Program Notes and Translations

Introduction

The title of my recital “My heart will wander to my home” was inspired by a lyric in the song “My Native Land” by Charles Ives. The line spoke to me, as I haven’t been living at home with my family for almost six years now, yet the relationships I have cultivated with friends and my instructors have made me love my “homes away from home.” Although my adventures away from home have been amazing, in my heart, nothing will replace the dry hills and sunny blue skies of California. That got me thinking. A huge part of who I am is where I come from and the people I have met along the way, and I wouldn’t be the same without both. Three of the sets I have chosen are each about a different culture, the Cinq Mélodies Populaires Grecques, the set of Ives songs, and Siete Canciones Populares Españolas. Although the subject matter of each set is different, they contain a strong sense of cultural identity, which attracted me to the music. I feel very strongly about my roots; I have a huge sense of pride that I am both American and Peruvian. Part of the human experience is belonging to a tribe, and I am lucky enough to belong to two tribes. I open the recital with the Cinq Mélodies Populaires Grecques to celebrate the pride we all have in our own cultural identities. I end the recital in the two languages I know best, English and Spanish. Having the nickname “Mignon” among my peers in the Vocal Arts Program and being so drawn to numerous settings of Mignon monologues, I thought it essential to sing a few of her songs on my recital. Through Mignon we can see what being cast away from what we know and love can do to us, and how we should be grateful for having homes and people who love us. Who and what we love is also a part of identity. The songs “Oh! Quand je dors” and “Traüme” as well as Messiaen’s Trois Mélodies are about a true and deep love. Without the people I love I am nothing, and these songs express some of the different kinds of love one can have in their life: romantic love, familial love, and the love of God.

I invite you to reflect upon the experiences and places in your life that shape your own identity.

Thank you to my family, friends, and instructors for this remarkable two-year journey. I would not be the artist I am today without your support

and presence in my life. Thank you. Thank you. Thank. You.

My heart wil l wander to my home Kelly Newberry, mezzo-soprano

Wei Zhou, piano

Cinq Mélodies Populaires Grecques Maurice Ravel (1875-1937) Le réveil de la mariée Là-bas, vers l’église Quel galant Chanson des cueilleuses de lentisques Tout gai! Oh! Quand je dors Franz Liszt (1811-1886) Traüme from Fünf Gedichte von Mathilde Wesendonck Richard Wagner (1813-1833) Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt Six Romances Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) Heiss mich nicht reden Lieder aus Wilhelm Meister Robert Schumann (1810-1856) So lasst mich scheinen from Gesänge aus Wilhelm Meister Franz Schubert (1797-1828) Kennst du das Land from Gedichte von J.W. v. Goethe Hugo Wolf (1860-1903)

Intermission

Trois Mélodies Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992) Pourquoi? Le sourire La fiancée perdue

My Native Land Charles Ives (1874-1954) The Children’s Hour Memories 1897 A- Very Pleasant/B- Rather Sad Songs my mother taught me

Siete Canciones Populares Españolas Manuel de Falla (1876-1946) El paño Moruno Seguidilla murciana Asturiana Jota Nana Canción Polo

Program Notes and Translations Ravel was the firstborn to a Swiss lawyer and a Basque woman and was born in the Basque village of Ciboure. He was raised in Paris, but felt a strong connection to his Basque heritage, and by extension, Spain. Ravel was a lover of many cultures, and is famous for his varied musical color palette. In 1907, shortly after the premiere of Ravel’s masterpiece Shéhérazade, Cinq Mélodies Populaires Grecques, Ravel’s re-harmonizations of Greek folk songs were published. In a similar vein to Shéhérazade, the Cinq Mélodies Populaires Grecques were inspired by Ravel’s interest in a culture different from his own. The first performance of this cycle was sung with the original Greek text, but the cycle is often performed using Michel Calvoceressi’s French translation. It is admirable that Ravel succeeded in setting these songs in his own style, without obscuring their association to Greek culture. Each piece is like a window view into different aspects of Greek peasant life, covering subjects such as marriage, death, courtship, longing, and of course, dancing. Translations of folk texts by Michel Dimitri Calvocoressi (1877 – 1944)

Le Réveil de la mariée Réveille-toi, réveille-toi, perdrix mignonne, Ouvre au matin tes ailes. Trois grains de beauté, mon cœur en est brûlé! Vois le ruban d'or que je t'apporte, Pour le nouer autour de tes cheveux. Si tu veux, ma belle, viens nous marier! Dans nos deux familles, tous sont alliés! Là-bas, vers l’église Là-bas, vers l'église, Vers l'église Ayio Sidéro, L'église, ô Vierge sainte, L'église Ayio Costanndino,

The awakening of the bride Get out of bed, out of bed, my adorable partridge, Open your wings to the morning. Three beauty marks My heart is on fire! See the gold ribbon I have brought you, To tie around your hair. If you’d like, my beauty, come let’s get married! In our two families, all are allies! Over there, near the church Over there, near the church Near the church Ayio Sidéro, The church, Oh Virgin Saint The church Ayio Costanndino

Se sont réunis, Rassemblés en nombre infini, Du monde, ô Vierge sainte, Du monde tous les plus braves! Quel galant Quel galant m'est comparable, D'entre ceux qu'on voit passer? Dis, dame Vassiliki? Vois, pendus à ma ceinture, pistolets et sabre aigu... Et c'est toi que j'aime! Chanson des cueil leuses de lentisques Ô joie de mon âme, Joie de mon coeur, Trésor qui m'est si cher ; Joie de l'âme et du cœur, Toi que j'aime ardemment, Tu es plus beau qu'un ange. Ô lorsque tu parais, Ange si doux Devant nos yeux, Comme un bel ange blond, Sous le clair soleil Hélas ! tous nos pauvres cœurs soupirent ! Tout gai! Tout gai! gai, Ha, tout gai! Belle jambe, tireli, qui danse; Belle jambe, la vaisselle danse, Tra la la la la...

They are reunited Assembled in infinite numbers In the world, o Virgin Saint, All the bravest of the world! What Gallant What gallant is comparable to me, Of those that one sees passing by? Tell me, Mistress Vassiliki? Look, hanging on my belt, Pistols and a sharp sword… And it is you whom I love! Song of the lentisk gatherers Oh joy of my soul, Joy of my heart, Treasure who is dear to me: Joy of my soul and heart, You whom I love ardently, You are more beautiful than an angel Oh when you appear, Sweet angel, In front of our eyes, Like a beautiful blond angel, Under the bright sun Alas! All of our poor hearts sigh! All joyful! All gay, gay, ha! All gay! Lovely leg, tireli, that dances. Lovely leg, the dishes dance. Tra-la-la

In his own lifetime, Franz Liszt was not famous for his songs. He was following in the footsteps of Franz Schubert and Carl Zelter, composers who had defined the genre of Lieder. Liszt’s critics often called his song settings “too complicated” or “not simple enough” which seems to have compelled Liszt to revise his songs numerous times. As a virtuoso pianist, Liszt’s piano parts for his songs are extravagant and extremely difficult to play. Although Liszt composed over eighty songs, only a small selection of them, including “Oh quand je dors” are in the recital canon. The text is by his friend, French poet Victor Hugo, a man who greatly inspired Liszt. The glorious vocal line and sensual text float over an extremely sensitive harmonic landscape provided in the piano part. The song portrays an extreme longing for the touch of the narrator’s beloved, an admiration and love best mirrored by Petrarch’s love for Laura.

Oh! quand je dors Victor Marie Hugo (1802 - 1885) Oh! quand je dors, viens auprès de ma couche, comme à Pétrarque apparaissait Laura, Et qu'en passant ton haleine me touche... Soudain ma bouche S'entrouvrira! Sur mon front morne où peut-être s'achève Un songe noir qui trop longtemps dura, Que ton regard comme un astre se lève... Soudain mon rêve Rayonnera! Puis sur ma lèvre où voltige une flamme, Éclair d'amour que Dieu même épura, Pose un baiser, et d'ange deviens femme... Soudain mon âme S'éveillera!

Oh! When I sleep Oh! When I sleep, come near by bed, Like to Petrarch appeared Laura And that in passing your breath touches me Suddenly my lips Will part! On my gloomy forehead where maybe ends A black dream that too long lasted That your gaze like a star rises Suddenly my dream Will shine forth! And then on my lip where flutters a flame, sparkling with love that God himself purified, place a kiss, and from angel become a woman Suddenly my soul will wake!

Franz Liszt’s daughter Cosima became Richard Wagner’s second wife. Before meeting Cosima and whilst still in his first marriage with Minna, Wagner fell in love with Mathilde Wesendonck. The wife of one of his patrons, Mathilde wrote poetry, and for her birthday Wagner set five of her poems to create the famous Wesendonck Lieder. In fact, the love between them also inspired Wagner’s masterpiece Tristan and Isolde, and a few of these lieder were studies for his operas. These songs paid homage to their forbidden love. The text of last song in the set, “Traüme” is about love’s ability to transcend our souls- even if only for a short moment.

Traüme Mathilde Wesendonck (1828 - 1902) Sag, welch wunderbare Träume Halten meinen Sinn umfangen, Daß sie nicht wie leere Schäume Sind in ödes Nichts vergangen? Träume, die in jeder Stunde, Jedem Tage schöner blühn, Und mit ihrer Himmelskunde Selig durchs Gemüte ziehn! Träume, die wie hehre Strahlen In die Seele sich versenken, Dort ein ewig Bild zu malen: Allvergessen, Eingedenken! Träume, wie wenn Frühlingssonne Aus dem Schnee die Blüten küßt, Daß zu nie geahnter Wonne Sie der neue Tag begrüßt, Daß sie wachsen, daß sie blühen, Träumend spenden ihren Duft, Sanft an deiner Brust verglühen, Und dann sinken in die Gruft.

Dreams Say, which wondrous dreams Hold my mind embraced, That they have not, like empty sea-foam into desolate nothingness vanished? Dreams, they, in every hour, Every day, bloom more beautifully, And with their heavenly gifts, Joyfully through the soul move! Dreams, like sublime rays of sunlight Shine through the soul and radiate, There an eternal portrait is painted Forgetting all, remembering only one! Dreams, like Spring’s light kisses That awaken blooms from the snow, With unsuspected bliss, They greet the new day, So that they grow, so that they bloom, Dreamily bestowing their fragrance Glowing and gently fading on your breast And then sink into the grave.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, one of the prominent leaders of the German Romantic movement, achieved celebrity status when he published the best seller “The Sorrows of Young Werther”. Goethe inspired people to look both within themselves and outwards to nature to seek self-illuminating wisdom and knowledge. The next songs are settings of the texts belonging to the character Mignon from Goethe’s popular novel Wilhelm Meister’s Lehrjahre. Mignon’s words and story have captured the imaginations of several composers; there are dozens of settings of her monologues. Mignon’s story is tragic: she was born in Tuscany, and soon after her mothers untimely death was kidnapped and enslaved by gypsies. Wilhelm, the protagonist of the novel, rescues Mignon from slavery, and becomes her guardian, but unbeknownst to Wilhelm, Mignon falls madly in love with him. Unfortunately for Mignon, the only feelings that Wilhelm has for her are fatherly. Subsequently, Mignon suffers from several mental and physical ailments, and dies quite young. The biggest tragedy in Mignon’s life is that she never returns to her homeland and never discovers her identity. Each Mignon song chosen for this recital reveals the composers’ unique interpretations of this tragic heroine’s life and character. While the circumstances of Mignon’s suffering are unique to her situation, one can relate to her need for a home to call her own, her suffering, her unrequited love, and of course her quest for self affirmation. All texts by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)

Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt Weiß, was ich leide! Allein und abgetrennt Von aller Freude, Seh ich ans Firmament Nach jener Seite. Ach! der mich liebt und kennt, Ist in der Weite. Es schwindelt mir, es brennt Mein Eingeweide. Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt Weiß, was ich leide!

Only one who knows longing Only one who knows longing Knows what I suffer Alone and separated From all joy I look into the heavens Toward that direction. Ah! The only one who loves me Has disappeared. It spins me, it burns My insides Only someone that knows longing Knows, what I suffer

Heiß mich nicht reden Heiß mich nicht reden, heiß mich schweigen, Denn mein Geheimnis ist mir Pflicht, Ich möchte dir mein ganzes Innre zeigen, Allein das Schicksal will es nicht. Zur rechten Zeit vertreibt der Sonne Lauf Die finstre Nacht, und sie muß sich erhellen, Der harte Fels schließt seinen Busen auf, Mißgönnt der Erde nicht die tiefverborgnen Quellen. Ein jeder sucht im Arm des Freundes Ruh, Dort kann die Brust in Klagen sich ergießen, Allein ein Schwur drückt mir die Lippen zu, Und nur ein Gott vermag sie aufzuschließen. So laßt mich scheinen So laßt mich scheinen, bis ich werde, Zieht mir das weiße Kleid nicht aus! Ich eile von der schönen Erde Hinab in jenes dunklen Haus. Dort ruh' ich eine kleine Stille, Dann öffnet sich der frische Blick; Ich laße dann die reine Hülle, Den Gürtel und den Kranz zurück.

Don't ask me to speak Don't ask me to speak - ask me to be silent, for my secret is my solemn oath. I want to bare my soul to you, but Fate does not allow it. At the right time, the sun's course will dispell the dark night, and it must be illuminated. The hard rock will open its bosom; and unbegrudgingly, the earth will release deep hidden springs. Others may seek peace in the arms of a friend; there one can pour out one's heart in lament. But for me alone, a vow locks my lips, And only a god has the power to open them. Let me appear Let me appear as what I will become Do not take the white dress from me! I rush from the beautiful earth Down into the solid house There I will rest for a short moment There my gaze will be fresh and new Then I will leave my pure garment, The belt, and the wreath behind

Und jene himmlischen Gestalten Sie fragen nicht nach Mann und Weib, Und keine Kleider, keine Falten Umgeben den verklärten Leib. Zwar lebt' ich ohne Sorg' und Mühe, Doch fühlt' ich tiefen Schmerz genug. Vor Kummer altert' ich zu frühe; Macht mich auf ewig wieder jung! Kennst du das land? Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühn, Im dunkeln Laub die Goldorangen glühn, Ein sanfter Wind vom blauen Himmel weht, Die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht, Kennst du es wohl? Dahin! Dahin! Möcht ich mit dir, o mein Geliebter, ziehn. Kennst du das Haus? Auf Säulen ruht sein Dach. Es glänzt der Saal, es schimmert das Gemach, Und Marmorbilder stehn und sehn mich an: Was hat man dir, du armes Kind, getan? Kennst du es wohl? Dahin! dahin Möcht ich mit dir, o mein Beschützer, ziehn.

And those heavenly beings They will not ask if I am a man or woman And no clothes, no folds Surround the transfigured body It’s true I have lived without sorrow and pain But I have felt deep pain Hardship has aged me too soon Make me forever young! Know you the land? Know you the land, where the lemon trees blossom In the dark leaves the gold oranges glow A gentle wind blows from the blue heavens The myrtles quiet, and high the laurel stand, Do you know it well? There! There! I want to go with you, my dearest! Know you the house? Where on pillars rest its roof? The hall gleams, there shimmers the chamber, And marble status stand and look at me: What have they done to you, you poor child? Do you know it well? There! There! I want to go with you, my protector!

Kennst du den Berg und seinen Wolkensteg? Das Maultier sucht im Nebel seinen Weg; In Höhlen wohnt der Drachen alte Brut; Es stürzt der Fels und über ihn die Flut! Kennst du ihn wohl? Dahin! dahin Geht unser Weg! O Vater, laß uns ziehn!

Do you know the mountain and its cloudy-path? The donkey looks in haze for its way. In caves live the Dragon’s brood The cliff falls off and it is flooded Do you know it well? There! there! There goes our path! Oh father, let us go!

The precocious Olivier Messiaen entered the Paris Conservatoire at age 15 in 1923. After serving in the French army for a year during WWII and surviving imprisonment in a Nazi POW camp, Messiaen returned to Paris in 1941 where he would begin his almost lifelong tenure as a professor at the Conservatoire. Among Messiaen’s many students at the Conservatoire, his two most famous were Karlheinz Stockhausen and Pierre Boulez. Messiaen’s individual compositional style was so unique, that his friend Andre Jolivet and several others inspired him to write Technique de mon language musical, a handbook and study of his distinct musical language. Messiaen’s Trois Mélodies was published in 1930 and dedicated to his mother, poet Cécile Sauvage, who died in 1927. Messiaen was a devout catholic who focused intensely on New Testament stories such as the Nativity, the Transfiguration, the Resurrection and the Ascension; religious subjects that inspired a large portion of his compositions. His fervent faith is apparent in Trois Mélodies. The first song, “Pourquoi”, poses the question “why are we here?” “Le Sourire” is a short song set to his mother’s poetry about a tender and warm love. In “La Fiancée perdue” the narrator seems to have found the answer for the question posed in “Pourquoi?: Jesus. “La Fiancée perdue” is a prayer asking Jesus to protect “la douce fiancée”, perhaps his mother in death, perhaps his bride to be, violinist Claire Delbos, who he married in 1932.

Pourquoi? Olivier Messiaen (1908 - 1992) Pourquoi les oiseaux de l'air, Pourquoi les reflets de l'eau, Pourquoi les nuages du ciel, Pourquoi? Pourquoi les feuilles de l'Automne,

Why? Why the birds of the air, Why the reflections of water, Why the clouds in the sky, Why? Why the leaves of autumn,

Pourquoi les roses de l'Été, Pourquoi les chansons du Printemps, Pourquoi? Pourquoi n'ont-ils pour moi de charmes, Pourquoi? Pourquoi, Ah! Pourquoi? Le Sourire Cécile Sauvage (1883 - 1927) Certain mot murmuré Par vous est un baiser Intime et prolongé Comme un baiser sur l'âme. Ma bouche veut sourire Et mon sourire tremble. La fiancée Perdue Oliver Messiaen C’est la douce fiancée, c’est l’ange de la bonté, c’est un après-midi ensoleillé, c’est le vent sur les fleurs. C’est un sourire pur comme un cœur d’enfant, c’est un grand lys blanc comme une aile, très haut dans une coupe d’or! Ô Jésus, bénissez-la! Elle! Donnez-lui votre Grâce puissante! Qu’elle ignore la souffrance, les larmes! Donnez-lui le repos, Jésus!

Why the roses of summer, Why the songs of spring, Why? Why don’t they have any charm over me? Why? Why, ah, why? The smile A certain word murmured By you is like a kiss Intimate and prolonged Like a kiss on the soul My lips want to smile And my smile trembles The lost fiancée She is the gentle fiancée, she is the angel of goodness she is a sunny afternoon, she is the wind on the flowers. She is a smile as pure as a child’s heart, she is a tall lily, white like a wing, high up in a golden vase! O Jesus, bless her! Her! Bestow on her your powerful Grace! May she never know pain and tears! Bestow peace of mind on her, O Jesus!

After training to become a professional organist, Charles Ives settled into a long career as a very successful insurance executive and would compose in his free time. Ives’ compositional styles ranged from tonal romanticism to atonal experimentation, and he often mixed these styles within pieces, creating a unique and characteristic sound palette. Ives is famous for quoting folk songs, hymns, and other music for thematic diversity, to evoke a sense of nostalgia, and sometimes even to poke fun at a style. His use of American hymns and tunes helps create a quintessentially “American” sound. The poetry of “My native land” is based on a loose translation of a Heine poem. “The Children’s Hour” uses the first three stanzas of a Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem, and evokes the sweet image of a parent playing with his children. Memories (A) Very Pleasant; (B) Rather Sad (1897) is a song with two parts; the first describes the excitement of a night at the opera, while the second expresses nostalgia and longing for an elderly relative. “Songs my mother taught me” is based on the Dvorak song of the same title from his Gypsy Songs.

My native land Heinrich Heine (1797 - 1856) Translated by Charles Ives

My native land now meets my eye,

The old oaks raise their boughs on high, Violets greeting seem,

Ah! 'tis a dream.

And when in distant lands I roam, My heart will wander to my home;

While these visions and fancies teem, Still let me dream.

The Children’s Hour

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 –1882)

Between the dark and the daylight, When the light is beginning to lower,

Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight, Descending from the broad hall stair,

Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, And Edith with golden hair.

Between the dark and the daylight,

When the light is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations,

That is known as the Children's Hour.

Memories 1897 A- Very Pleasant/B- Rather Sad Charles Ives

A. Very Pleasant

We're sitting in the opera house;

We're waiting for the curtain to arise With wonders for our eyes; We're feeling pretty gay,

And well we may, "O, Jimmy, look!" I say, "The band is tuning up

And soon will start to play." We whistle and we hum, Beat time with the drum.

We're sitting in the opera house;

We're waiting for the curtain to arise With wonders for our eyes,

A feeling of expectancy, A certain kind of ecstasy,

Expectancy and ecstasy... Sh's's's.

B. Rather Sad

From the street a strain on my ear doth fall, A tune as threadbare as that "old red shawl,"

It is tattered, it is torn, It shows signs of being worn,

It's the tune my Uncle hummed from early morn, 'Twas a common little thing and kind 'a sweet,

But 'twas sad and seemed to slow up both his feet; I can see him shuffling down To the barn or to the town,

A humming.

Songs my mother taught me Based on Čeština by Adolf Heyduk (1835 - 1923) Translation by Natalie Macfarren (1826 - 1916)

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; Often tears are flowing from my memory's treasure.

Manuel de Falla wrote the Siete Canciones Populares Españolas at the request of soprano Luisa Vela, who sang the role of Salud in La Vida Breve. Vela wanted to showcase songs in the Spanish style at a series of upcoming recitals. These seven popular indigenous melodies come from several regions of Spain, and de Falla crafted his own harmonies around these melodies. The songs were premiered in Madrid in 1915 with De Falla playing piano and Vela singing. There are several reasons that these songs are the most performed of all Spanish-language song: harmonic simplicity and rhythmic intensity create a unique balance, they contain extreme musical drama that spans a range of emotions, and of course, they provide a sophisticated yet accurate depiction of the Spanish sound. Numerous transcriptions, including orchestral arrangements by Berio and Ernesto Halffter, attest to their popularity. Each song comes from a different part of Spain and is based on a particular dance style. The first and second songs come from Murcia in southeastern Spain, the former derived from Moorish music, the second in a quick triple time flamenco rhythm. The Asturiana is a lament from Asturias, the piano line evoking the sound of a guitar. The Jota is a dance form Aragon, and is one of the most popular Spanish dance forms. “Canción” exemplifies the indigenous music of Spain, with its irregular rhythmic stresses. “Nana” and “Polo” come from Andalusia; Nana is like an improvised lullaby, and Polo evokes the passionate style of flamenco.

El Paño Moruno Gregorio Martínez Sierra (1881-1947) Al paño fino, en la tienda, una mancha le cayó; Por menos precio se vende, Porque perdió su valor. ¡Ay! Seguidil la Murciana- Folk Text Cualquiera que el tejado Tenga de vidrio, No debe tirar piedras Al del vecino. Arrieros semos; ¡Puede que en el camino Nos encontremos!

The Moorish Cloth A fine handkerchief from the store Was stained For a cheaper price it is sold Because it lost its value Tsk! Seguidil la Murciana Whoever has a roof Made of glass Should not throw stones At their neighbor We are muleteers It could be that on the road We’ll find each other

Por tu mucha inconstancia Yo te comparo Con peseta que corre De mano en mano; Que al fin se borra, Y creyéndola falsa ¡Nadie la toma! Asturiana- Folk Text Por ver si me consolaba, Arrime a un pino verde, Por ver si me consolaba. Por verme llorar, lloraba. Y el pino como era verde, Por verme llorar, lloraba. Jota- Folk Text Dicen que no nos queremos Porque no nos ven hablar; A tu corazón y al mío Se lo pueden preguntar. Ya me despido de tí, De tu casa y tu ventana, Y aunque no quiera tu madre, Adiós, niña, hasta mañana.Aunque no quiera tu madre...

Nana- Folk Text Duérmete, niño, duerme, Duerme, mi alma, Duérmete, lucerito De la mañana. Nanita, nana,

For your great amount of inconstancy I compare you To a coin that is passed From one hand to the other That becomes blurred So people think it is counterfeit Nobody wants it! Asturiana To see if it would console me I moved close to a green pine To see if it would console me. Seeing me weep, it wept too. The pine, being green, Seeing me weep, it wept too. Jota They say that we don’t love each other Because they don’t see us talking to one another To your heart and to mine They can ask if it is so Now I say goodbye to you From your house and your window Although your mother disapproves Goodbye, darling, until tomorrow Although your mother disapproves… Lullaby Sleep, child, sleep Sleep, my soul Sleep, little light of the morning Nanita, nana,

Nanita, nana. Duérmete, lucerito De la mañana. Canción- Folk Text Por traidores, tus ojos, voy a enterrarlos; No sabes lo que cuesta, “Del aire” Niña, el mirarlos. “Madre a la orilla Madre.” Dicen que no me quieres, Ya me has querido... Váyase lo ganado, “Del aire” Por lo perdido, “Madre a la orilla Madre.” Polo- Folk Text ¡Ay! Guardo una, ¡Ay! Guardo una, ¡Ay! ¡Guardo una pena en mi pecho, ¡Guardo una pena en mi pecho, ¡Ay! Que a nadie se la diré! Malhaya el amor, malhaya, Malhaya el amor, malhaya, ¡Ay! ¡Y quien me lo dió a entender! ¡Ay!

Nanita, nana. Sleep little light Of the morning Song For being traitors, your eyes, I will bury them. You don’t know how painful it is, “I’m breathless” To look at them. “Mother, I’m on the edge Mother.” They say that you don’t anymore, That you have already loved me… Leave it as won, “I’m breathless” For what is lost “Mother, I’m on the edge, Mother.” Polo Ay! I hold a, I hold a, I hold a deep pain in my chest, I hold a deep pain in my chest Ay! No one will discover it! Wretched is love, wretched, Wretched is love, wretched, Ay! And the one who made me understand that! Ay!