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Thread: Melody of the day

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    Sibelius: Christmas Songs op. 1, No. 4: En etsi valtaa loistoa



    Sävel: Jean Sibelius
    Sanat: Sakari Topelius

    En etsi valtaa, loistoa,
    en kaipaa kultaakaan,
    ma pyydän taivaan valoa
    ja rauhaa päälle maan.
    Se joulu suo, mi onnen tuo
    ja mielet nostaa Luojan luo.
    Ei valtaa eikä kultaakaan,
    vaan rauhaa päälle maan.

    Suo mulla maja rauhaisa
    ja lasten joulupuu,
    Jumalan sanan valoa,
    joss´ sieluin kirkastuu.
    Tuo kotihin, jos pieneenkin,
    nyt joulujuhla suloisin,
    Jumalan sanan valoa
    ja mieltä jaloa.

    Luo köyhän niinkuin rikkahan
    saa, joulu ihana!
    Pimeytehen maailman
    tuo taivaan valoa!
    Sua halajan, sua odotan,
    sa Herra maan ja taivahan.
    Nyt köyhän niinkuin rikkaan luo
    suloinen joulus tuo!


    Translation:

    1. I seek no gold or majesty,
    no pearl or shining gem,
    but Lord above, I pray to Thee
    for peace on earth to men.
    O Lord divine, my heart is Thine!
    Oh, let my thoughts to Thee incline!
    I seek no pearl or shining gem
    but peace on earth to men.

    2. Among the children, in our home,
    give blessed harmony.
    The light that on the shepherds shone,
    oh, let it shine on me!
    O word of light, O truth and might,
    oh, shed thy blessing glad and bright.
    O word of grace and pardon free:
    give peace and harmony.

    3. Let Christmas come to rich and poor,
    its brilliant light unfold
    and with the wealth of God allure
    to heaven's streets of gold.
    I long for Thee, I wait for Thee,
    O Lord, I need Thy charity!
    May rich and poor alike abide
    in peace at Christmastide!
    "Music is an art, and art is forever. Music should not succumb to fashion, which is passing and forgotten."
    Glazunov


    Join TC's Official Russian Composer Fanclub!

    Oh, and, here's my professional website!

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  3. #77
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    Joan Sutherland - Dvorak

    Songs my mother taught me, In the days long vanished;
    Seldom from her eyelids were the teardrops banished.
    Now I teach my children, each melodious measure.
    Oft the tears are flowing, oft they flow from my memory's treasure.
    First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.
    "Mahatma Gandhi"

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    Senior Member Metairie Road's Avatar
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    I've never seen a picture of Beethoven smiling, but I'll bet he was smiling when he wrote this. It brings a smile to my face.

    From a CD of Beethoven's folk song arrangements.

    Paddy O'Rafferty



    Paddy O'Rafferty, merry and vigorous,
    Laugh'd at his lot, tho' 'twas somewhat too rigorous;
    Poor was his prize from the wheel of life's lottery,
    Turning the wheel in old Dennis Keogh's pottery.
    Still he kept turning, and still the clay tapering,
    Grew a black pot to hold ink for white paper in,
    Sometimes a brown jar to hoard a small pension in,
    Sometimes, faith, something not worth a word's mentioning.

    Arrah, quoth Paddy, and so goes the round about,
    So come those fortunes they make such a sound about,
    Some in their save-alls their thousands are gathering,
    Some from these ink-pots great families fathering.
    So Mister Keogh I no longer will stay with ye,
    Luck, whispers Paddy, take heart and away with ye,
    Stout are your limbs, a good countenance carrying,
    Why should not Paddy catch money by marrying?

    Pat took the hint and gambol'd like a mountebank,
    Small were his dealings with town or with county bank,
    Short his accounts were, and no need of docqueting,
    Light was his money-bag, easy in pocketing.
    Up with his bundle, his trusty stick shouldering,
    Set them, quoth Pat, stay at home and be mouldering;
    But a smooth shilling I'd willingly now wager,
    Paddy O'Rafferty hooks an old dowager.

    Best wishes and Merry Christmas
    Metairie Road
    Last edited by Metairie Road; Dec-19-2015 at 12:24.

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    Frag nicht warum ich gehe - Jonas Kaufmann




    Frag' nicht, warum ich gehe (Das Lied ist aus) Songtext
    Frag nicht, warum ich gehe, frag nicht warum
    Was immer auch geschehe, frag nicht warum
    Ich kann dir nur mehr sagen, ich hab dich lieb
    Das Schönste im Leben wollt ich dir geben

    Frag mich bloß nicht das eine, frag nicht warum
    Frag nicht, warum ich weine, frag nicht warum
    Wir gehen auseinander, morgen küsst dich die andre
    Dann wirst du nicht mehr fragen, warum

    Das Lied ist aus, das du für mich gesungen
    Beim letzten Klang war mir nach dir so bang
    Das Lied ist aus, die Melodie verklungen
    Nichts blieb von der Musik zurück
    Ein Echo nur von Liebe

    Die Rosen die du mir gebracht,
    Sind jetzt ein welker Blumenstrauß â€“ das Lied ist aus

    Frag nicht, warum ich gehe, frag nicht warum
    Was immer auch geschehe, frag nicht warum
    Ich kann dir nur mehr sagen, ich hab dich lieb
    Das Schönste im Leben wollt ich dir geben

    Frag mich bloß nicht das eine, frag nicht warum
    Frag nicht, warum ich weine, frag nicht warum
    Wir gehen auseinander, morgen küsst dich die andre
    Dann wirst du nicht mehr fragen, warum

    Do not ask why I go (The song is from) Lyrics
    Do not ask why I go, do not ask why
    Whatever happen, do not ask why
    I can tell you more, I love you
    The best thing in my life I want to give you

    Ask me not just one thing, do not ask why
    Do not ask why I cry, do not ask why
    We differ, tomorrow you kisses the other
    Then you will no longer ask why

    The song is from, you sang for me
    The last sound I was so afraid for you
    The song is from, faded melody
    Nothing remained of the music
    An echo only of love

    The roses that you brought me,
    Are now a wilted bouquet â € "the song is over

    Do not ask why I go, do not ask why
    Whatever happen, do not ask why
    I can tell you more, I love you
    The best thing in my life I want to give you

    Ask me not just one thing, do not ask why
    Do not ask why I cry, do not ask why
    We differ, tomorrow you kisses the other
    Then you will no longer ask why
    First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.
    "Mahatma Gandhi"

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    Senior Member Tsaraslondon's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Pugg View Post


    Joan Sutherland - Dvorak

    Songs my mother taught me, In the days long vanished;
    Seldom from her eyelids were the teardrops banished.
    Now I teach my children, each melodious measure.
    Oft the tears are flowing, oft they flow from my memory's treasure.
    Well this took me by surprise. I'm guessing it was taped in the late 1950s or early 1960s. Her style is so clean here, the tone forwardly produced, and, consequently, her diction is much clearer than it was to become. She maintains her legato without resorting to the droopy portamenti that crept in later, and deprived much of her singing of rhythmic drive.

    To understand what I mean, compare the Dvorak to, say, her singing of It Came Upon The Midnight Clear on her Christmas album. Barely a note is hit cleanly as she gives each note at the top of the phrase a little slide, and the words are practically unintelligible even when you know what she is singing.



    The beauty of the voice is still arresting of course, and there are other delights such as the introduction of a perfect little trill at the end, and some lovely gradations of tone colour, but this habit of not hitting notes cleanly becomes, and I emphasise this is my own personal take, very irritating.

    Her manner in the Dvorak is much simpler, and, to my mind, consequently more affecting.
    "It's not enough to have a beautiful voice." Maria Callas

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    Duparc: L'Invitation au Voyage sung by Gerard Souzay



    L'invitation au Voyage

    Mon enfant, ma sœur,
    Songe à la douceur
    D'aller là-bas vivre ensemble,
    Aimer à loisir,
    Aimer et mourir
    Au pays qui te ressemble.
    Les soleils mouillés
    De ces ciels brouillés
    Pour mon esprit ont les charmes
    Si mystérieux
    De tes traîtres yeux,
    Brillant à travers leurs larmes.
    Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
    Luxe, calme et volupté.

    Vois sur ces canaux
    Dormir ces vaisseaux
    Dont l'humeur est vagabonde;
    C'est pour assouvir
    Ton moindre désir
    Qu'ils viennent du bout du monde.
    Les soleils couchants
    Revêtent les champs,
    Les canaux, la ville entière,
    D'hyacinthe et d'or;
    Le monde s'endort
    Dans une chaude lumière!
    Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
    Luxe, calme et volupté.

    Charles Baudelaire

    Invitation to the Voyage

    My child, my sister1,
    think of the sweetness
    of going there to live together!
    To love at leisure,
    to love and to die
    in a country that is the image of you!
    The misty suns
    of those changeable skies
    have for me the same
    mysterious charm
    as your fickle eyes
    shining through their tears.
    There, all is harmony and beauty,
    luxury, calm and delight.

    See how those ships,
    nomads by nature,
    are slumbering in the canals.
    To gratify
    your every desire
    they have come from the ends of the earth.
    The westering suns
    clothe the fields,
    the canals, and the town
    with reddish-orange and gold.
    The world falls asleep
    bathed in warmth and light.
    There, all is harmony and beauty,
    luxury, calm and delight.

    © 2000 by Peter Low

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    Dame Joan Sutherland; The last rose from: Martha
    Last edited by Pugg; Dec-22-2015 at 09:02.
    First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.
    "Mahatma Gandhi"

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    Default Home, Sweet Home

    At this time of the year, please enjoy the melancholy of this melody by one of the Greatest Sopranos: Rosa Ponselle


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    Dear Pug,

    This is soooo lovely!
    Quote Originally Posted by Pugg View Post


    Frag nicht warum ich gehe - Jonas Kaufmann

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    Senior Member Blancrocher's Avatar
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    Berio: Folk Songs, for mezzosoprano and small ensemble (Stella Doufexis)

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    Default Elegie - Massenet

    The softness, sweet and expressive of the voice combined with longing but lovely legato lines, I think, is ideal to carry out the infinite sadness of -Elegie - by Massenet.

    Another magnificent piece of Rosa Ponselle!


    [/QUOTE]

    Lyrics

    Élégie - Language: French (Français)


    Ô, doux printemps d'autre fois, vertes saisons,
    Vous avez fui pour toujours!
    Je ne vois plus le ciel bleu;
    Je n'entends plus les chants joyeux des oiseaux!
    En emportant mon bonheur, mon bonheur...
    Ô bien-amé, tu t'en es allé!
    Et c'est en vain que [le printemps revient!]1
    Oui, sans retour,
    avec toi, le gai soleil,
    Les jours riants sont partis!
    Comme en mon coeur tout est sombre et glacé!
    Tout est flétri
    pour toujours!

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    Senior Member Blancrocher's Avatar
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    A very nice thread you've started here, helenora--Merry Christmas!

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    Senior Member helenora's Avatar
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    Thank you Blancrocher! Merry Christmas to you and everyone!

    PS at the moment I'm listening to quite different songs or better to say dancing under their accompaniment and it will go on till the New Year I think .....
    can't even post here , way too off-topic
    Man muss das Leben tanzen

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    Eleanor Steber: Knoxville Summer of 1915 by Samuel Barber






    Knoxville: Summer of 1915
    It has become that time of evening
    when people sit on their porches,
    rocking gently and talking gently
    and watching the street
    and the standing up into their sphere
    of possession of the tress,
    of birds’ hung havens, hangars.
    People go by; things go by.
    A horse, drawing a buggy,
    breaking his hollow iron music on the asphalt:
    a loud auto: a quiet auto:
    people in pairs, not in a hurry,
    scuffling, switching their weight of aestival body,
    talking casually,
    the taste hovering over them of vanilla,
    strawberry, pasteboard, and starched milk,
    the image upon them of lovers and horsement,
    squared with clowns in hueless amber.
    A streetcar raising into iron moan;
    stopping;
    belling and starting, stertorous;
    rousing and raising again
    its iron increasing moan
    and swimming its gold windows and straw seats
    on past and past and past,
    the bleak spark crackling and cursing above it
    like a small malignant spirit
    set to dog its tracks;
    the iron whine rises on rising speed;
    still risen, faints; halts;
    the faint stinging bell;
    rises again, still fainter;
    fainting, lifting lifts,
    faints foregone;
    forgotten.
    Now is the night one blue dew;
    my father has drained,
    he has coiled the hose.
    Low on the length of lawns,
    a frailing of fire who breathes.
    Parents on porches:
    rock and rock.
    From damp strings morning glories hang their ancien
    t faces.
    The dry and exalted noise of the locusts from all t
    he air
    at once enchants my eardrums.
    On the rough wet grass
    of the backyard
    my father and mother have spread quilts
    We all lie there, my mother, my father, my uncle, m
    y aunt,
    and I too am lying there.
    They are not talking much, and the talk is quiet,
    of nothing in particular,
    of nothing at all.
    The stars are wide and alive,
    they all seem like a smile
    of great sweetness,
    and they seem very near.
    All my people are larger bodies than mine,
    with voices gentle and meaningless
    like the voices of sleeping birds.
    One is an artist, he is living at home.
    One is a musician, she is living at home.
    One is my mother who is good to me.
    One is my father who is good to me.
    By some chance, here they are,
    all on this earth;
    and who shall ever tell the sorrow
    of being on this earth, lying, on quilts,
    on the grass,
    in a summer evening,
    among the sounds of the night.
    May God bless my people,
    my uncle, my aunt, my mother, my good father,
    oh, remember them kindly in their time of trouble;
    and in the hour of their taking away.
    After a little
    I am taken in
    and put to bed.
    Sleep, soft smiling,
    draws me unto her;
    and those receive me,
    who quietly treat me,
    as one familiar and well-beloved in that home:
    but will not, oh, will not,
    not now, not ever;
    but will not ever tell me who I am.
    ---James Agee
    First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.
    "Mahatma Gandhi"

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  29. #90
    Senior Member helenora's Avatar
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    Panis angelicus
    Man muss das Leben tanzen

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