I also poured silver for you.

Die stille Stadt
A town lies in the valley,
a pale day is fading;
it will not be long
before neither moon nor stars
but night alone will deck the skies.
From every mountain
mists weigh on the town;
no roof, no courtyard, no house
no sound can penetrate the smoke,
scarcely towers and bridges even.
But as fear seized the traveller,
a gleam appeared in the valley;
and through the smoke and mist
came a faint song of praise
from a child's lips.

In meines Vaters Garten
In my father’s garden –
blossom, O my heart, blossom –
In my father’s garden
grew a shady apple tree –
Sweet dream –
grew a shady apple tree.
Three blond princesses –
blossom, O my heart, blossom –
three wonderfully beautiful girls
slept beneath the apple tree –
Sweet dream –
slept beneath the apple tree.
The youngest of the three beauties –
blossom, O my heart, blossom –
the youngest of the three beauties
blinked and hardly awoke –
Sweet dream –
blinked and hardly awoke.
The second ran her hand through her hair –
blossom, O my heart, blossom –
Saw the red morning dream –
Sweet dream –
She said: ‘Don’t you hear the drums?
blossom, O my heart, blossom –
Sweet dream –
Brightly through the dawn?
My beloved is going to war
blossom, O my heart, blossom –
My beloved is going to war,
Kisses as victor the hem of my dress
Sweet dream –
Kisses the hem of my dress.
The third spoke, and spoke so quietly –
blossom, O my heart, blossom –
The third spoke and spoke so quietly:
I kiss the hem of my beloved’s coat –
Sweet dream –
I kiss the hem of my beloved’s coat.
In my father’s garden –
blossom, O my heart, blossom –
In my father’s garden
stands a sunny apple tree –
Sweet dream –
stands a sunny apple tree.

Laue Sommernacht
Mild summer night: in the sky
Not a star, in the deep forest
We sought each other in the dark
And found one another.
Found one another in the deep wood
In the night, the starless night,
And amazed, we embraced
In the dark night.
Our entire life – was it not
Such a tentative quest?
There: into its darkness,
O Love, fell your light.

Bei dir ist es traut
I feel warm and close with you:
clocks strike hesitantly,
like they did in distant days.
Say something loving to me -
but not aloud.
A gate opens somewhere
out in the burgeoning.
Evening listens at the window-panes.
Let us stay quiet,
no one knows us thus.

Ich wandle unter Blumen
I wander among flowers
And blossom with them;
I wander as in a dream
And sway with every step.
O, hold me fast, beloved!
Or drunk with love
I’ll fall at your feet –
And the garden is full of folk.

Su l’onda tremola
Flickering on the waves, the moon laughs,
Silence reigns on the lagoon
Beatrice, there my little boat waits for you,
But why do you tremble?
What do you fear?
He knows how to row, that gondolier, this boat, the son of Cyprus
Come, already joy floods my soul.
I don't want to return, Beatrice, to these shores.
I don't want a throne, if I'm with you,
Come, I forget, when on the sea amid the winds,
That your sweetest oaths are more unstable than the wind and sea.
Beatrice, the moon smiles on the waves,
he knows how to row, the son of Cyprus.

Asturiana
To see if it might console me
I drew near a green pine.
To see me weep, it wept.
And the pine, since it was green,
wept to see me weeping!

Con amores la mi madre
Due to your love, mother,
With loving, I fell asleep;
While sleeping, I dreamed
What was in my waking heart,
That love consoled me
More than I deserved.
I was lulled to sleep through the favor
Of your love given to me lovingly;
I was allowed to relax from my pain
Through faith which supports me
Due to your love, mother,
With love, I fell asleep!

A Chloris
If it be true, Chloris, that you love me,
(And I'm told you love me dearly),
I do not believe that even kings
Can match the happiness I know.
Even death would be powerless
To alter my fortune
With the promise of heavenly bliss!
All that they say of ambrosia
Does not stir my imagination
Like the favour of your eyes!

Mandoline
The gallant serenaders
And their fair listeners
Exchange sweet nothings
Beneath singing boughs.
Tirsis is there, Aminte is there,
And tedious Clitandre too,
And Damis who for many a cruel maid
Writes many a tender song.
Their short silken doublets,
Their long trailing gowns,
Their elegance, their joy,
And their soft blue shadows
Whirl madly in the rapture
Of a grey and roseate moon,
And the mandolin jangles on
In the shivering breeze.

Aspects of Winter
In the quiet winter of my love,
you are the whispering storm
Now gentle, soft as falling snow
Now wild and driver,
passions hotly dancing in the winter wind.
You are stillness.
Clear black nights.
Ebony rising and the fading frenzy of your love for me.
For in the silence is the storm and through the blackness
shines the all embracing whiteness of the snow.

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park
Spring is here,
spring is here
Life is skittles and life is beer
I think the loveliest time of the year is spring
I do, don't you?
Course you do.
But there's one thing that makes spring complete for me,
and makes every Sunday a treat for me.
All the world seems in tune on a spring afternoon
when we’re poisoning pigeons in the park.
Every Sunday you'll see my sweet heart and me
as we poison the pigeons in the park.
When they see us coming, the birdies all try and hide,
but they still go for peanuts when coated with cyanide.
The sun's shining bright, everything seems alright
when were poisoning pigeons in the park.
We've gained notoriety and caused much anxiety
in the Audubon Society with our games.
They call it impiety, and lack of society,
and quite a variety of unpleasant names.
But it's not against any religion
to want to dispose of a pigeon.
So if Sunday you're free, why don't you come with me,
and we'll poison the pigeons in the park.
And maybe we'll do in a squirrel or two,
while we're poisoning pigeons in the park.
We'll murder them all amid laughter and merriment,
except for the few we take home to experiment
my pulse will be quickenin' with each drop of strychnine we feed to a pigeon,
it just takes a smidgin,
to poison a pigeon in the park!

Love in the Dictionary
Love: A strong, complex emotion
or feeling of personal attachment,
causing one to appreciate, delight in, or crave the presence
or possession of the object,
and to please and promote the welfare of that object;
devoted affection or attachment;
specifically, the feeling between husband and wife;
brother and sister;
or lover and sweetheart;
One who is beloved;
a sweetheart;
animal passion;
the personification of the love-passion;
Cupid;
in some games, as tennis, nothing.

The Audience Song
The people of the opera world
whose stars are shining bright
have very special qualities, it’s true.
But the people of the opera world we tend to slight,
are the people in the audience, that’s you!
So here’s a list of all your qualities,
which I’ll present now as a toast.
It’s a demographic study (though it might seem like a roast).
Still, I’m sure you won’t be sore
and I know that when I’m done you will love me as before.
Cause we’ll all have so much fun!
Quality number one,
you’re wise, so wise, and all that that implies.
In other words, if truth be told, you are in general very…
Oh well, let’s do number two,
you’re sensible and fair.
In other words you’re square.
But you can quickly prove them wrong and name the latest hip hop song.
Well there, you see, but let’s move on to number three,
and this applies to those people who arise within the opera mise en scene,
these groups of dapper single men.
A mystery they prose for no one really knows
what passion drives the daring lives of men who come without their wives.
It bothers me particularly because they go backstage,
you see, and laugh and joke and stay out late,
but never ask me for a date!
But now I’m getting sore, let’s move on to number four,
which is divine for this item next in line,
is your quality of recognizing qualities of mine!
Like my Straussian nobility, ah!
My Mozartian facility, ah!
And my boundless versatility, ah!
Not to mention my humility.
One more item left to go and this of course we know,
you love the past when families held fast
and in your favourite operas you find people who love family too
like Siegmund and Sieglinde do
(Well, not the next example, true…)
Oh well… but wait!
This thing’s way out of date!
But of course today there’d only be a single word, diversity!
For you are young and old and gay and straight
and left and right and what’s so great is how you all appreciate
the wonders of the opera, the quality of opera,
the miracle this music can create.
Now all that’s left to do is say before I’m through,
that miracles come true.
But only because, yes, only because of you!